My mother was at the sink washing up the dinner dishes. “Hey, Mom.” “Hello boys. I was on the phone with Sarah Bayliss and she said you were very welcome to come to the next meeting and …” She turned around and stopped mid-sentence when she saw Boomer. I could tell by the look on her face that she was wondering who he was and why he was there with us. “This is Mr. Williams,” I said. She dried her hands on her apron. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Williams,” she said as they shook hands. “My pleasure, ma’am. Let’s forget that Mr. Williams stuff, though. You can just call me Boomer. Everybody else does.” “Sure. I’m happy to meet you, Boomer . . . Boomer Williams. You’re Boomer Williams? The Boomer Williams?” Her look of confusion returned. “That’s me. I don’t suppose they made a second one.” “I’m really happy to meet you. I thought that you were . . . I mean . . .” “I thought he was dead too,” Timmy said, completing her thought. My mother now looked embarrassed.
