"I hope the place is doing okay. I would've expected at least a few more people at dinner."
"It's probably too early."
"Yeah, I guess it is," I say with a laugh. "My parents are the only people I know who eat this early."
Charlie wanders over to our table. "Welcome to The Maple Farm Inn. Can I start you off with a drink?"
We all laugh.
"I'll just have water," I say.
"You sure you don't want wine?" Aiden asks. "We could split a bottle."
"Water is fine," I say, already feeling the two drinks I had at the bar.
"I'll have the same," Aiden tells Charlie.
"Coming right up." He turns to leave, then turns back. "Oh, our special tonight is pork roast with a maple syrup glaze, mashed sweet potatoes, and buttermilk rolls with maple syrup butter."
"I'm sensing a theme," Aiden jokes.
"I'll have the special," I tell Charlie.
"And for you?" he asks Aiden.
"I'd like to look at a menu."
"Oh, sorry, but the special is all we're serving tonight."
Aiden smiles. "Then the special it is."
Charlie walks back to the kitchen.
When he's gone, we both laugh.
"It's usually not the special when it's the only thing on the menu," I say.
"It's fine. I'd planned to get it anyway."
My phone dings and I see a text from Macie.
Made it home! Sorry I missed our weekend.
We'll try again later, I text back. Glad you made it home safe!
Are you still there or did you leave?
I look over at Aiden. "Sorry. I don't usually text during dinner but it's my friend. The one who was supposed to meet me here."
"Go ahead. I'm used to it."
I'm not sure if he's referring to his friends or his girlfriend. Either way, he seems a little annoyed. I don't like it either when people text during dinner so I shouldn't be doing it.
Still here, I quickly text back. Can't talk now. At dinner.
I set my phone down. "She made it home okay."
"Where's home?"
"Kansas. She still lives in Manhattan. She teaches third grade at the school we both went to growing up."
"Does she have kids of her own?"
"No, she's single like me. She tried online dating but she's taking a break from it."
My phone dings again. Who are you having dinner with?
Macie knows if I was eating alone I wouldn't tell her I couldn't talk.
"Sorry," I say to Aiden. "I just need to tell her I can't talk now."
He nods.
With someone I met here, I text. I'll call you tomorrow and tell you all about it.
I put my phone down and slide it over so I won't be tempted to look at it. It dings again but I ignore it.
"I really don't mind if you check it," Aiden says. "Like I said, I'm used to it."
"You mean with your girlfriend?"
"Everyone, really. It's become the norm. People always checking their phones. I understand the need to check it. I just don't like doing it during dinner. I like having a meal with someone without having the phone interrupt."
"My parents make my brothers and me pay a dollar fine for every time we check our phones during dinner."
"Have you ever had to pay it?"
"I'm embarrassed to admit this but last year at Thanksgiving I got a ten dollar fine."
Aiden chuckles. "What was so important?"
"Guy problems. It seems silly now but at the time it seemed important. We were going through a breakup and he kept texting me."
"You broke up on Thanksgiving?"
"It happened over the course of several days. We finally ended it the Sunday after Thanksgiving." I look down, shaking my head. "I need to stop talking about my exes. It seems to keep coming up. Let's talk about something else."
Aiden tells me more about his family. His mom's a pediatrician and his dad's a biomedical engineer. His older brother has a PhD and runs a research lab at a large pharmaceutical company.
"Your family is really smart," I say.
Aiden nods. "We tend to be high achievers. My dad wouldn't accept anything less."
Charlie shows up with our waters. "Your food should be ready soon."
"Thanks," Aiden says, taking a drink of his water.
"What do you mean by that?" I ask Aiden as Charlie leaves.
"Mean by what?"
"About your dad not accepting anything less? Less than what?"
"Less than perfect," he says with a quick laugh. "Good isn't good enough. He expects me to be exceptional. Reach my highest potential."
"It sounds like you've done that."
"Not even close. He was hoping by now I'd have my own investment firm."
"Is that what you want?"
"Maybe someday," he says, but he doesn't sound excited about it.
"What do you really want?" I ask, staring at him from across the table. "If your dad didn't care and you could do anything."
"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."
"I bet you have. You just don't want to tell anyone."
"Why wouldn't I tell anyone?"
"Because they wouldn't approve?" I say, taking a guess.
He pauses to think. "That might be somewhat true."
"So what is it? What would you do?"
"It's too late now but if they hadn't sold it, I would've taken over my grandparents' inn."
"The one in Maine."
"Yes. I loved that place. It felt like home to me, even more than the home I grew up in."
"Why is that?" I ask, feeling saddened by his comment.
He shrugs. "We had a condo in the city. Constant street noise. Sirens going off. It didn't feel like home."
"You're talking about when you lived in New York?"
"New York and Boston both. My parents worked a lot so they were never home and they didn't want my brother and me going outside to play on the streets so we spent most of our time indoors. Going to Maine was the only time we could really be kids, although my brother still stayed inside most of the time, reading or watching TV. He wasn't much of an outdoor kid. I was the complete opposite. I'd be gone all day, climbing trees, collecting rocks on the shore, hanging out on the docks."
"Why did your grandparents sell the inn?"
"They had to. They were getting too old to take care of
