Tuesday morning startedoff with Abel greeting me with a curt nod and making no mention of our late-night meeting. I spent half the day trying to puzzle out where we stood with each other. I gave up after realizing he seemed determined to ignore me. Despite him urging me to do so, I couldn’t forget what had transpired in the studio last night. I’d enjoyed writing with him as much as I’d hated the subsequent fallout.
On Wednesday, Cole surprised me with an invitation for dinner at his parent’s house, and it turned out that Ezra was invited as well. That’s how we ended up driving over together in the drummer’s Jeep after wrapping up at the studio.
“They’re excited to host the two of you,” Cole said as we sped through a neatly landscaped neighborhood. “My mom’s been bugging me about bringing you over ever since I told her we have a new guitarist helping us with the album.”
“Are you close with your parents?” I asked.
He turned in his seat to look at me. “Yeah, I’ve been staying with them since coming back here, and Ezra spent half of his childhood at our place. They nearly killed me when I told them I was thinking of booking a hotel for the month. So here I am, thirty years old and living with my parents.”
Cole’s house was a whimsical two-story colonial-style home located on the other side of town from where Molly and I lived. It probably would have looked regal if painted white, but instead, murals of plants and various flowers covered the facade.
“Wow, this place looks cool,” I commented.
“Yeah, my mom’s a painter, so she did most of this herself,” Cole explained, earning a surprised gasp from me. It must have taken a lot of time to get something like this done.
We climbed out of Ezra’s Jeep, and moments later, a woman emerged through the front entrance, waving at us with enthusiasm.
She had jet-black hair, a few shades darker than Cole’s, and as we got closer, I noticed a familiar curve to her lips. She must have been Cole’s mom. Her big, easy grin confirmed my suspicion. She looked just like him when she smiled.
“Ezra! Good to see you, my boy.” She pulled the drummer into a tight hug, before leaning back and scanning his face. “You look much better than the last time I saw you a few weeks ago.”
“Thanks, Em. I’ve been going to the gym more often.”
I blushed at that, remembering him saying I had inspired him to do so.
“And this must be Adeline?” she asked, peering over Ezra’s shoulder at me.
Ezra stepped aside, and I walked up to Cole’s mom, giving her my best smile and stretching out my palm.
“Nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me,” I said.
She glanced at my outstretched hand and spread her arms wide. “I’m Emma, or Em. We’re huggers here.”
Apparently, that was another thing that ran in the family.
Emma led us through the house and out to the backyard where a gray-haired man was grilling something on the barbecue. His head turned when he heard us approach, and my eyes widened when I saw he had what could only be a joint sticking out of his mouth.
“Jeez, Dad, you couldn’t wait for us before lighting up?” Cole chided in a light voice that told me this behavior wasn’t particularly out of the norm.
“You know I find it calming to smoke while I grill,” he drawled, putting the joint on the ashtray on the table to his right, and moving to greet us.
“Adeline, what a beautiful name,” he said after introducing himself and giving me another signature Abbott hug. “Are you named after anyone?”
“My great grandma, who I unfortunately never met. When I was born, my mom thought I had her eyes.”
“Ah, how nice.” He nodded, moving to pick his joint back up. “We wanted to find a name with history like that for Cole, but when he was born, his energy was truly one of a kind, so we settled on a name that didn’t have roots in our past.”
Cole winced. “I should warn you that won’t be the last time you’ll hear about energies tonight. My parents have never left the counterculture. Don’t even get them started on the therapeutic properties of psychedelics.”
I grinned at him. “I’m starting to understand so many things about you.”
“Oh, I’m sure tonight will be a revelation.” Sirus Abbott chuckled. “Ezra, why don’t you pour us some wine. The food is almost ready.”
It turned out Cole’s parents were vegetarian, so Sirus had grilled us a mountain of eggplant, corn, and artichokes marinated in some kind of a tangy sauce.
I couldn’t help but like Cole’s parents, who seemed as free-spirited as their son. They told us stories of Cole’s childhood. Ezra had become a prominent presence in Cole’s shenanigans after they had met and started hanging out.
“I always thought Cole would be a painter,” Emma said, looking at her son with obvious fondness. “He has such talent for it. But music called to his soul, and of course he’d be a fool not to listen to his calling.”
