Nick of Time

Tracy gave the rack a quick swivel round, scanning the cards.  It was annoying.  If her partner hadn’t phoned wondering whether she’d be in, she would have totally forgotten about Mother’s Day.  Or not forgotten, exactly:  there were too many commercials on TV for her to miss the fact that the celebration was up-coming.  But the first of the month had come so early this May that she’d not put two and two together and realized that it was this weekend.

She’d honestly thought it was next week.  She really had.

Red roses popped out at her, with the message “Dear Mom”.  Quickly she grabbed it up, took a peek to make sure it wasn’t a birthday card, and headed for the cash register.  And then to the florist’s, for something a bit less obvious than the less-than-pristine however-old mixed bunches that the corner store had by the door.

She’d made several hasty calls round restaurants before finding one that was still taking reservations.  It wasn’t till the eight-to-ten sitting, which meant that she’d had to make a last minute phone call to the station and take a precious day of personal time.  Fortunately, Captain Reese was married with kids and, apart from a moment of sarcasm, did reasonably understand.  And, schedule or no schedule, it was Sunday.  Also, they’d just wrapped their most urgent case.

She just hoped her mother didn’t insist it was a “celebration” and order wine with the meal.