Chapter 12
WINNIE
“Iwish this was Fitz’s eyeball,” I mutter, stabbing one of the poached eggs I’m cooking.
Then I wince. I have a Band-Aid over the cut on my finger from the thorn.
Bad omen? No. My stalker cares about me. However, even the note from my stalker’s not enough to make me feel better.
I don’t need Fitz. I have a man who appreciates me for me.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about Fitz while I curled up last night on the couch that was way less comfortable than my bed, especially since I couldn’t have any wine since my mom likes her wine in the evening, and between her and Gran, they drank up the bottle.
It’s infuriating how soft and kind and caring he was with Kathy—not because he knew her and cared about her, just simply because she existed.
“This is a good thing,” I try to remind myself so I don’t start crying into the butter melting in the double boiler. “He’s going to fall in love with her.”
Scratch that—Fitz has already fallen in love with her, and they’re going to have a whirlwind romance, and then he’s going to sweep her off her feet and marry her Cinderella style, with her happy ending. It’s going to be like Knox all over again.
“Making your famous hollandaise sauce?” My dad comes in from outside in nothing but his tighty-whities with a newspaper tucked under one arm and cup of coffee in his hand.
“Dad, you cannot stand outside half naked.”
“This is how I spend my mornings, Winn. I’m not changing just because this is the West Coast. It gets things moving—a little fresh air on your—”
“Mark, go put on some clothes.” My mother bustles in. “Carolina is here.”
“Carolina? Shoot, she’s family.” He sits down at the table.
“I brought French toast casserole and more lemons.” Carolina greets us. “Um, also? Loony Laura is messaging me. She wants me to plan her freaking engagement party.”
“How many people does she want to come?”
“It’s an ever-dwindling list. Apparently, she’s not speaking to her grandparents.” Carolina grimaces and starts slicing lemons for the hollandaise.
She’s juicing them as yawning Kathy, ensconced in a gauzy robe, floats down the staircase.
She’ll look so good with Fitz. The truth hits me in the chest.
Meanwhile, I’m in a stained, ripped T-shirt spattered with lemon pulp and grease as I fry the Canadian bacon for the eggs Benedict Kathy begged for yesterday.
“Did your Fitz come back last night?” she asks me, excited, as my mom fusses over her beautiful daughter.
“No,” I snap, furiously stirring the hollandaise.
“Oh. Carolina and I were hoping that’s why you wanted to stay late.”
“No. Fitz can go drown in the ocean.”
“You should have given him your number so he can ask you out.”
“He didn’t ask,” I snap.
“Just ask him out,” Carolina begs. “For the love of—”
“I’m not asking him out!”
“I’m dealing with Loony Laura so that you can get a man!” Carolina slaps down a lemon threateningly.
“What—no, that wasn’t the—”
“You have a boy you like?” Gran hollers, speed walking into the room.
“He’s a billionaire,” Kathy tells them happily.
“I’m not asking him out.”
“Of all the— I thought I taught you better than that,” Gran rails. “I need new yarn. These knitting ladies I got caught up with are so uppity with their fancy yarns. I’m done with the knitting club, swear to Jimmy Buffett. I’m going to join a motorcycle gang.”
Sighing, I offer, “There’s money in my purse, Gran. Go buy yarn.”
“You said I couldn’t go in your purse,” Dad complains.
“You don’t need money for anything.” Mom swats him with a towel.
“We’d all have all the money we could spend if Winnie here would go after this rich man,” Gran reminds them.
“Never. He’s a terrible person, and I don’t like him.”
“Let me see a picture of him.”
“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Kathy giggles as she shows our parents the photo. “They were talking all night at the ball.”
“It was a cocktail hour. No one was in a ball gown.”
“Honestly,” my mom tsks. “You’re too hard on men, Winifred.”
“My Winnie has standards.” My dad beams. “Don’t let some man-child walk all over you.”
Mom shakes her head. “It’s like I’m finding men for you girls. Carolina, would you like a man too?”
“Yes, please!”
“It’s a low-quality man,” I warn.
“Your neighbor Mrs. Miller’s son is not low-quality.”
“Mom, no. And stop talking to my neighbors. This is Seattle, not Minnesota. You can’t just be friendly with people here. Haven’t you heard of the Seattle Freeze?”
“You’ve lived here for years. You should have them over for dinner. Don’t be antisocial.”
“How old’s his mom? He could inherit the house,” Carolina reminds me. “And with these real estate prices…”
“Who cares when there’s a billionaire who wants to get in Winnie’s pants,” Gran cries.
“He doesn’t want to get in my pants. He’s just controlling.”
“Yummy.” Kathy giggles.
“He stole my café out from under me.”
“He did what?” Gran sucks in a breath. “You let me at him.”
“No, Gran, leave him alone.”
“He’s just doing that because he likes you, Winnie.” My mom fusses with my shirt.
“Mom—”
“That’s how boys show they like girls.”
“By stealing their livelihoods?” Gran thunders. “You built that business from nothing.”
“She had a lot of money saved up, not to mention industry contacts in the development world,” Carolina mutters. “‘Nothing’ is a bit of a misnomer…”
“She worked hard, and some man is going to come by and steal my granddaughter’s hard work? I don’t think so. Fuck him.”
“See?” I point to Gran. “Thank you. Exactly. I’m not dating Fitz or asking him out.”
My mom sighs as she resets the table I already set. “I’ll never be a grandmother.”
“You girls need to hurry up. Your mom doesn’t have the balls it takes to be a grandmother. You need me around to show those kids what’s what. Now, point me in his direction. No one messes with my granddaughters.”