Sometimes the day can drag on when you’ve got plans for the evening, and I was having one of those days. It had been a particularly horrendous couple of days, and I was looking forward to Wednesday evening. I was to meet my sister, Althea, and longtime friends Pat and Sheila to attend a reading by a famous author at a local bookstore. Clients had been calling with annoying questions, coworkers had been behaving equally stupidly, and bosses had been making impossible demands. Wednesday had begun as badly as the two previous days; this job and these people were working my last nerve!

The day ended and, boy, was I ready for a relaxing and pleasant evening with friends. It had been a long time since the four of us had been able to get together, and tonight was going to be a treat.

We expected a crowd for the seven-thirty reading, so we decided to meet at Anderson’s Bookstore around five so we could get good parking places there. Then we would take one car to Sammy’s for drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

I was the first to arrive and found a parking spot across the street. I parked in two spaces so whoever drove to Sammy’s could park in front of or behind me when we returned. My sister, Althea, was next, and we waited for Sheila and Pat, who were notoriously late for everything. When they finally arrived, we exchanged hugs and greetings and headed for Sammy’s Soul ’n’ Spirits.

Sammy’s is a small but popular restaurant that doubles as the local watering hole on weekends. Professional and nonprofessional African Americans meet there after work for drinks, food, and conversation. During the day, old-timers gather to have a drink, play dominoes, and solve the problems of the world. It has been a restaurant for years but has been through several owners. The area was undergoing much-needed renovations. It had become a dangerous place at night, with gangs in the area; but the face lift was looking good, and people were returning to the neighborhood. Sammy’s was on the ground floor of an office building in the central business district. We chose Sammy’s because it was close to the bookstore and none of us had been there in ages. It was the only soul food restaurant around that could accommodate more than fifteen people at a time.

We arrived at about five thirty. As we entered, we noticed that some remodeling was being done. There were several groups of people scattered throughout the restaurant, having drinks and talking. The bar was straight ahead, but we could hear raucous laughter, so we opted for the restaurant. There was a table for four in the corner, and we quickly claimed it. After scanning the room for familiar faces and feeling fairly confident that we hadn’t missed anyone we knew, we began to chat among ourselves, looked at the menu, and decided on drinks. The atmosphere was light; people were talking, laughing, drinking, and having a good time; and we were anxious to join in.

A full twenty minutes later, the waitress, whose name tag identified her as Brenda, finally sauntered over. Althea was discussing her impending laser eye surgery when Brenda chimed in, saying, “I know what you mean, girl. My eyes are so bad I have to wear contacts and glasses!”

Pat’s eyes were rolling, and I was holding my breath. I knew how we could be if people insinuated themselves into our conversations.

Sheila muttered, “As long as you can see well enough to write our orders down right.” It was going to be that kind of evening.

Find out what happens in The Best Laid by Plans by Harriet A. Slye by getting your copy of Life Matters by The BookClub Seattle today!