I checked the envelope again, just to be certain I hadn’t missed anything. As a hospital billing clerk, I was accustomed to checking details twice, and I did the same thing at our family dinner.
Then I passed the card to Nate beneath the edge of the tablecloth.
He read it once, then looked at it again. Finally, he folded it neatly and placed it in his shirt pocket. His ears turned red, a familiar reaction whenever something caught him off guard.
Ron lifted his coffee cup toward us.
“That’s the truth,” he said. “Take it as a compliment. You’ve never given us a day’s worry. Not either one of you.”
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