Decency Read Free Page B

time?”
    “Certainly. But I’ll often think of you.”
    “And I of you.”
    He struggled to his feet and Samantha walked him to his sun-faded 1968 Chrysler Imperial, the most extravagant purchase he ever made.
    “Thank you, Mr. Marston, for all you did for me.”
    “Samantha, you can’t know how much it means to hear that.”
    With the supreme caution of the elderly, he backed out, straightened, and with a wave puttered away.

     
    At 7:30, with the dinner crowd thinned out and the last of the dishes in the machine. Kathy packed some of her special green beans from the stock on hand and a green salad for the feast at home. She left Trudy Becker in charge, as she often did for the last few drinks ordered. The regulars wouldn’t dream of short-changing the best restaurant in easy distance. In fact, Kathy invariably found a few extra dollars in the drawer when she left someone else in charge.
    In less than fifteen minutes Samantha was in the kitchen of her childhood home, crushing a full quarter of a box of Saltine crackers for the crab cakes. Two eggs, a tablespoon of mayonnaise, teaspoons each of mustard and Worcestershire sauce, a half teaspoon of Old Bay seasoning, chopped fresh parsley with the crushed crackers, and a pound of the Jumbo Lump crab meat gently folded into the other ingredients. She formed six crab cakes and put them in the refrigerator to firm them for cooking. They set the table, warmed the green beans and dished out the salad. When Harlan came in, Samantha melted a quarter pound of butter, then slowly browned the crab cakes.
    With the first bite, a chorus of “Mmm-mm” erupted from her parents.
    “These are the best. The best I’ve ever had.”
    This line completed the ritual. Samantha felt completely at home, and so happy that she could do such a small thing for her parents’ enjoyment.
    Kathy finally asked if there are any men on the horizon.
    “Still looking for one to measure up to the one you married, Mom.”
    Harlan insisted she couldn’t be looking very hard. They did not press her. They trusted her judgment second only to their own. With short reminiscences, the long day caught up to the elder Pierces. Samantha’s plane ride was tiring as well. With the dishes washed, dried and put away, they were all glad to be in bed just after 9:30.

     
    The next day, Harlan was up and out by 5:00. Kathy left for the cafe at 7:00. Samantha made a pot of coffee at 7:30 and was in the cafe with her mother by 8:00.
    With the details left unattended by the “night crew” put right - ashtrays emptied and washed, customers still smoked here, stray bottles cleared, cups and glasses washed - the deposit made at the bank, and the dish machine emptied, readying for the lunch crowd started. Then Kathy had a chance to talk.
    “Samantha, you look like your old self. We’ve been worried. Your letters have sounded like your work was not as fulfilling lately.”
    “I am better.”
    “Just better?”
    “Well, there isn’t as much stress now. When Dad comes in I want to talk about it with you both.”
    Harlan usually got to the cafe about 10:30 for coffee and a chat before the lunch orders consumed Kathy’s attention. Today, with his daughter home, he was a half hour early.
    Kathy poured the coffee. Harlan hugged them both and assured his daughter once again that they were the best crab cakes ever. He and Samantha sat down on barstools, Kathy brought the coffee and joined them across the counter.
    “Dad, I’ve told Mom there is something I want to talk about.”
    “Well, I’m ready to hear it.”
    Harlan sipped his coffee with his eyes fixed on his daughter’s.
    “First of all, I feel better now than I have for a long time. I’ve written you so many times how things have changed so much. The turmoil and uncertainty over what we are supposed to be doing at NSA and how we are supposed to do it is still there. But I have a better handle on it now.
    “That may not seem to be true when I tell you what I