Three O'Clock

Nobody in the Lantern Café ever found out exactly what was said on the phone that night. Mr. Grant took the receiver from Sam, turned his back to the room and spoke so quietly that even Luis, who was trying very hard to hear, caught only a few words.

"Yes. Yes, it's me." A long silence. "I know. I know that." Another silence, even longer. "No, you don't have to say anything. I'm glad you called. I'm so glad you called."

The call lasted forty minutes. When Mr. Grant finally put the receiver down, he stayed standing at the counter with one hand on it, as if he was afraid it might disappear. Then he turned around. His eyes were wet, but he was standing straighter than Maya had ever seen him.

"That was my son," he announced to the whole café, although everybody already knew. "He received my letter yesterday. He says he has read it eleven times." He paused. "He says his daughter is a nurse. Can you imagine? A nurse, like her grandmother."

Nurse Priya, who was on her break, put down her green tea and started to cry. Luis blew his nose loudly and pretended it was because of the cold. Sam went into the kitchen and came back with a plate of blueberry muffins, which he placed in the middle of the counter without a word. It was the first time in twenty years that he had given anything away for free.

"Is he coming to Toronto?" Maya asked.

Mr. Grant sat down heavily. "He wants to. But it's the end of the school year. He has concerts with his students, and he can't leave until the summer." He tried to smile. "That's all right. I have waited thirty years. I can wait until July."