Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Finn
For the last couple of weeks, I’ve visited Charlie at her store almost every day, dropping off a new drink and relishing the opportunity to find the right coffee for her. Our Friday night walks have continued as well, becoming a favorite part of our weekly routines and giving us both something to look forward to at the end of a long week.
The last few walks have lasted deep into the early hours of the next morning. On our most recent evening stroll, there was an extra chill in the air, courtesy of a late October temperature dip. I made a point to stop and lend her my scarf. Charlie hasn’t yet returned the gloves that I lent her the previous week, so I may never see that scarf again. But knowing that she is holding on to them gives me a deep sense of satisfaction.
Night after night, we continue exchanging texts, asking each other the most random questions that come to mind, which has only deepened the bond that we’ve slowly been developing. Though it’s barely been a month since we first met, I feel like I’ve known this woman for years.
With her, there’s a sense of familiarity.
It doesn’t feel like I’m getting to know her; it feels like I’m reconnecting with someone I’ve always known. Every word we share draws me closer and closer to the conclusion that we must have known each other in another life.
After a long day of work at Dark Side Brews, I’ve closed the shop early on this Saturday afternoon of Halloween weekend. I’ll be spending tomorrow evening with Charlie and Vera, but today I’m scheduled for my biweekly grandson duties. Since moving back to Oregon, I’ve been visiting my grandpa a couple of times a month at his retirement home.
When I walk outside to my car, I glance down Main Street to see my pretty brunette setting out a sign in front of A New Leaf. Charlie looks deep in thought, with a cute scowl on her face. She glances up as if she senses me, so I smile and give her a quick wave. Her scowl deepens until she squints, recognizing that it’s me who waved, rather than some weirdo. Relief washes over her, and a radiant smile overtakes her face.
That smile alone is enough to make my good day great.
I hop in the car and hit the road. The drive to my grandpa’s retirement home takes me out of Hemlock on scenic winding roads through tall pine trees, shrouded by the calming and gloomy Oregon skies. After forty minutes, I arrive and park. As I walk into the grand entrance of the facility, I stop at the front desk to sign in and to say a quick hello to the receptionist.
“Art is in rare form today,” the older blonde woman casually mentions.
“I mean, is he ever not in rare form? He didn’t get written up again, did he?” I inquire.
“No, nothing that bad. Just the usual hustling of those damn mini liquor bottles. He’s using them to bribe other residents, to bet with during the evening card games, all sorts of things . . . it never ends!” She shakes her head, exasperated. “I don't know where in the world he gets them from.”
I freeze and try as hard as possible to not act suspicious. I have enough mini liquor bottles lining my coat pockets to open a small convenience store. I remind myself to walk extra carefully so that none of the bottles clank together.
Fuck. Does this mean I’m his accomplice?
I give her a curt nod and quickly say, “Well, let me know if you get any leads. Sorry he’s being a hassle.”
She waves me off. “No worries, Finn. Enjoy your time. Your grandpa should be out in the enclosed patio area.”
The facility is nicer than my home: the main foyer has tall ceilings adorned with wood beams, a stone fireplace, huge windows that allow natural light to shine through, and cushiony furniture. The space epitomizes comfort, giving the feel of a real home rather than a sterile retirement facility.
I make my way out to the patio, which overlooks a crystal-blue lake surrounded by a forest of pine trees. The view is so spectacular that it could be easily mistaken for a painting.
But there seems to be another spectacular view from the patio—the scene unfolding in front of me.
My grandpa is seated at a fire pit, surrounded by three older women. The women are oohing and ahhing at one of my grandpa Arty’s wild stories from back in the day. They must be enjoying the tale, as all three women break out into giggles simultaneously and one boldly pats her hand on Arty’s upper thigh.
My grandpa has an endless supply of those old stories. Some I like. Some I wish I could delete from my memory.
Noticing me standing in the entryway, Arty looks up and stops. “Finn! How are you, son?”
The three women snap their heads around, shooting lethal stares in my direction.
This is fun. I didn’t know that grandpa Arty and I would have an audience today.
“Hey, Grandpa. Sorry to interrupt. Is this a bad time?” I wring my hands together, uncomfortable and feeling as though I’m intruding.
He scoffs, waving me off. “Not at all. Pull up a chair!”
Pulling over an unoccupied chair from the adjacent fire pit, I’m unsure where to sit, since the ladies are fawning over my grandpa and do not seem eager to share. The smell of powdery, floral perfume invades my senses, making me sneeze uncontrollably.
“Bless you, son. Allergies again? Betty, do you mind scooting over? I’d like my boy to sit next to me.” Arty flashes a wide smile.
Betty licks her cherry red lips and touches his knee before making room for me, while the other two women are twirling their hair and making heart eyes at my grandpa.
What the actual fuck did I walk into? Mom will have a field day when we have our regular debrief call.
Attempting to navigate this uncomfortable situation as best I can, I clear my throat. “So, Grandpa, care to introduce me to . . . the team?”
Arty slaps his knees with both hands. “Of course! How rude of me. This is Betty to your left, and Edith, and Florence. They are my best friends here.” He winks.
He fucking winks.
I wish he hadn’t emphasized the word “best”. My thoughts are going in fifty different directions, trying to deduce what he might be implying.
