Bran came downstairs to find his father surrounded by a throng of grandchildren, all enthralled by one of his many stories. The funny part was, his brothers and sisters, all of whom had heard that same story a hundred times, were just as wrapped up as the kids.
His mother saw him and excused herself from the group. They walked into the kitchen away from the others. Bran pulled out a chair for Gale and sat down at the table opposite her.
“How did it go with Nate’s parents?”
Bran folded his hands on top of the table and looked his mother right in the eye. “It was perfect, Mom. It couldn’t have gone any better if the whole thing had been written down on paper.”
“In other words, it was too perfect.”
“Exactly. Nate’s mother seems genuine enough. It’s his father I don’t trust. I just can’t
