She burst into their bedroom.
She was defiant flouncing to her bed by the closet door. But of course it made a difference. They both went to Tadich’s for their first lunch with Daddy. It was where all the businessmen went for special lunches. Herb Caen wrote about it in his column. Well, he wrote about Clown Alley too but not in the same way. She pulled out her book from under the pillow and nestled into her own corner. She imagined where they would go and what she would wear
Bridget did and said as she had been trained from an early age but she couldn’t look up at the lady. Jane shifted her purse to her arm and lightly swiped her gloves through her other hand a couple of times.
Jane left without a word but the look she gave Daddy when she stopped at the door said a lot.
The maître d’ led them to a window table. The waiter came and took Daddy’s drink order, Jack Daniels on the rocks for him and a Shirley Temple for her. The bus boy brought water and sourdough bread with lots of butter. She wasn’t hungry or maybe she was. Her stomach hurt. Businessmen hustled to lunch outside the window. They sat in silence. The drinks came. She played with her straw, blotched the pristine white table cloth with pink syrup. Normally, Daddy would scold her for this and she looked up at him. He pushed the bread towards her.
The eldest sister looked up.