I’m confused. “My mom?”
“Yeah. Is she one of those nose in the air Charleston bluebloods?”
Now I chuckle. “You are going to laugh so hard at yourself after you meet my mom. Yeah, she was born privileged, but you’d never guess it.” I give him directions to my parents’ house as we go. They live downtown, not far from me. It only takes a little over five minutes to get there from my place. Even though they live close, I don’t see them as often as I’d like.
When we pull in the driveway, he says,
“This place is awesome.”
“We love it. I grew up here.”
It’s an old three-story brick home, located south of Broad Street, that’s been here since the eighteen hundreds. It exudes the kind of Old World charm that tourists flock to.
We park and walk up the back of the house. Mom is waiting to greet us and I observe Ben as she folds him in her arms. Mom is one of those people who you can’t possibly dislike. She warms you up, no matter how cold of a person you might be. Her hair is still honey blond, like mine, and I inherited her hazel eyes. She has Ben grinning with that hug of hers.
“Ben, Sam has told us so much about you. It’s wonderful to meet you finally. Come in and please make yourself at home.”
“Daddy!”
“Angel Pie! Give me some of that heavenly sugar of yours.” Daddy wraps his bear-like arms around me and lifts me off the ground in one of his trademark hugs. They always make me giggle. When he puts me down, he turns around and says, “You must be Ben. It’s a pleasure meeting you.” And they shake hands. Ben eyes my dad’s stout frame. Both men are tall, but Dad is much broader with a dusting of silver in his brown hair. His friendly brown eyes smile at us and I know he’s happy to see us.
“Same here, sir.”
“Call me Randy. And come on in. What can I get you to drink?” Dad corrals Ben, and Mom pushes me into the kitchen.
“Why, Sam, you didn’t tell me how good looking that boy is.”
“Mom! He’s not a boy, and yes, he is good looking.” I grin. “What did you cook?”
“Daddy’s grilling filets and I have a salad, my special potato casserole, haricots vert, and I made peach cobbler for dessert.”
“Oh yum. Vanilla ice cream too?”
“You know it, honey.”
“Laney and Evan?”
Mom says, “They should be here in a few minutes.”
When I join Dad and Ben, they’re laughing and Ben appears to be at ease, which makes me feel relieved.
“I was just telling Ben about the time I tried to make you girls pancakes for breakfast,” Dad says.
“Oh, they were awful. He could’ve used them for pavers out back.”
“See? I told you.”
Ben laughs. “I enjoy cooking,” he gives me a pointed look, “when I don’t get distracted.”
“Well, this one,” I shake my head, pointing at Dad with my thumb, “Mom only lets him get close to the grill.”
“What’s that about the grill?” Laney asks as she and Evan join us. I can see Ben eyeing them, and he’s probably noticing the similarities in us. Laney and I have the same color hair only I’m taller and a tad bit slimmer, but not by much.
I make all the introductions and then explain Dad’s kitchen ban. After Dad takes all kinds of ribbing from us in his good-natured way, Mom informs him it’s time to light the grill, to which we all die laughing.
“Whatever did I say?” Mom asks.
“We were telling Ben about Dad’s culinary talents,” I explain.
“Oh, dear,” Mom sighs.
“At least he can grill,” Ben says.
“Yeah, but you should’ve seen the time that one grill exploded on him,” I say.
Laney and Evan start laughing. Evan says, “I remember you telling me about this.”
Dad rubs his face and gets this sheepish look. “It was on Christmas Eve and I did have a bit too much eggnog.”
“A bit?” Mom asks.
I look at Ben and say, “He turned on the gas and forgot then he went to light the grill and thought the gas was off, but he put the lighter to it anyway and kaboom. He’s lucky he’s still here.”
“I am. And that should teach you all a lesson,” Dad says.
“What? Don’t drink?” I ask.
“No. Don’t drink and cook!”
Now we all really laugh. Mom adds, “How about you stay away from the grill while drinking?” and she clears her throat loudly because Dad stands there with a drink in hand. Now he looks adequately chastened, and Mom goes up to him and ruffles his hair.
“I’ve only had one, Michelle.”
“I know, Randy,” Mom says. “Now go light the grill.”
Ben pipes in, “Care if I join you, Randy?”
“Sure, come on.”
Ben follows Dad out and that gives Laney the opportunity to attack.
“Dang, sis, he’s freaking hot!”
“Hey, what am I?” Evan asks.
Laney looks at him and says, “You’re my husband.”
“That makes no sense,” Evan says, pouting.
“Yes, it does. You’re hot, too, but we’re not talking about you. We’re talking about Ben.”