Mama B - A Time to Dance (Book 2) by Michelle Stimpson Read Free Book Online

said.
    This time, I let
him get in front as he marched straight to the concession stand and asked for a
manager. Just as we were about to explain the situation, a young man walked up
with a frazzled look on his face and jumped ahead of Dr. Wilson.
    “Ma’am,” the
upset boy hollered at the manager, “I need you to turn on the lights inside one
of the theaters. I just lost my wallet.”
    Dr. Wilson
tapped the man on the shoulder. “Is this it?”
    He turned, with
worry still twisting his face, and looked at the wallet Dr. Wilson presented.
    The young man
snatched the wallet from Dr. Wilson’s hand. “Dude, you tryin’ to take my
wallet?” He took a step forward into the doctor’s personal space.
    No, he
didn’t! This boy was
young enough to be my grandson. Tell you, I felt like pinchin’ his ear off,
talking to his elders like that! I don’t care what all kind of tattoos he got
on his neck, a good ear-pinchin’ will bring anybody down.
    Dr. Wilson stood
his ground. He stuck his chest out and spoke, “I’m trying to return your
wallet, young man. Why do you think I’m here getting the manager’s attention?”
    I guess the
young man must have been a little slow because it took him a minute to put two
and to together. Finally, he muttered, “You straight.”
    “You’re welcome.
God bless you,” Dr. Wilson added.
    The young man’s
face softened with a smirk. “Hmph. I sure need a blessing right now.”
    “All you have to
do is ask. He’s always listening,” Dr. Wilson offered in an encouraging tone.
    This time the
boy gave a genuine “thank you” and walked away, stuffing the wallet into his
back pocket—probably the same place it just fell out of.
    I had to commend
Dr. Wilson. “You sure handled that well.”
    He briefly set
his hand on my back as we turned toward the doors to leave. “These young men
today have so much pressure and anger built up toward the world. He probably
didn’t know how to process an act of kindness.”
    “That’s one way
of looking at it,” I agreed as I felt the adrenaline ebb out of my system. This
was way too much adventure for one night.
    Dr. Wilson
walked me back to my car and asked if I’d like to follow him to a restaurant
for supper. Even though we already had this planned out, I appreciated the way
he asked again. For all he knew, I might have wanted to go home. And I
did—except I was hungry by then.
    “I’ll be in a white
Range Rover,” he said.
    Chile, if I
hadn’t heard the name of that brand of car a million times! Son and his wife
like ta split up their home one time because he had to have himself a Range
Rover. Soon as he got it, that thing spent more time in the shop than on the
road. Served him right, though, buying that car before talking to his wife
about it.
    When I saw Dr.
Wilson’s SUV pull past me, I backed out my MiniCooper
a nd rounded out our caravan to what I call restaurant row. This was
probably the first citified area after Peasner. Always full of city folk trying
to escape downtown and country folk trying to get a taste of the big town.
    On a
weekend night , those restaurants
were always crowded. I just knew we’d have to wait half an hour before getting
a seat. But when we walked inside and approached the waitress booth at Bubba’s
Crab Shack, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Dr. Wilson had called
ahead to put us on the waiting list.
    “Your booth will
be ready in just a few minutes,” the short, spunky-haired host chirped.
    Moments later, I
was sitting across from Dr. Wilson in a small booth in one of the quieter
corners of this otherwise loud restaurant. And either Libby’s prayers were
working or I was completely checked out of this evening because I felt no
jitters whatsoever.
    We ate our
dinner in relative silence. There was plenty entertainment going on around us,
though. Birthday songs, somebody in a back room sound like they was doing
karaoke. A few quick yes-and-no questions. Dr. Wilson was really trying to