Billionaire's Single Mom

“Sweet tea for me, please,” my mother said.

The waitress smiled. “I’ll be right back with those.” She headed out.

“Interesting sermon,” I said, trying to make conversation as I looked through my menu. Though we’d been at the restaurant many times, I did like to mix it up.

After a few seconds, I realized my mother hadn’t responded. I glanced over at her.

My mother was watching the entrance, an almost pensive expression on her face.

“Is something wrong, Mother?” I looked over at the entrance. Nothing more than a few more customers.

I wondered if she was worried about things getting a bit too loud for her tastes, but the place wasn’t even all that crowded. They’d need a major rush of customers before it’d get rowdier than one of my mother’s fundraisers, even without the alcohol.

“No, no,” my mother said. “Nothing’s wrong. I thought I saw someone I knew. You never know at a place. I didn’t want to be rude and ignore them.” She let out a nervous titter.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said carefully.

Something was strange. My mother was acting nervous as if she were hiding something.

Our waitress returned with our drinks.

“One coffee,” she said, placing the cup in front of me, along with the carafe. “And one sweet tea,” she said, placing the glass in front of my mother.

We offered our thanks.

“Are you ready to order yet?” the waitress asked.

My mother shook her head. “Not quite.”

I arched a brow but decided to not say anything. My mother obviously needed to concentrate on her order. Any delay meant I’d be hungrier for longer.

The waitress returned a few minutes later, and I was about to order when my mother spoke.

“We’ll need a few more minutes, dear. I’m so sorry.”

The waitress smiled brightly. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I eyed my mother. She almost never needed a lot of time ordering. Certainly not that long. After all, she’d had a long life to decide what she liked to eat. Culinary adventure had died as a possibility for her a couple of decades ago. Her delay made me suspect she was stalling for some reason, especially combined with the suspicious behavior before.

The waitress returned again, and my mother again pushed her off. I could tell the waitress was starting to get annoyed, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it until I knew what was going on.

I sipped my coffee. After the last time my mother waved off the waitress, my concern had turned into something more concrete. She was definitely stalling. But why? It wasn’t exactly like post-church brunch at a restaurant lent itself to a lot of different schemes.

“What’s the problem, Mother?” There was no reason not to get right to the point.

“Problem?” She lowered her menu to look at me. “Who says there’s a problem?”

I considered my words carefully. “Do you not want to eat here?”

“Of course I do.” She gave me a funny look. “I’m the one who picked this place. Why wouldn’t I want to eat here?”

I ran a hand through my hair, trying not to get frustrated. “It’s not a big deal if you’ve changed your mind. We can go somewhere else. I’m hungry, but I can wait. You obviously have some sort of issue though.”

My mother smiled. “Well, I haven’t changed my mind. We’re eating here. I don’t understand what’s even bringing this on.”

“You’ve sent the waitress away three times already.” I shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.”

“So?” Her tone made it sound like my confusion was the most ridiculous thing she’d heard all week.