“My mom? She’s fine. Fine.”

“Good,” I said. I had always really liked Mrs. Wilkins. “My dad says she quit a while back.”

Then I wanted to kick myself. Because, of course, the only way I could have known that Rob’s mom had quit working in our family’s restaurant was if I’d asked about her. And I didn’t want Rob thinking I cared enough about him to ask my dad how Mrs. Wilkins was doing. Even though that’s exactly what I’d done.

“Yeah,” Rob said. “Well, what happened was, she moved to Florida.”

I blinked at him. “She did? Florida?”

“Yeah,” he said. “With, um, that guy. Her boyfriend. Gary. Did you meet Gary?”

I had met Gary-No-Really-Just-Call-Me-Gary over Thanksgiving dinner at Rob’s house. Apparently, Rob did not remember this.

But I did.

Just like I remembered what happened in the barn afterwards. I’d told Rob I loved him.

If memory served, he never did say he loved me back.

“Her sister lives there,” Rob went on. “My aunt. And things were tight—you know, back home. Gary got a better job down there and asked her to come with him. So she said she’d try it out for a while. And she liked it so much, she ended up staying.”

“Oh,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say. Rob had lived with his mom in a pretty nice farmhouse—old and small, but well-maintained—outside of town. They’d been pretty close, for a parent and kid. Rob had more or less been supporting her. I wondered if he resented Just-Call-Me-Gary for taking all that away.

“Well,” I said. Because what else could I say? “I’m happy for her, I guess. For you both. That things are going so well.”

“Thanks,” Rob said.

Then Ann came over with our drinks and the chips and guacamole. My “usual” is a frozen strawberry margarita…only without the alcohol, since I’m not twenty-one. I saw Rob look at it in surprise, and couldn’t help grumbling, “It’s virgin.”

“Oh,” he said. Then he blinked. “It has an umbrella in it.”