“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mom. Her car won’t start. She’s downtown, and I can’t leave work. Dad isn’t answering his phone.”
I sat up on my couch.
“Karen’s stranded?”
“Yeah. She’s at that Italian restaurant on Madison. Can you get her? Please?”
There was something strange about the way he said Dad isn’t answering.
Daniel and I had been friends long enough for me to recognize the difference between his ordinary irritation and something he was trying not to discuss.
But I didn’t push.
“Send me the address.”
“Thanks, man. I owe you.”
“You owe me so much that the national debt is starting to look reasonable.”
He hung up before I could finish.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled beneath the restaurant’s striped awning.
Karen stood near the entrance holding a small black umbrella. She wore a dark blue dress, a camel-colored coat, and black heels that looked completely unsuitable for the weather.
