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"Could I get a little more sauce for my spaghetti?" I asked.
The waitress smiled and nodded. "Sure, hon," she said, then retreated to the kitchen.
Cheryl ignored the exchange and continued with her questioning. "So what did Uncle Billy say?"
"Will you hand me the parmesan, please?"
She handed me the glass shaker with a sigh. "Will you just tell me?"
I shook a generous portion of cheese on my spaghetti before answering. "What do you think he said?"
Her gaze narrowed.
I shrugged my shoulders. "He said it was none of my business."
Her frustration was apparent. "You specifically asked him if he was taking Clara to Eb and Becky's wedding?"
I dug a fork into the cheese laden noodles. "Yep."
"And he said it was none of your business?"
I paused before shoving the forkful of heaven into my mouth. "Yep."
She shook her head. "I just can't understand ..."
The waitress arrived with a small saucer of sauce. "Here ya go, hon."
In mid-chew, all I could do was look up at her and smile.
She smiled back. "Anything else I can get you?"
I shook my head no.
She looked at Cheryl.
"Oh, no thank you ... I think we're all set."
She nodded and walked off
toward another table.
I swallowed. "By the way, guess who I ran into leaving Alma Beeler's house the other day?"
Cheryl looked a me with anticipation. "Who?"
I leaned forward, conspiratorially. "Mike Purcell."
Cheryl leaned in, too. "Mike Purcell ... from across the street?"
"What was he doing at Alma Beeler's?"
"He said he was helping her with a computer problem."
"Why wouldn't she call Uncle Billy about something like that? He's really good with computers."
I nodded smugly. "Waddaya think?"
She leaned back. "Well, I'll be."
"Now, don't say anything to anyone."
She nodded unconvincingly. "Oh, of course not."
"I mean it ... ... not even Jenny ... I don't want this going viral."