AS MYRTLE CAREFULLY carried the hot tea down the street, she heard another voice calling her name. But this time there was only one person in the world it could be. “Mama!” called the voice again, this time a little impatiently.
“Hi Red,” said Myrtle in a calm voice.
“Can I give you a ride?” he asked. He was leaning out of the window of his police cruiser. To be honest, although she’d always considered her son a handsome man, he had certainly looked better. The five o’clock shadow that he sometimes sported at the end of a day had entered into full-beard territory. His eyes were as red as his hair. And the smattering of wrinkles developing on his face were deep crevasses today. “And when I drop you off, maybe I can borrow your shower.”
“Most definitely,” said Myrtle, nose wrinkling a li
