Her mother nodded, and then raced toward a customer who was lifting his coffee cup high into the air. We were sitting at the counter of the Good As Gold diner and Lavi had been rolling the corner of her paper placemat back and forth until finally it ripped. Her mother returned, grabbed a handful of straws, and stuffed them into the pocket of her apron. She picked up a rag. “What was so important?”

Lavi’s voice cracked when she spoke. “Daddy called.”

Her mother stopped wiping the coffee-stained counter. I hadn’t seen her up close since the ketchup incident and she looked different than what I remembered. Her hair was pulled back and her uniform was clean and pressed. She wore a nametag that said SARAH but the H at the end was faded, as though someone had tried to scratch it off. She held the rag in her hand for a minute, twisted it, and then smiled. I felt a sudden pulse, a type of electricity, shoot through my arm. Someone waved at her and she ran off, coffee pot in hand. I watched as her hair bounced behind her, like a horse’s tail.

“It looks pretty don’t you think? I put mayonnaise in it last night,” Lavi said.

I nodded, but all I could think about was the tingly feeling still running down my arm and to my fingertips so I turned to the dessert case to distract myself. The sugared apple pie glittered and the peaks on the lemon meringue reminded me of the star at the top of a Christmas tree. Lavi’s mom returned, and seconds later she eased a slice onto a plate and handed it to me. I dipped my fork into the tips of white, which jiggled delicately in defiance.

“What do you think he wants?” Lavi asked, reaching out and grabbing her mother’s wrist.

She stopped moving and, just as she was about to speak, I felt a breeze sweep up the slope of my neck. Then he slid onto the stool and turned toward me.

“Hello ladies. Looks like someone forgot to invite me to the party.” Daryl grabbed the fork out of my hand and helped himself to my pie.

“Hey!” I shouted and snatched it back.

“Least you could do for forgetting to send out my invite.” He took my napkin and used it to wipe the corners of his mouth.

“Daryl!” Sara had her hands on her hips, but she was grinning. Daryl smiled back. A coffee cup flew into the air and she was off again.

“So, Lavi, what brings you here?” He hooked his feet into the base of my stool and swiveled himself around.

“Not sure that’s any of your business,” she replied, now rolling the empty sleeve of her straw into a tight, hard coil.