“The food smells great, honey,” dad said as we took our seats. They glanced at each other with such loving eyes that I had to turn away.
“Are you guys ever going to stop acting like teenagers with a crush?” I asked and took a bite of my taco. Pieces of crunchy shells fell onto my plate, and I used them to scoop up rice and beans.
“You’ll understand when you find the right person,” mom said.
“As if the right person exists,” I mumbled and ignored mom’s glare.
“How’s Nancie?” dad asked. He always did have a soft spot for her.
“She’s good, still deciding on California.” I mentioned Nancie’s dilemma to them over the phone. “Oh, I saw Gavin and his mom at their house a few days ago.”
“Gavin?” Mom narrowed her eyes.
“Ron’s best friend? From like, birth?” I offered. My parents both nodded.
“I haven’t seen him in forever! And his mother, Mona, right? I think the last time we spoke with her was the month after Charlie passed,” dad said. He was already on his fifth taco.
“We had brunch with them when Mona was first diagnosed with cancer,” mom said. “But I haven’t kept in touch. How are they?”
“Actually, not so well,” I said. “Mona’s cancer is terminal. She accounted that she has six months.”
They both gasped, and pushed away their half-eaten plates.
“The poor thing,” mom said. “That poor family. I couldn’t imagine. Just one tragedy after another.”
“It makes you realize what’s important.” Dad grabbed mom’s hand and shook his head sadly.
“How’s Gavin doing?” Mom asked.
“He seems strong,” I said. There was no way I was going to tell them about my offer. “I’m sure he’s devastated, but I think he’s just trying to be strong for his mom.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” mom said. “Mona and Charlie both raised an incredible kid. Charlie fell into quite a bit of money before Gavin was even born, but you would never have realized it. That kid was always so grateful for everything, and so well-behaved. He could have been a spoiled brat, but Ron was the spoiled half of their friendship.” Mom smiled. “I remember taking them both out for ice cream one time, I guess you could say I was the cool aunt, but my credit card was declined at the register. Gavin pulled out a $50 bill, paid for the three of us, tipped $20 to the poor girl working on a hot summer day, and then gave her the remaining $20 to pay for everyone else who came after us. He was only 10 years old.”
Dad chuckled. “When Ron was 10 years old he was a little Scrooge. He wouldn’t even spend money on pencil erasers. He just crossed everything out on paper.”
“Gavin really was a special kid. It’s no wonder he turned into a catch,” mom said. “Oh, poor thing. Losing both his mother and father in such tragic ways.”
I fidgeted in my seat. Their praising Gavin really wasn’t helping my conscience.
“You let him know that if he needs absolutely anything, he can come to us,” mom said.
“Although I don’t think there’s anything he needs that he couldn’t get,” dad said and finished his dinner. “His dad’s company sold for several billion, if I remember correctly.”
“You can’t get love from money,” mom said. “If he ever needs a family, you let him know he has one right here.”
I promised her I would, and we finished the rest of our dinner with a happier subject. But as I said goodbye, and promised again that I would let Gavin know, I couldn’t help but think that I had done exactly the opposite of what she wanted.
Gavin knew there was nothing from me he would ever want.
Chapter Nine
Gavin
I was on my third beer for the night by the time Ron met me at the local bar we frequented. It was still early in the afternoon, and Ron had just gotten bac
k from a morning of fishing when I messaged him letting him know that I would be at the bar. He hadn’t wasted any time in meeting me, and soon we both were enjoying our drinks and exchanging stories of our uneventful morning. It wasn’t particularly surprising, I supposed, when the conversation turned toward my mom, and her diagnosis.
“You could have told me,” Ron said. The bartender filled my glass of whiskey and nodded in Ron’s direction. “When you first found out, you could have told me instead of waiting for a public dinner.”