Page 52 of Mom Ball

Apple Cart County could use a weird-weather warning to give everyone something else to worry about. They’re all way too concerned about who’s with who.

I give the two a slight wave, which satisfies them enough to move on. Timothy beats us to the restaurant door and holds it open.

“Thank you, son.”

He smiles and waits for us to enter before closing it behind him.

“Timothy, manners will get you far in life. A much more reliable skill than sports,” Nate says.

Timothy’s face falls as he slides in a booth. Nate slides in the other side. I almost sit by him out of habit.

This was our booth a decade ago.

Then I snap back to the present and sit by my son.

“Sports got you far,” Timothy says once we’re all seated.

“Yeah, but people get old and retire from jobs and sports. You’re never too old to be kind.” Nate nods across the restaurant toward a group of older people. “Nobody in here thinks of me as Nate the Great. In here, I’m Nate.”

“But your jersey’s behind the cash register.”

Nate laughs. “My high school jersey, not my Braves jersey.”

“Still your jersey.”

“What I’m trying to say is people who really know you care about who you are, not what you are. Always be kind and real. That’s what matters most.”

Timothy nods and smiles.

I study Nate as he pulls a menu from behind the napkin holder. If his grin didn’t win me over this morning, his humility might seal the deal.

“Hey, sugar, good to see you in here with these sweet peas.”

Mary’s voice calls my attention, and I look away from Nate before he catches me staring.

“What can I get y’all to drink?”

“Sweet tea?” Timothy whispers to me.

“One glass.” I glance at Mary and she laughs.

Nate orders tea, and I order water. She fills us in on what’s left on the hot bar. It’s not uncommon for certain vegetables to run out quickly during the Sunday meat-and-three special.

Macaroni usually goes first. Even though it’s not technically a vegetable, most Southern menus categorize it as such. And all Southern eaters choose it over anything green.

Mary finishes her laundry list of items and smiles at us. “It’s so nice to see y’all.”

I clench my teeth, waiting on the “together,” but it never comes. I exhale in relief and shock. Mary has quite the reputation as the unofficial matchmaker of Apple Cart.

If she isn’t hinting about something more between Nate and me, maybe it’s all in my head.

CHAPTER 12

Nate

“How did y’all manage to score an actual baseball field?” I toss and catch a ball a few times.

Morgan huffs. “I had a few choice words with Mr. Jeffrey when he came by the Pig this week.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and continues toward the dugout.

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