Chapter 50: Call Me Grandfather
Franklin Whitman glanced down at Tiny. "Some other day. He’s still little."
"Little? How old is he?"
Franklin Whitman wasn’t just loud; when he took calls outside about unimportant matters, he almost always used the speakerphone.
Hearing his great-grandfather’s familiar voice on the phone, Ryan Grant stood on his tiptoes, tilted his little head up, and shouted, "I’m three and a half!"
Gavin Grant was taken aback when he heard a child’s voice from the receiver. Then he said, "Oh, so he’s just a little tyke."
Franklin Whitman: "Hahaha, that’s right, just a little tyke. I gotta go. I’m taking him out to play. We can play chess next time."
After a few more pleasantries, Franklin Whitman hung up.
He took Ryan Grant to the zoo and the toy store.
As they were getting ready to go home, he looked at Tiny holding a large doll in one arm and a Transformer in the other, his little face adorned with frog-themed sunglasses. He was just so adorable.
He couldn’t resist taking a few more pictures and posting them on social media.
Franklin Whitman: A day with my grandson. [Image][Image][Image].....
Franklin Whitman, who rarely posted on social media, uploaded a full nine-photo grid all at once.
Feeling that wasn’t enough, Franklin Whitman waved Ryan Grant over.
"Come on, take a few pictures with Grandpa."
Ryan Grant was happy to oblige, obediently posing for photos with Franklin Whitman.
"You’re such a lovable little guy. I wish you were really my grandson."
Ryan Grant tilted his head, asking innocently, "But Grandpa, I am your real grandson."
Hearing this, Franklin Whitman chuckled. "That’s right. Forget the ’god-’ part, you’re the real deal."
They got in the car, and the driver headed for home.
On the way home, Franklin Whitman was posting on social media.
Back home, Caroline Whitman’s eyebrow twitched as she saw her social media feed dominated by photos of Ryan Grant.
There were photos of Ryan Grant from the front, the side, and the back.
Although the boy was wearing children’s sunglasses in the front-facing photos, a determined person could still figure something out if they looked closely.
She quickly called Franklin Whitman. "Dad, why did you post pictures of the child on social media?"
Franklin Whitman had a huge network on social media, including people connected to the Grant Family. If they recognized him, wouldn’t that just be asking for trouble?
"What’s wrong? I can’t take pictures?" Franklin Whitman’s eyes darted around as he asked hesitantly.
"It’s not that you can’t take them, but you can’t post them on social media! What if his parents find out? They’ll give me so much trouble."
Hearing that, Franklin Whitman asked, "What? Are his parents’ friends in the same circle as mine?"
Caroline Whitman: "..."
She rubbed her temples, a headache forming. Although Franklin Whitman hadn’t had much formal education and wasn’t very cultured, he was sharp and quick on the uptake.
"Alright, alright, I get it, I get it. I’ll delete them right now, okay?" Franklin Whitman said before she could even respond.
’If we’re in the same circle, maybe the kid’s parents have some business dealings with our company. It wouldn’t be good to embarrass my own daughter and make things difficult for her.’
After hanging up, Franklin Whitman opened his social media and found dozens of likes. He scrolled through and saw that Jonathan Grant had liked the most, having liked every single photo of Ryan Grant.
After he deleted them one by one, Jonathan Grant sent him a rare voice message.
Jonathan Grant: [Mr. Whitman, why’d you delete your post?]
Jonathan Grant: [By the way, when did you get a grandson? How come I’ve never heard you mention it before?]
Franklin Whitman’s phone was on speaker. As soon as Jonathan Grant’s voice came out, Ryan Grant’s radar went off, and he leaned his little face closer.
Franklin Whitman held down the voice message button: [Just got a new little grandson. Cute, isn’t he? Come on, Ryan, say hello.]
He looked at Ryan Grant leaning in, moved the phone to his mouth, and motioned for him to say something.
Ryan Grant got the hint and called out sweetly: [Hello, Grandpa.]
Jonathan Grant: [Hey, hey, hello, my good grandson, hello! Ryan, is your name Ryan? What’s your full name?]
Franklin Whitman: [His parents want to protect his privacy, so they said not to post anything. Let’s drop it.]
Jonathan Grant: [So mysterious, huh? Why don’t you bring him out for dinner tonight? I think the little guy is really charming.]
Franklin Whitman: [Haha, we’ll see. The kid is just staying with us for a few days.]
The next second, a video call came in from Jonathan Grant.
Franklin Whitman saw it but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned to look at Tiny.
"See? You say ’Hello, Grandpa’ one time, and the old guy immediately video calls. He must be desperate for a grandson. He probably wants to see what you look like, too."
Ryan Grant stared at the name "Jonathan Grant" on the screen and asked, puzzled, "Then why don’t you answer, Grandpa? I want to see what Grandpa looks like, too."
Franklin Whitman pressed the decline button with his thumb and chuckled. "Can’t do that. Your godmother said I can’t reveal your private information."
He had that much sense, at least. He was determined not to cause trouble for his daughter.
Back at the old house.
"Mom... Godmom, I’m back."
The first thing Ryan Grant did after getting out of the car was to rush inside and find his mother.
It was just a little awkward calling her "Godmom."
Caroline Whitman was sitting on the sofa, petting a cat. She whipped her head around at the word "Godmom." ’This kid really knows how to play along,’ she had to admit.
As soon as Ryan Grant came in, he rushed over to Caroline Whitman. "Grandpa bought me lots of stuff."
He held up the toys in his hands, showing them off one by one with a wide grin.
"You didn’t get into any trouble today, did you?" Caroline Whitman asked, ruffling the little guy’s hair.
"I was a good boy, I didn’t cause any trouble at all." Ryan Grant puffed up his little cheeks one second, then his mood shifted instantly. Holding up the Gundam model, he giggled and said, "Godmom, will you build the Gundam with me?"
"Sure."
The adult and child sat in the living room, harmoniously assembling the Gundam model.
When Franklin Whitman saw this scene, he suddenly said to his wife, "You know, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were a real mother and son. It’d be great if our daughter really had a child like him."
Yolanda Young looked over. To be honest, the scene was surprisingly harmonious.
She never expected that her daughter, who couldn’t stand bratty kids, would actually take a child as her godson.
She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but watching the two of them interact, she felt more and more that Ryan Grant’s little face bore some resemblance to her own daughter.
"Why do I feel like that little guy looks a bit like our daughter?" Yolanda Young voiced her thoughts.
"Really? I don’t see it." Franklin Whitman’s eyes went wide as he stared hard. "One face is big, the other is small. How are they alike?"
"...There’s no talking to you."
...
On Monday, Ryan Grant was sent to his program for classes as usual.
Except it was no longer Miss King who dropped him off and picked him up, but Yolanda Young, who did it personally.
She said she had nothing better to do anyway.
Seeing how much her parents adored the child, Caroline Whitman didn’t know whether to be happy or worried.
On Tuesday, she received a notice from the business department that she needed to go to Floria for a business trip for a few days.
When she explained the situation to Ryan Grant that evening, he, for the first time ever, didn’t beg to go with her.
Instead, he said, "Mommy, I’m a big boy now. I’m not a little kid who cries for his mommy and daddy every day anymore."