Sarah was late for our luncheon date.  Where could she be?  I started to get worried.  We meet for lunch every Friday at a local pasta place.  Half an hour went by, then she called me on my cell.  She said she was sorry to be so late, but she was busy filing bankruptcy at an attorney’s office about a mile north.  “Do you want to wait?  It’s entirely up to you,” she said.  “I’m just about finished and it’s only a 10-minute drive.”  “Well—it’s pouring,” I reminded her.  “But I’ll wait for you.”  About twelve or so minutes later Sarah rushed into the    restaurant, snapped her umbrella shut, and joined me at our usual table.  Our favorite waitress winked at us and went to order her chicken cacciatore.  I was sipping my second cup of coffee already, but I quickly asked her what had happened.  “Oh, Evie, it’s such a long story,” she said hastily, stopping to catch a few breaths.  Sarah went on to give me the bad news: a few days earlier, the entire accounting staff had gotten the shaft.  It was an out-and-out cutback.  Their division had been on the chopping block for many months now, but she had held on to her bookkeeping job, thinking that maybe the worst was over.  Actually, the worst was yet to come, she informed me; the entire corporation with all its subsidiaries was being sold to a Netherlands conglomerate.  There would be many more layoffs after the takeover, so it felt like a mixed blessing.  Plus, she added, regaining some of her breath, she had just enough left in savings for collateral, so she might be able to get a government loan to add to her disappointing severance check.  Sarah’s food arrived at that moment.  “I hope you don’t mind, Evie darling,” she said, looking just slightly guilty.  “I am starved!!!”