Polly returns with our plates, sets down my turkey, the gravy with a grease slick on top. She slides Daddy's steak and potato from her arm. She bends at the knees to do it, leans closely over him.
''That was quick,'' he says.
''Well, I try to serve my customers well.'' Her voice is low and she says her words slowly. ''I might be able to get you some tickets to a night game. Might have some right here.'' Daddy pats his gray suit pocket, checking inside his jacket. He pierces her with his black eyes, scans her. He is aware of her every movement, turn of phrase.
''Oh, yeah. My girlfriend loves the Sox, too.'' Polly flashes a smile. Her lips glisten a soft pink. ''Oh, my next order's up.'' She winks at him and sashays away. His charm has won her over.
Daddy rests his hand on Mother's arm. His blunt tan fingers and sparse hairs are at home on her pale blue sweater. ''Might as well make things fun,'' he says.
Mother flashes her casual smile and for a moment, I am swallowed by her warmth.
''Ah. My family,'' Daddy says.