“Nothing, Ronan. I just want to make sure everyone is acquainted, that’s all,” she insisted.
“Hello, Rory.” Mrs. Jenkins held out her hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”
He shook hands and made eye contact, as his parents taught him. “It’s nice to see you as well, Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins.”
“The pleasure is all ours, Rory. Such a fine young man,” Mrs. Jenkins said.
Rory held in a sigh. He was thirty-five and his mother talked about him like he was still a teenager. He continued to be the good son he was raised to be. No questions, do as your parents ask, no matter how old you get. That’s what a well-behaved son does.
“Isn’t he though,” his mother said.
They continued to talk. Rory, his father, and Mr. Jenkins moved aside, so the women could talk. Rory shifted his feet. His stomach twisted into knots. His mother only talked to another woman this long if she knew she had a daughter she could set him up with. His mother planned this interaction. She’d find the right words to draw out their daughter.
“And of course, Duncan and his wife have a beautiful little girl. She’s just the sweetest thing. I hope Rory gives us grandchildren someday.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” Mrs. Jenkins turned. “Missy, come meet the Sinclairs.”
A young woman glided over to stand next to her. She had fair skin, silvery-blonde hair, a row of freckles across her button nose, and a build similar to Mrs. Jenkins.
“This is my daughter, Missy.”
How did mentioning grandchildren remind her of her daughter?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Missy shook hands with everyone. When she got to Rory, her hand lingered for a few extra moments as she gazed into his eyes. She smiled and batted her eyelashes. He felt nothing.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Rory said.
“What a lovely young lady,” his mother said, “and so polite.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Missy said.
“So, is your husband or boyfriend here?” his mother asked.
“Oh, I don’t have a beau, ma’am. I’m a proper lady waiting for a proper gentleman.”
This was the opening his mother needed. She wasted no time and swooped in.
“We must have you over for lunch. We have Sunday lunch every week after morning services. Why don’t you join us sometime?”
“That sounds absolutely charming,” Mrs. Jenkins said. Mr. Jenkins and his father exchanged knowing glances. Rory stood there, unable to speak.
“Wonderful. We will keep in touch.” The two women exchanged numbers and parted ways.
“Let’s head to lunch, shall we?” his mother asked with a satisfied smile.
*
THE FAMILY SATaround the dining table his brother built for their parents for their thirtieth wedding anniversary. Duncan never failed to show how much more skilled he was than Rory. A skill his parents praised. His mother frowned at Rory’s insistence on knitting and baking.
Rory pushed food around his plate. His family talked around him while he stared at his uneaten food. He’d disappointed Bernard. Bernard wanted to be friends, and because he was gay, his mother refused to let him see his best friend. It’d been too long. Why couldn’t they pick up like they did when Bernard came back to him after coming out? He owed it to Bernard.
“So, what do you think, Rory?” his mother said.
“Huh, what do I think about what?”
His mother sighed. “About Missy.”
“I don’t really know her,” Rory said.
