Right.
I should have known.
“Then, we had lunch … because we were hungry.He made us grilled cheese sandwiches using sourdough bread with olives and rosemary in the bread, and Havarti cheese.I chopped up cucumbers to go on the side.Then we ate our lunch.Which made us feel full.There.Three things.”
“That was two.”
“No.That was three.The homework, the making of the food, and then eating of the food.Technically, it was three activities.”
My chest inflated with a deep inhale as I pulled off the road and down the long, narrow driveway that led to the distillery.A moment later, it opened up into a big open space, lined on every side by towering evergreens.
“Do they sell food here?”she asked.“I’m hungry again.”
“I think so.Like appies and stuff.”
We climbed out of the truck, my child with her sketchbook and phone—of course.
Spencer was behind the bar and greeted us with a big smile when the door chimed after opening.“Hey, stranger!”he called out.He set a cocktail onto the wide, glossy, wooden bar for a customer before coming out to greet us properly.He opened his arms for a hug, and I stepped into embrace him.
“Hey, Spence,” I said, my tone remorseful.“Sorry it’s taken me so long to come by.”
We parted, and he shrugged his broad shoulders.“No worries, man.You’re still getting settled in.I get it.Besides, the kids have been keeping tabs on you and filling me in.”He winked and focused on Mabel.“Hey, Mabes.How’s it going?”
My daughter lifted one shoulder with zero commitment.“Fine.What kind of food do you serve here?I’m hungry.”
Spencer grinned his bright, straight, white teeth.“Not a ton.We’ve got bar snacks, mostly.The salty variety to keep people ordering beverages.”
Mabel made a face of being impressed.“That’s actually a very clever business strategy.”
Spencer’s green eyes lit up, and he laughed.“Thanks.I can have the cook whip you up a grilled cheese, or some nachos if you’d like?We also do onion rings, fries, deep fried pickles.Or we’ve got potato chips, olives, pretzels.”
“I would like a small plate of nachos, please,” she said.“No jalapeños, please.And no guacamole.Avocados taste like soap.But extra black olives if you have them.”
Chuckling again, Spencer nodded and headed behind the bar, calling through the chest-height window into the back.“Nachos.No guac, no jalapeños.And load that sucker up with black olives.”
Someone in the back yelled, “Heard.”
“What can I get you guys to drink?”Spencer asked as Mabel and I slid onto adjacent barstools.
“Surprise me,” I said.
“I’ll have a ginger ale, please.”Mabel opened her sketchpad to a drawing of a very realistic robin.It always amazed me how wonderful an artist she was.
“Hey, that’s really good,” Spencer said, setting down Mabel’s ginger ale in front of her.“You drew that?”
“Yes.Today.I went over to Damon Campbell’s house, because it makes sense that we should become acquaintances, and we went birdwatching.”
Spencer knew that Mabel was autistic and gifted, but he also got a kick out of her bluntness, and I could tell he had about a thousand questions in his big curly head just desperate to bust free.
“Mabel believes that since she and Damon are both around the same age and homeschooled, it makes sense for them to try to become friends.I dropped her off there on my way to work today.They did their schoolwork together, then she took him birdwatching.”
Twin dimples emerged on Spencer’s cheeks.“And did he enjoy birdwatching?”
“I didn’t ask,” Mabel said.“I enjoyed it.But I always enjoy it.”
I met Spencer’s eyes, and we both smirked at each other.
“I will say that he surprised me a few times though.I was admiring some lichen on a tree and I asked him if he ever stops to marvel at the complexity of lichen.”
