“Hey, hot guy, 5:00,” Chloe whispered across the table. She was seated facing the buffet table behind me while I was facing the stage. “If that’s Glenn, I’m going to kill you.” “He looks like he might work here. Holy cow. He looks just like Jack. That’s got to be his son. Look at him.” “What? No! Stop being so obvious!” “Our table's out of butter.” “What?” She threw me a salty grin. “He clearly works here. I’m going to ask him for more butter. Be right back.”
