Diane was looking at me with the expression she used when she was calculating something.
"What?" I said.
"Nothing," she said.
"You have a face," I said.
"I always have a face," she replied. "It's my face."
"That specific face," I said. "What are you thinking?"
She looked at her wine glass and then at me.
"I'm thinking," she said carefully, "that Cole is probably home by now."
I looked at my wine.
"He said he would call me," I said.
"Did he," she said.
"Yes."
"And are you going to answer?"
"When he calls yes," I said. "Obviously."
Diane looked at Dad briefly.
Dad was looking at his food with the expression of a man who had decided this particular conversation was not his business.
Wise man.
"What if," Diane said, "instead of waiting for him to call you. We just. Dropped you
