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I was swinging across when the barn door opened, and my grandfather yelled for me.
“Miranda?”
“Up here, Grandpa!” I hopped off the swing and leaned over the edge to see him. “What’s up?”
“Let’s go out to dinner.” He smiled.
“Can Jeremy and Tara come with?”
“If they want.”
I turned back to my friends. “Well? You wanna go with us?”
Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. I can text ma and let her know.”
Tara had her phone out typing out a message. “I’m good.”
We went down the ladder, and Grandpa shook his head when he saw Jeremy’s black eye. “Gary?”
“Please, Mr. Walker.” A tear traveled down his cheek.
“I know, son. I won’t make more trouble for you.” Grandpa wrapped his arms around Jeremy. “Door is always open, so is the barn.”
“Thanks.” He sniffled and Tara and I joined in the hug.
“So where we chowing at?” She asked as we all took a step back.
“Let’s go class up the yacht club.” Grandpa chuckled and motioned outside to his truck.
The three of us ran over and climbed inside buckling our seatbelts when Grandpa opened his door and slid in.
He started the truck; I turned up the radio volume and changed the station to the local rock one we loved.
Dancing in our seats, we enjoyed the drive to the yacht club and I couldn’t help giggling when my grandpa winked at thevalet worker and told him to make sure he didn’t scratch up his good truck.
He always told me the story of how proud he was to buy a brand new truck in nineteen ninety-nine. I don’t think they made the ghastly shade of baby poop anymore.
Thankfully.
We walked into the club and immediately I felt underdressed. I hated that about this place. No one should look down on you for your tax bracket. But I don’t think Carson’s got that memo.
Peggy Carson looked over at us and I saw the scowl pass across her face. Henry’s mom, Margaret, turned in her chair to gawk at us as well.
My stomach felt like there were hundreds of butterflies inside it, and then Henry looked at me and smiled.
Tara grabbed my hand and leaned in close. “I think he likes you.”
“Shh.” I giggled and Jeremy leaned in.
“What are we whispering about?”
“Jere, I think Henry likes Miranda.” Tara giggled harder.
The hostess came over and led us to a table. She took our drink order and disappeared to find our server.
“I’ll be back, Grandpa. I want to wash my hands.”
He nodded, and I took off for the bathrooms.
