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Help me set the table.”That was shoving in the knife and giving it a little twist. Not only did I not get to do anything this afternoon, but tonight was off limits too, and to serve it all up, I was reminded of the morning’s teasing by handling knives and forks, glasses and plates. Just swell!Dinner was over quickly just as Mom wanted. She suggested I clean up by myself. Helen was picking her up, she explained, and she had just enough time to get ready. When Mom came downstairs, she had changed into a mostly black and dark brown blouse with swirls of orange and darts of yellow that highlighted her bosom which seemed much more evident and available ensconced within the silkier material. The new blouse dipped between her breasts far enough to provide a glimpse of the half-bra containing her not-so-motherly-looking assets. Mom pulled a lipstick from her purse and applied it in exaggerated fashion to her pouting lips in the entranceway mirror. When she was done, she grabbed a coat from. Julian's studio was in Elizabeth, so we had a bit of a drive coming. Siobhan was going to meet us there, but I needed to pick up Francine. As luck would have it, we went to the last place Christine had worked—the 7th Street Diner. It was an old favorite of Francine's. As we approached the door, Christine tugged on my sleeve, for attention, then held a finger to her lips. She tapped her wrist and help up three fingers. Christine wanted me to wait three minutes.I was mystified, but complied. It gave me a chance to check my messages. As it happened, Harold Johnstead had sent me a set of images for the finished invitations. I replied. Use your judgment Harold. Time is short. I am sure you will not disappoint me.CWhen I entered the diner, I saw Francine at her usual table, with the wreckage of another huge meal laid in front of her. I sat down across from her. Just then Christine came up, wearing a waitress uniform. She quietly warmed Francine's coffee. It took considerable control to keep.
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