Our Family
“Angela? Party of Four.” We waited patiently on the bench in the Chicago airport for our table at the crowded eatery during our layover to a short weekend vacation. We watched and waited for the other Angela to get her table. “Angela? Party of Four!” The server tried again, annoyance seeping into her voice. My eldest daughter said, “Mom I think she means us.” I stood up and tentatively approached the counter, my two daughters behind me. “I am Angela, but there are only three of us.” “Follow me,” the server replied, setting down the extra menu and extra napkin
