Page 63 of Stand

Inside, it looked like any other bar-restaurant—a long, polished bar along one side with mirrors behind that messed with Sam’s sense of perspective, small tables packed into every available square foot of floor space, red glass candleholders offering flickering, uncertain light, and waiters and waitresses wearing black and white squeezing between the chairs. Country music was playing, and the atmosphere was loud and boisterous.

The tables were filled with other families. Ty put Sam’s name on the list and went over to the bar to get them a drink while they waited. No sooner had they been led to a table in the middle of the room when a voice said, “Hey! There you are!” as if she’d been watching for them for weeks.

“Hi, Tammy,” Sam said. “You’re here too?”

“Duh!” Tammy exclaimed happily, hitching Sawyer a little higher on her hip. For the evening, she was wearing one of those banana clips in her hair that had been popular when Sam was very little and a white denim jacket with an American flag on the back. “Glad you found the place all right! We’re sitting just over there. Your rooms okay?”

The change in topic threw Sam for a second. “Oh, yes, thanks, they’re very nice.”

Tammy grinned with pride. “Four stars on TripAdvisor—not many motels can say that! Well, enjoy your meal! Don’t forget! Crab cakes!”

After she left, there was a short, rather stunned silence. Finally, Matt said, “Where the hell did they find fresh crab in the middle of the middlest state in the country?”

“Don’t sayhell,” Ty said. “And I see your point.”

They ordered burgers.

“I hate country music,” Alyssa said.

“Early country music was good,” Sam said. “Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline and people like that.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

They slumped into silence again.

Thankfully, the burgers were so good, they had to look at each other just to make appreciative noises and roll their eyes in pleasure.

“Is this Patsy Cline?” Alyssa asked. She’d been looking up the names while Sam thought she was sulking into her phone. She held the phone out and Sam took it, holding it close to one ear and trying to shut out the restaurant’s noise with her hand over the other.

“Yes, that’s her.”

“Which one should I listen to next?”

Sam looked at the list. “If you want something fun, try ‘I’m Back in Baby’s Arms.’ If you want a good cry, play ‘Crazy.’”

“’Kay.” Alyssa took her phone back and somehow managed to shut herself away from the bustle around her. But her body language was different, and Sam warmed to her again, aware of the goofy smile on her own face at the brief connection.

“Dessert?” Ty said.

“Sure.”

She ordered key lime pie, the kids got hot fudge sundaes, and Ty had the peach pie. Matt got up to use the bathroom while they waited.

“I’m crazy for crying, and I’m crazy for lying, and I’m crazy for loving you,” Alyssa hummed to herself. Apparently, she was still listening to Patsy Cline. Fascinating how long ago that music must seem to kids today.

“Patsy Cline to her must be like… I dunno, Bing Crosby to us?” Ty said.

“That’s just what I was thinking!” she said, too surprised to remember to be distant. “Ancient history.”

“Duran Duran is ancient history to these kids. Bing Crosby is prehistoric.”

She laughed. “How do you know about Bing Crosby, anyway?”

“White Christmas,” he said simply.

“You old softy,” she teased. “Did you ever watch—?”

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