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“I thought I’d take Caleb and show him around town. Let him see his mom’s old stomping grounds,” I tell them.
“That sounds like fun, doesn’t it, Caleb?” she asks.
He just shrugs as he shovels food into his mouth.
“There are a few new attractions you guys should check out. We have our own vineyard now. What’s it called, Graham?” Mom asks.
“Shining Rock Winery,” he answers.
“That’s right—Shining Rock. They have really good wines, and they have a café that makes an excellent fig and pear salad. They even bottle grape juice for the kiddos to enjoy.”
“Where is it?” I ask.
“You know, I can’t remember. I’m so bad with directions. Maybe you could show them, Graham,” she suggests.
He stops with a forkful of chicken casserole in midair. His eyes slide to Mom.
I want to crawl under the table.
“We wouldn’t want to impose. I’m sure I’ll be able to find it. Besides, Caleb would probably enjoy riding the trolley through the valley more than a winery,” I quickly interject.
Mom shrugs. “I just know that you enjoy wine and thought it would be fun.”
“I have to get back to work,” Graham begins.
“See, he has to work,” I quip.
“But,” he continues, “I’ll be happy to show you another time. Maybe this weekend, if you don’t have other plans.”
“That would be lovely. Wouldn’t it, Taeli?” Mom answers for me.
“I guess,” I say, not wanting to be rude.
“It’s a date, then,” Mom decides.
“Not a date,” Graham and I say in unison.
“Oh, relax. I didn’t mean a date, date.”
I give her a look that says, Stop.
I finish my lunch in silence as Graham and Caleb chat about school and the missed soccer camp.
I’m in awe of how easily he gets my closed-off son to open up. Caleb is not a talker. He’s more the grunt-and-mumble type. I have to pry information out of him, yet here he is, animatedly chatting with a man he’s known all of twenty-four hours.
Do all kids hate the sound of their mother’s voice or just mine?
“Mom?”
Caleb’s call pulls me from my thoughts.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Can I go?” he asks impatiently.
“I’m sorry, bud. I wasn’t listening. Can you go where?”
He huffs. “To the campground with Graham.”
“Now?” I ask, confused.
“Graham was just telling us that he left his father at the campground, entertaining the children with water guns and sprinklers. He thought Caleb might enjoy dropping by and meeting some of the kids his age and cooling off in the water,” Mom explains.
“What about the trolley?” I ask Caleb.
“Can we do that another day?” he asks.
“I guess so,” I mutter, disappointed.
“I didn’t mean to cut into your plans. I’m going to be working out there all day, and I’m sure Dad and the kids will be playing into the evening. Then, we’ll probably fire up the grills and throw some hot dogs on them. You two should stop by,” Graham says to me and then turns back to Caleb. “After your day of exploring with your mom.”
Caleb frowns, but he doesn’t object.
Then, all their eyes look to me for an answer.
“We can do that,” I agree.
“Then, it’s settled,” Mom gleefully announces.
