Rory shuffled back into the passenger’s seat and engaged the seat belt. “Come on then, what are we waiting for?”
* * * *
Zane didn’t look like his parents. Mr. Fox was reed thin, standing at about five feet eleven inches. Rory estimated he was in his mid-fifties, although his grey hair and male pattern baldness made it harder to determine the man’s actual age. Mrs. Fox was short and plump with blonde hair turning white, which was tied in a bun. Both older people welcomed Rory effusively, doing their best to put him at ease. Although the many questions they peppered him with over dinner had the opposite effect.
Zane finally shook his head, wiped his mouth, and set down his fork. “Mom, Dad, leave Ror be. He don’t like talking that much, you’ve about wore him out with ya jabbering.” He smiled at Rory, who returned the smile.
“Sorry, son,” Mr. Fox said. “It’s just Zane has never brought anyone home to meet us before and we’re curious.”