Page 31 of More Than Pen Pals

“Does noon at Dixon’s Cafe work for you?”

“Yes.” Why can’t I come up with more than one-syllable responses?

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah. Bye.” At least that was two syllables.

I hang up the phone and drop my head into my hands. I’m still in that position when my brother barges into my office.

“How’d it go last night?” He drops into the chair.

I run my fingers through my hair. “Fine.” I’m surprised he didn’t call it a date, but maybe he remembered not to tease me.

“When’s the second date?”

There it is.

“Lunch.” But I’m not sure it’s a date.

His eyebrows raise. “Today?”

I nod.

Randall whistles. “Impressive.”

He doesn’t need to know she invited me.

“Did you kiss her?”

I glare at him instead of giving another one-word reply.

“Settle down. You never were one to kiss and tell.”

Not that there was ever much to tell.

“I respect that,” Randall says, to my surprise.

I lean back in my chair and fold my arms in front of my chest.

“That’s all you’re going to tell me?” he asks.

“Yep.”

“All right then.” He stands. “Great chat.” He reaches across the desk, flicks my forehead, and then walks out the door, leaving it standing open.

Thirty seconds later, he’s back. “Today’s our lunch with Mom.”

Once a month, our mother takes the two of us out to lunch. We’ve been doing it since Randall moved back after law school a year ago. I don’t know how she’d respond to me canceling, because I’ve never dared to do it. Nobody cancels on Ruth Hamilton—not even her children.

My brother leans against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know you can’t cancel on Mom without a compelling reason. And you also know she’ll demand to know what it is.”

“I’m well aware.”

“And I’m not giving her your excuse. That’s all on you, buddy.”

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