Driving along Route 86, he could almost smell and taste the Surf and Turf lunch at Cappie's Tavern, a tradition he shared with his daughter, Sally. Clinking her wine glass against his beer stein, in tandem they'd toast, "May we move on from our troubles and bury our differences".
Jack glanced at Cappie's as he drove by. Today's reservation was elsewhere.
"Sally, I would have preferred our usual place," Jack whispered tearfully at her graveside.