The Moment of Truth
The evening rolled on with dessert menus and laughter.
Then came the moment every waiter dreads — the check.
A sleek black folder landed gently on the table.
My in-laws glanced at it, smiled, and then — as if on cue — began their performance.
My father-in-law patted his pockets.
“Oh, dear… I think I left my wallet in my other jacket.”
My mother-in-law gasped.
“Oh, and I switched purses today! Silly me.”
Then came the grand finale — she excused herself to “make a quick phone call,” while my father-in-law said he’d “check the car.”
Minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty.
And just like that, they were gone.
The waiter approached, looking uneasy.
“Ma’am… the rest of your party?” he asked quietly.
My mom smiled. “They’ll be right back,” she said. “But in the meantime, could I see the dessert menu?”
