“That sounds familiar.”
I look up to see Dottie standing next to the table. “The appetite of boys is a thing to behold.”
She laughs, leaning down to give me a quick hug. “That it is. I take it this is Charlie? And who might you be?” she says, looking to Luca. Then her brow furrows. “Wait a second. Luca Calloway? I heard you were back in town.”
Luca stands and puts out his hand. “That’s me. I’m sorry, I don’t remember if we’ve met.”
Dot waves him off after shaking his hand. “You wouldn’t, it’s fine. But I’ve seen your face in the paper a few times recently. And I think you went to school with my son Troy Barbieri. I think you’re the same age. He’s working in the kitchen for me now.”
Luca’s face breaks into a grin. “Troy’s here? Yeah, I remember him. We used to hang out quite a bit.”
Dot smiles warmly. “I’ll let him know to come say hi. Now, what can I get y’all to eat?”
We place our orders, and Dot walks off with a promise to bring Charlie a milkshake on the house.
“Mom, what is she wearing?” Charlie whispers under his breath.
“It’s called a poodle skirt. Dot likes them.”
His eyebrows raise in a typical preteen expression thatclearly shows he thinks it looks weird, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else about Dot’s clothing. And when she comes back with water for all of us and a strawberry milkshake for Charlie, he gives her a very polite “thank you.”
“Charlie, what do you think would be the hardest thing to do in baseball with a prosthetic arm?” Luca asks suddenly. He’s leaning forward across the table, staring at my son intently.
“Um.” Charlie takes a slurp of the milkshake. “I mean, throwing is the obvious answer ’cause it takes so many different muscles and stuff. But I can throw pretty good with my natural arm, so that’s no big deal to me. I guess, probably batting. Even if you learn to swing one-handed, it’s hard to get enough strength and speed. Coach Rhett taught me how, and I tried a bunch, but it’s hard to always know exactly what isn’t working and how to fix it.”
Luca nods, then leans back. “Right. Feedback. Just like gait analysis. Huh.”
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Calloway, holy shit. It is you.” An absolutely giant man approaches the booth with a wide grin.
Luca pushes back from the table, and the two men engage in a backslapping hug that makes their old friendship obvious.
“Troy. It’s good to see you, man.”
The two of them immediately start talking about high school memories, and Charlie tugs on my arm. “Mom, I see a couple friends over at the counter. Can I go say hi?”
“Of course. Just keep an eye out for when the food arrives so you can come back to eat.”
“’Kay.” He slides out of the booth and walks over to the two boys sitting on stools with milkshakes in front of them. I watch them for a minute, my heart feeling all warm and fuzzy seeing my son happy.
The thought that I might have to dash his hopes if the prosthesis he wants is too expensive douses those feelings.
“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours? You were smiling, then suddenly you stopped.”
I look up to see Luca sitting across from me again. “Nothing,” I reply too quickly, and Luca’s expression tells me he sees right through me.
“Will you at least consider letting me help?” he says quietly.
I look down at the table, focusing my gaze on a small scratch in the bright-white laminate. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I love that you want to help Charlie, but…” I trail off as a warm hand reaches over and covers mine, squeezes it quickly, then retreats.
“I’ll back off for now. But please think about it?”
Lifting my gaze to meet his, I nod.
“I will.”
