Page 31 of The Best of Times
Aron’s dad leapt to his feet and crossed the room to Granny. She embraced him.
“You’re looking well,” he said.
“Yes, yes,” she said, pushing past him. “You know I hate small talk. Especially with one’s own son.”
She took her seat and allowed her son to settle back on the sofa.
“Come on, then, William. Spit it out.”
“Ah yes. Okay. Well. It’s that…your mother… she’d like to meet with you. Before the wedding.”
Aron was stunned. His mother hadn’t instigated as much as a text with him in years.
“Oh, does she now?” Granny said. “And I suppose we’re to indulge this magnanimous gesture, are we?”
Aron’s father looked at him, biting his lip. It appeared Aron held the deciding vote in this particular family conundrum. Granny had made it clear what she thought about it.
“I think it would be a good idea,” his father said. “If it’s okay with you.”
Every fibre of his being told Aron to tell his mother where to shove it. All except a tiny part that was desperate to know what she wanted. Really.
He also didn’t feel like dealing with an atmosphere at the wedding. It had been playing on his mind ever since he’d heard about the nuptials in the first place. Things had been frosty at other family gatherings over the years.
“Aron?” Granny asked. “Would you like that?”
He stared his father straight in the eyes. If he was about to throw himself into the lion’s den once more, he would make sure he had far more protection that his younger self. With age came wisdom.
“I have some conditions.”
“I thought you might,” his father replied. “Go on.”
Aron fought the smirk when he caught sight of Granny beaming at him. He could well imagine her pride at that moment. A real chip off the old block.
“I’m not going to be asked to behave in a certain way at the wedding. If Mother is trying to influence that, she can forget it.”
“I can guarantee there are no ulterior motives,” his father said. “Anything else?”
“We meet on neutral ground. I’m not coming to the house.”
His father winced.
“It hurts me because I still consider that house to be your home?—”
He was interrupted by Granny huffing.
“It’s a bit late for that, the way she’s behaved,” Granny said.
His father closed his eyes and let the moment pass. Aron suspected it was taking patience on his father’s behalf not to rise to Granny’s bait. Aron felt bad for him. Ever since his mother had rejected Aron, his father had been caught in the middle. He also loved him fiercely for refusing to share in his wife’s opinion.
“How about The Dorchester? Is that neutral enough?”
“A strong choice,” Granny conceded. “Tell Albert we’ll have my usual booth. It’s in the corner. Total privacy.”
“We?”
“If you think I’m sending this lad into the jaws of your wife unsupported, you don’t know me very well at all.”
His father sighed. “Fine.”
