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Sitting across from Birdie, Angus watched the video for what seemed the hundredth time.
Shaking his head at Pinkie’s attempt at twerking, he said, “It’s like watchin’ twa duck eggs in a hankie.”
Mia was looking over his arm, watching it with him. “They’re so funny just being themselves. How do you replicate that?”
“Don’t know,” Birdie sighed, full of pancakes and sausage. “Somehow we’ve got to figure it out, this time to the lyrics to ‘Menopause Rhapsody.’”
Mia admitted, “You know, the lyrics are super funny. Maybe we should make the second video the same way we did the first one, and just, I dunno, let them do their thing. We could edit around it to capture and expand on all the funny parts? I mean it worked before.”
Birdie could hear the chimes on the diner door jingle.
Mia waved at whomever had walked in with a big grin on her face. “Hey, Uncle Grant.”
“Heya, Mia. How’s it going, kiddo?”
“I’m good. This is Angus, remember me telling you about him?”
“Sure do,” Grant said, shaking the Scot’s hand.
“And you know my mom, right? I mean, you’ve known her for a long time, but you haven’t seen her recently.” Mia gave Birdie the crazy-eyes look, but she wasn’t sure what she wanted her to do exactly.
“Hi, Grant,” Birdie said with a quick hand wave.
He nodded his head toward Birdie, all suited up in his police chief uniform.
“Y’all have a good breakfast,” he said, making his way to the counter.
“Mom,” Mia whisper-hissed. “Go talk to him.”
“About what? I already said hello.”
Mia rolled her eyes and groaned. “God, Mom, don’t you know anything about how to talk to men? Go flirt with him. Tell him… how much you like a man in uniform.”
Birdie scrunched her face. “I’m not doing that. Trust me, that’s not how you get a man’s attention. Not that I want it. I definitely don’t want his attention.”
“Why not? He’s good-looking and he’s got a stable job.”
“Mia, stop it. I don’t need my fourteen-year-old daughter to educate me on how to pick up men.”
“Somebody needs to,” she mumbled, slamming her arms over her chest.
The door chimes started jingling again. This time, Mia’s eyes went round and she slumped down in her seat.
Birdie tried to turn her head to the side but was having some difficulties seeing who it was because of the high backs of the red leather seats.
Before she could make out who had Mia all bajiggity. A low voice said, “Hey, Mia.”
“Hey, Oliver.”
Oliver? Oliver Sanderson?
Birdie craned her head to finally get a good look at the kid Lucas had so unsuccessfully maligned.
She caught him from the side, wearing baggy pants and a hoodie. His hair a little shaggy and sporting some old-school Converse tennis shoes.
He said something to his mom, who handed him a couple dollars and started to make his way back out the door. He paused, deciding to say more to Mia.
“Will I see you at church tomorrow?”
