Isn't It Time by Susan J. Graham Page A

greeting.
    “Our mothers are having dinner together? Are you sure?”
    “Well, yeah.  I’m looking right at them.  Did your mom say
anything to you about them getting together?”  He strolled across the small
foyer and stepped outside.
    “No – and I saw her today, too.  That’s weird. I wonder
what’s going on.”
    “That’s what I’d like to know. They’re having a drink and,
get this, high-fiving each other!  And when I called my mom, she sent me to
voicemail!” he said, disgruntled. He glanced around the parking lot for any
sign of Melinda.  Nope. Still not there.
    “Well, I can’t imagine what they’re doing.  Unless…” she
hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Do you think this has anything to do
with your mom’s cancer?”
    Jack considered that possibility. His mother had had a
cancer scare several years back.  It turned out to be a minor issue and was
taken care of through outpatient surgery. It had frightened Jack’s dad badly,
though; it was the reason he had retired early. He had realized he didn’t want
to waste another minute of what he now saw as their limited time together.
    “I don’t think so,” he replied. “I haven’t heard anything
about there being another problem. And why would she be discussing it with your
mom even if there was?”
    “She is a nurse, Jack,” Angie reminded him.
    “A pediatric nurse, not an oncology nurse.”
    “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know anything about
cancer.  Maybe your mom’s looking for a new doctor or something and is trying
to get some referrals.”
    “Maybe,” Jack said, glancing up and seeing what he thought
was Melinda pulling into the parking lot.  “I think I’ll ask her, in a
roundabout way, what she did tonight and see if she lies to me.”
    “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Jack! Why don’t you just walk up to
them and say hello?”
    “Because my mother made it clear she doesn’t want to talk to
me right now.” He watched through narrowed eyes as Melinda got out of her car. 
    She was absurdly overdressed in some short white,
lacy-looking dress with a wide red leather belt cinched tightly around her
narrow waist.  He added strike two to his tally.  He had specifically told her
it was a casual restaurant and he would be wearing jeans.  The dress, and the
red high heels she was wearing with it, looked expensive.  Strike three. 
Spending beyond her means. He knew she was a receptionist at a car dealership
and he didn’t think receptionists made enough money to justify a head-to-toe
designer outfit. 
    “Look,” he said to Angie.  “My date is here.  I’ve got to
go.  See what you can find out from your mother.”
    “Okay, I’ll try.  Have fun.”
    “Not likely.  See ya, Ange.”
    “See ya, Jack,” she laughed.
    He disconnected the call, put the phone back in his pocket
and waited for Melinda to teeter the last few steps towards him.  Oh, for God’s
sake, he thought.  If you’re going to wear heels that high, you should at least
learn how to walk on them.
    Seeing her up close, he added strike four. Excessive makeup.
He hoped she would keep her lips to herself; he didn’t want any of that
goopy-looking stuff that was all over her mouth to end up anywhere on his body.
    “Jack,” she purred, giving him an obvious top to bottom
appraisal. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person!” 
    She moved toward him like she was going in for a hug. 
Putting on a smile he didn’t feel, Jack quickly extended his right hand.  He
was an affectionate kind of guy but he did not like hugging strangers.  “Hi
Melinda. Nice to meet you, too,” he lied.
    She looked put out by his refusal to hug her, but took his
hand and gave it a limp shake. Hiding his distaste, and wondering again why he
was even moving forward with this farce, Jack quickly ushered her in to the
restaurant.  He spoke briefly to the hostess, requesting a table that would put
him on the opposite side of the restaurant - as far