Ascension

Chapter 5

Mick was arranging a set of sausages on a breakfast plate when he felt the snap of a towel on his rear.

“Sam, I know how much you like my ass, but really, not now.”

“It’s not bad, but definitely not the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks for the ego boost.”

“I exist to prune.” She took the plate from him and passed it over to a waitress who was already holding two other breakfasts on a tray. Sam gave the girl a pointed look and waited until she left the kitchen before turning back to him. “Talk,” she said simply.

Mick raised an eyebrow, glancing at the kitchen door swinging in the overburdened girl’s wake. “If she drops anything, it’s on your head.”

“She’s got steady hands. Now talk to me. What’s wrong?”

He took the pan off the stove and strolled over to drop it in Dennis’s sink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said simply.

“You cancelled our dinner double date on Sunday, you’ve barely spoke all week, you’ve been quiet all morning, and now, you’re on the defensive. I know you, Mick. Something’s wrong. Talk to me.”

He fixed her with a belligerent look and took out a rag to mop the counter with. “There’s nothing to talk about. I told you we cancelled because of the Ascension.”

“Tiana Westley from Harmony Estates was taken. You don’t even know her.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Is Gabe still sleeping at home?”

His mouth tightened. “No, he left early today. Looks like some students of his want to ask him some questions about the text and he has some work to finish with his Mr. Rogers from hell.”

“I hope he had breakfast before he left.”

“I made him pancakes. Chocolate chip. He was in a rush, they’re his favourite, and he needs the energy.”

Sam smiled fondly. “Sometimes, I think you’re way too good for that boy, Mick Hardy.”

He chuckled. “It’s the other way around, Sam.”

“No, it isn’t,” she said seriously. “It really isn’t.” When Mick kept polishing the countertop without looked at her, she straightened up and fixed her ponytail with a decisive set to her jaw. “We get off in an hour,” she said firmly, using the tone she generally wore whenever her daughter was being particularly difficult. “I’m taking you to lunch. No arguments.”

She was out the kitchen door before he could argue.

True to her word, as soon as Marty came in for the next shift and she had changed back into her jeans and sweater, she called out a goodbye to Betsy, grabbed Mick’s helmet and dragged him out as he was pulling on his jacket. He tried to complain, but she shot him a severe look that made him clamp his mouth shut. Sam directed them to a small sandwich and grill bar on the corner of West and Main and picked up a couple of turkey sandwiches before telling Mick to take them to the park.

“We’re not eating here?”

“Jennifer Mosby runs this place and she’s a gossip,” she replied, buckling on the helmet and climbing up behind him. “You don’t want to eat here.”

Mick obeyed her without argument and let her steer him to a quiet spot with a bench shaded by a circle of trees. There, she handed him a sandwich and started unwrapping hers. She didn’t start talking until they had taken a few bites.