“Did you take your guitar over to Dale’s house?” Sherry asked.
“Yes, but he wasn’t home.”
“You had better try to get over there today. You can’t play it until he replaces the bridge on it and we have to work tomorrow.”
“OK,OK, I’ll go.”
I drove over to Dale Wallace’s house but there was no one there. I went home and when I walked in Sherry said, “Well, did he fix it?”
“No. There was no one home.”
“What are you going to do? We need that guitar for tomorrow night.”
“I’ll call before I go over there,” I said. “That way, if there’s no one there I won’t waste a trip driving all the way across town.”
After eating lunch I picked up the phone and called Dale’s house.
“Hello.”
The speaker was a small child who was speaking so softly that he was whispering.
“Hi,” I said. “This is Dennis Wolfe. Is your grandpa there?”
“Yes.”
“Can you call him to the phone?”
“I can’t do it right now,” the little voice said. “He’s busy.”
“Is your grandma there”
“Yes.”
“Let me talk to her.”
“She’s busy, too.”
“How about your mom or your Tia Gina Marie? Or even your older brother.”
“They’re here but they are all busy, too,” he said, quietly.
“Oh, good grief,” I said. “What are they so busy doing?”
The little voice whispered, “They’re looking for me.”
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