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Thank goodness the Caddie is large and roomy.

    * * *
    We stand on the long, long, long, long line snaked around the strip mall parking lot adjacent to our favorite deli, the Continental, and apparently everyone's else's, too. Ida taps her foot. Bella, as usual, peers into every store window as we pass. Evvie is using my back as a desk, scribbling her latest movie review for the next issue of her Lanai Gardens newsletter. Jack stands next to me, his shoulders slumped, his eyes glassy. The line is hardly moving.
      I gesture at the crowd. "Now you know. Short lines at four. Chaos after five."
      Sophie adds, "And the prices are lower."
      Bella pipes up, "And the kasha varnishkas sell out fast."
      "I am more than willing to go somewhere else and pay whatever extra it costs." Jack is sweating. He takes his jacket off.
      "No way," says Ida. "We refuse to be beholden to you. We are independent women and pay our own way."
      "At least Evvie is smiling," he says, grasping at straws.
      Evvie looks up from her notebook. "That's because I'm writing about George Clooney, that hottie."
      After yet another ten sweltering, humid minutes, we finally get inside.
      I see Jack glance around. He whispers to me, "Not many men here."
      "You need reinforcements?" I ask.
      "I might." He squeezes my hand. "I'd love to kiss your cheek but I don't want to embarrass you."
      I laugh. "Honey, in this place, embarrassment knows no bounds."
      We get our favorite waitress, Velma, formerly of Flatbush, Brooklyn. Thin as a blade of sawgrass. Greasy hairstyle circa 1950's, very puffy and large. Nickname: Motormouth. The girls like her because she always makes sure to give them big portions of dessert. She is thrilled to see us.
      As she shoves the menus at us, she says, "So where you guys been? I thought you all died."
      "Not yet," Bella comments mildly. The girls are used to Velma's hyperbole.
      "We took a vacation." Sophie bites off a chunk of sour pickle from a dish of coleslaw and assorted pickles already on our table.
      Velma, not much of a listener, runs along her own track. "Boy, you missed some excitement around here. Edna Glatz from Hawaiian Gardens choked on a bone and almost expired before our very eyes."
      "No!" Sophie and Bella chorus in horror, as Jack attempts to concentrate on the three-foothigh plastic menu.
      "If it wasn't for our manager, Mr. Kay, who knew the Heimlich maneuver, we would have a dead duck on our floor. Instead of on a plate." She chuckles at her joke.
      I can see other customers waggling their fingers to get Velma's attention, but Velma loves to talk and is on a roll. "And one day Mary Lou Feeney's great-grandchild upchucked on their table, all over the plat de jour and her new flowered sundress. Don't ask."
      "Could we order?" Jack asks morosely.
      Velma is pulled up short by this interruption of her news report. She pretends to do a double take, as if seeing him for the first time. She turns seductive. Her idea of sexy is batting her eyelashes.
      "I didn't notice you have a man with you. And who is this Mr. Gorgeous?"
      Jack blushes. I can tell that he's sorry now that he opened his mouth. Here we go.
      Ida can't resist. "Meet Gladdy's intended. Jack, meet Velma."
      Nor can Bella. "We're here to celebrate."
      "Gedouddahere!" Velma screeches with excitement. She flashes a huge mouthful of horsy teeth at me. "Congratulations! This calls for an announcement!" She picks up a glass and a spoon and turns to the rest of the room. I grab her by her apron strings and tug hard. She turns back.
      I glare. "No announcements. Please."
      Velma reluctantly replaces the glass and spoon. She sniffs loudly. "I guess I'll take your orders now."

    * * *
    Dinner manages to glide along without too many annoyances. Sophie sends her chicken back—"Too tough." Ida complains her brisket is stringy. Evvie doesn't take her eyes off me while I'm looking at Jack and Jack