Grandpa’s eyes narrowed, measuring the boy.
“I suppose you are ready for this story,” he mused.
“Unhappy with my German grade, my parents walked over to Ms. Drueck’s house. There she sat on the front porch, drinking a martini. They were not invited to sit down. ‘This must be about the grade,’ she remarked. Just as my father cleared his throat, Ms. Drueck’s hand shot up and stopped him short.”
Grandpa paused to take another sip. “What do you think about that?”
His grandson shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, yet nothing more came out.