Chapter 1: The First Bite
I took my grandson to a café for pie, and he got a little messy — the man at the next table yelled that I didn't know how to raise a child.
I'm 75.
Since my daughter and her husband d*ed in a car accident last year, I've been raising their 7-year-old son, Lindsey.
Yesterday, he asked to visit the café where his parents used to take him for apple pie.
It was the first time he had wanted to go back.
The place was crowded with people working on laptops, so we took a small table by the window.
Lindsey kept his voice low.
When the waitress brought our pie, he smiled.
"Mom always let me have the first bite," he said.
"Then I'd better follow the rules."
The ice cream was already melting.
Lindsey took a bite, got a white streak across his chin, and let out a little laugh.
The man at the next table snapped his laptop shut.
"Can't you control him?"
I stared at him.
Lindsey was seated quietly, his spoon still in his hand.
The woman across from the man looked us over.
"Some people just don't belong in places like this."
"If you don't know how to raise a child," the man added, "keep him at home instead of ruining everyone else's day."
Lindsey wiped his chin so hard it turned pink.
"Did I do something bad, Grandma?"
I reached for his hand, but the café manager had already stepped over.
She glanced toward the other table before speaking.
"I'm sorry, ma'am.
Perhaps it would be best if you took your order to go."
My face grew hot.
Lindsey's pie was barely touched, and his little paper cup was still full.
I picked it up because I couldn't think of anything else to do.
"Come on, sweetheart," I whispered.
"We'd better go."
Lindsey caught my sleeve.
"No, Grandma.
We can't leave."
"Why?"
He was staring past me toward the entrance, his eyes wide.
I turned.
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May you like
What did Lindsey see at that door — and will that man finally get what's coming to him?
Comment **"NEXT"** if you want Part 2.