Slowly, I take in all three women. “Nice to meet you all, I’m Finn.”
They say hello in unison, and then they all resume their previous conversation. I nod back, still trying to process what’s really happening here.
First of all, good for Arty for putting himself out there. Secondly, he could be more subtle about it. His constant eyebrow waggles, seductive winks, and flirtatious touching of the three women make me feel like I’m interrupting a private moment.
“Did you hear about the new girl, Angie? She just moved in down the hall from Marsha. I heard she murdered her last husband,” Florence says. The other two women gasp, shaking their heads in disbelief.
“I believe it.” Edith tsks. “When do you think Marsha will finally kick the bucket? I’ve been wanting her room for months!”
I’m so confused.
Betty speaks up. “Speaking of rooms, I heard that Agatha was caught coming out of Clarence’s room late last night? She really gets around. Wait until Chester finds out.”
Okay, wait, who the hell is Chester?
“Who is Chester?” I blurt out, trying to follow the conversation. I immediately regret my question.
Florence answers in rapid fire. “Chester is Agatha’s second husband. She cheated on her previous husband, Fred, with Chester. Serves Fred right though, because Fred was caught sleeping with the nanny forty years ago. Agatha said she would never cheat on Chester, but, by the sounds of it, it seems like Agatha and Clarence were up to something yesterday.” She pauses to take a breath. “Who knows, maybe they also decided to open up their relationship?”
I’m doing mental gymnastics, trying to keep track of all the people and relationships that the ladies have shared with me. I’m about as lost as Frank in a new room. My eyes are so wide that I forget how to blink. Should I really be listening to this right now? Next time, instead of showing up unannounced, I’ll plan on giving Arty a quick call before I stop over. This is a lot to process, and I’m not even sure where to begin.
“Don’t stare, son, it’s not polite,” Grandpa murmurs in my ear.
I shake off my stare and accept my fate. I’m stuck listening to retirement home gossip for the next couple of hours. Shrugging off my jacket, I finally relax a bit into the chair.
Grandpa notices that I’m settling in and places his hand on my knee. “I’m really glad you’re back, Finn. It’s nice to see you around here more. You seem lighter. Happier.”
A soft smile touches my lips. “Me too, Grandpa. It’s good to be back.”
As Arty and his ladies drone on about who’s having sex with whom, whether or not the resident of room thirty-two is a convicted murderer, and placing bets on who will kick the bucket next, I sit back and let my mind drift off to Charlie.
I can’t stop thinking about our intertwined pinkies and how she didn’t pull away. A flicker of hope and excitement ignites in my chest at the thought of Charlie slowly opening up to me.
I really, really like her.
By the time I get home, it’s so late that the street lights have come on. The second I enter the front door, Frank’s batlike hearing detects my arrival, and he comes wiggling at me like he hasn’t seen me in years. More like he hasn’t smelled me in years. Technically, he hasn’t seen me at all.
“Hey, bud! Did you look after the house? Scare off any intruders with your charm?” I give him a good head scratch and his nub of a tail starts wagging at a mile a minute. I love this damn dog.
I let Frank outside and grab my phone from my back pocket. Leaning my hip against the kitchen counter, I fire off a quick text to Charlie. Waving at her from afar isn’t enough to satisfy my Charlie-fix for the day.
6 p.m. tomorrow, Thorne. I’ll text you my address.
A message dings back almost immediately, and I smile.
Charlie
If I had an ounce of the confidence you do, I would be unstoppable.
Is that a compliment?
Charlie
No.
That came out rude. Actually, I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not. Maybe it is? You can take it as one. That’s fine.
I start to laugh. The woman comes in hot but cools off quickly.
I’m taking it as a compliment. So, thank you. That was so nice of you to say about me. Is this where I compliment you back?
Charlie
Please don’t.
You sure?
Charlie
Positive.
You’re a woman of many words.
Charlie
Thank you.
Most people wouldn’t take that as a compliment.
Charlie
Yes, I know. But I took it as one.
I run my fingers through my hair and let out a soft laugh to myself. After the day I’ve had, this is the perfect way to end it. This lighthearted, easy, back-and-forth banter with Charlie somehow fills a part of me I didn’t know was missing.
You’re a strange one. But I like it.
A lot.
Also, don’t forget a costume.
Charlie
I will most definitely forget a costume.
. . .
Charlie
Wait. Not like that!
I can get on board with no costume.
In fact, I encourage no costume. *Winky face*
Charlie
That is NOT what I meant.
You brought it up. I was just being a good friend and encouraging your great idea.
Charlie
*Rolling eye emoji*
Grinning down at my phone like a love-struck fool, I finally pull my attention away from our conversation. Frank comes speeding inside when I whistle out into the dark backyard. The dog is more than ready for our nightly routine of lounging on the couch and listening to TV.
Grabbing my phone, I settle onto my couch with Frank snuggled next to me. Opening the notes app on my phone, I pick from a random list of questions I’ve saved to ask Charlie—readying myself for another night of off-the-wall questions.
What’s something you think is true that no one else agrees with you on?
Charlie
Great question. How much time do you have? Because I have a list.
I’ve got all night.