"I'd come back sooner," he says, like he always does. "But there's never any damn beer in that place."

"Try the crisper next time," she tells him, twisting the telephone cord around her finger.

"The what?"

"The crisper. You know, that drawer in the fridge where all the vegetables are supposed to be kept?"

She can practically hear him thinking. "Uh huh."

"Well, open the one on the left. Five bottles of Ex."

"Won't the brats find it?" Meaning Scott.

"Nah. No one ever goes in there."

"You sure?"

"Positive," she says, smiling. "I bought some broccoli. It's deep undercover."