"Coffee?" she asked.
"Please."
"And for the young lady?"
"Chocolate milk," said Josie, and then, glancing at her grandfather, "please. If it's not too much."
"Chocolate milk is never too much," said Lena. "That's the law in Keith County."
She went away. Walt opened the menu and looked at the prices without seeing the food. Hot beef sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy, $3.25. Chicken-fried steak, $3.95. Patty melt, $2.50. Grilled cheese, $1.75. Bowl of chili, $1.50. Cup of coffee, 50¢, bottomless. Pie, 95¢ a slice, à la mode 35¢ extra.
He had paid six dollars for gas at Grand Island. He had thirty-five dollars. If the car needed anything at all — and it did; he could hear it needing something in the way the engine had sounded coming down the ramp — the thirty-five dollars was already spent.
"What are you having, Grandpa?"
"Coffee."
"What are you having to *eat*?"
"I'll get something at the motel."
"Motels don't have food. They have ice machines."
"Then I'll have ice."
Josie did not laugh. She looked at him over the top of her menu with Marian's eyebrows going up in the middle.
"I'm going to have the grilled cheese," she said finally. "And I'm only going to eat half."
"Josephine."