“Finally, we meet. It’s so nice to have you here. Have a seat, lunch is almost ready.” My mom smiles at him.
“Mom, you need any help?” I ask as we take a seat at the kitchen island.
“No, I’ve got it all under control. Dad wanted lasagna, so there’s that and some salad.”
“It smells great. Thank you for having me,” Mike says with his southern charm.
“So, Mike, Jamie tells us you own a bar,” Dad pipes up.
“Yes, sir. Been in my family for three generations now. My sister, Olivia, and I run it. Well, I do most of it, but she’s slowly taking on more.”
“You have to work a lot of late hours, nights?”
“I do now because since I took over, the bar has been my life. It’s running smoothly and I have great staff so I’m able to be away when needed. I’ve just never felt the need to be away before now.”
“Like this weekend,” Mom says, setting a bowl of crescent rolls in the center of the table.
“Yeah, I know Olivia and my staff can handle it. Coming to see Jamie was more important.” He gives my knee a gentle squeeze under the island.
Mom beams at him and Dad sits back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “How do you suppose this is going to work?” he asks, pointing between the two of us.
My eyes widen. “Dad! That’s none of your business.”
“Come on now, it’s time to eat,” Mom says, waving at the island.
I stand and Mike follows me. “This looks great, Mrs. Turner. Thank you.”
“None of that. It’s Cora, dear, and you’re welcome. James, come on,” she says, her voice sterner with Dad than with Mike.
I’ve never seen my dad act this way before. I don’t know what his deal is today. Lunch is great as always, as Mom is a great cook. Conversation is lighter with her guiding it. Dad watches me and Mike like he can’t figure us out.
“Oh, I meant to ask you. Do you all have plans the rest of the day?” Mom asks.
I look over at Mike. “Whatever you want, babe. I’m with you,” he says, not caring that my parents can hear him.
“No, not really. Mike leaves tomorrow morning, so we kind of left today open.”
“Well, I got these passes from a raffle at work for the zoo. I thought we could all go,” Mom says hopefully.
Her eyes are bright, and I can remember Whitney telling me to cherish the time I have with my parents. That guilt of what my best friend lost has me saying
yes. “Sure, a few hours at the zoo sounds fun.”
“James?” Mom asks.
“Sure, hon. I know you’ve been wanting to go.” He stands and clears his plate. “I’m just going to run upstairs and change.”
“Are you two ready?” Mom asks.
I survey myself and then Mike. Jeans and T-shirts with gym shoes. “Yeah, we’re good.”
She claps her hands. “Give us ten minutes.” She rushes upstairs, I assume to change as well.
They both come backstairs a few minutes later and we’re all standing in the kitchen.
“Mike, why don’t you sit up front with James? Your legs are a lot longer than mine,” Mom offers.
“That’s not necessary,” he tries to decline.