“Wheat. Why would they put wheat on the table? Too cheap for flowers, probably.”

“Charles, are you even listening?”

Snapped out of his mental meanderings, Charles could only nod sheepishly and hope he hadn’t missed anything important. Her pursed lips and narrowing eyes hinted he had. Thankfully the Broughs were along for the late afternoon lunch or he would have gotten an earful.

The waiter came, prattling on about organic this and seaweed that.

Charles was gone again, “You know, it’s actually kind of lovely, the wheat. There’s little bits to it, and the hairs, all golden in the sunlight. Genius, sheer genius to put it out like that. It’s subtlety, that’s what it is. I ought…”

Her voice came stern and sharp, “Charles.”

“Wheat!” he blurted, causing Darren to nearly do a spit take with his water. “I mean what”

“Ready to order?” she asked on behalf the waiter, smirking behind his goatee.

“Um, black bean burger, please. Lots of ketchup. I like to pretend.”

“We know,” his wife shot back.