Mrs. Nash’s Ashes

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“José Napoleoni’s Rio Grande Trattoria?” That’s what the sign says, so I’m not sure why it comes out of my mouth as a question. Maybe just because I’m struggling with the concept of Mexican-Italian fusion, especially housed in what is clearly a former Pizza Hut just off the highway.

“It’s either this or fast food,” Hollis says. Before I can tease him for being a snob, he adds, “I don’t mind fast food, if that’s what you want. My tastes are pretty much the opposite of bougie. But I figure we can wait out some of the traffic if we sit down to eat here.”

He has a point. Fast food would be, well, faster. But it’s not like rush hour is about to magically disappear, and I’ll dwell less on the ticking clock if we’re eating a decent meal than if I’m sitting helplessly in the passenger seat with nothing to do but wait and imagine the worst.