Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
LUKE
I haven’t thought about Noah’s little sister at all in the past decade. After reacquainting myself with her, I can see why that’s the case. Not only is she quirky, but she’s not super attractive. When she opened the front door, she looked like my great aunt Helen after she’d been on a bender for a week.
My mom’s aunt has a penchant for making bathtub gin—and not to sell on the black market, either. She’s too cheap to buy her own hooch, so she dug out an old family recipe that’s been handed down since Prohibition. Being that she only has one bathroom, that means she only bathes after she’s drained the tub for her martinis.
After Lorelai goes upstairs, I open the refrigerator door to check out the contents. It’s full of takeout containers and little else. After some searching, I locate a stick of butter, four eggs that are stamped with an acceptable freshness date, and some cheddar cheese that looks like it’s in decent enough shape. In the pantry, I grab olive oil, an onion, and a shaker of Herbs de Provence.
There’s an empty skillet on the stove so I make quick work of heating up some oil and butter. I chop the onions and add them. As they crackle and pop, I crack the eggs into a bowl, and add a tablespoon of water, some salt, pepper, and the herbs. I whip everything into a froth before pouring the mixture over the onions. Then I finish making the fresh pot of coffee that Lorelai started.
Looking at the clock, I discover I’ll have plenty of time to eat before visiting hours start at the hospital. I told my mom I’d meet her there at ten, which is probably why Noah thought I was arriving in Elk Lake at that time.
After checking to make sure the eggs are nearly done, I sprinkle on some shredded cheese before turning off the burner and flipping the omelet over on itself to finish cooking. Then I walk out of the room to call for Lorelai. Turning the corner, I practically run into her. At least I think it’s her. She looks nothing like she did the last time I saw her.
“Lorelai?” Her hair is out of its confines and the auburn waves hang long and shiny down her back. She’s also changed out of her granny gown and put on some slim cut jeans with an oversized men’s flannel shirt. She looks adorable.
“Were you expecting someone else?” She’s clearly annoyed and I guess I can see why after how I behaved earlier.
“No, nope. No one else,” I say. “You just look very different than you did.”
She does not take this as a compliment. “Well, if you’d come at ten like you were supposed to, you would have never seen me like that.” Pushing past me, she walks into the kitchen and begrudgingly adds, “It smells great in here.”
“I made an omelet.”
Walking across the room, she pulls out a frozen pastry from the package she put on the counter earlier, and announces, “That should go nicely with my Toaster Strudel.” Ignoring my look of distaste, she adds, “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I guess I’ll just have to suffer,” I tell her. It will be a dark day when I put any preservative-laden, mass-produced baked good into my mouth.
I pull two plates down from the cabinet. After dishing up the omelets, I refill my mug with a fresh cup of coffee and offer to do the same for Lorelai. She shakes her head. “I’d better stop while I’m ahead. I’m already more caffeinated than I usually am.”
She sits down at the table on the chair across from mine. Her demeanor seems to thaw after I serve her breakfast. “Do you eat like this every day?”
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s just eggs.”
“It’s an omelet ,” she says in awe. Then she picks up her fork and digs in. The groan of pleasure she releases feels like a punch to the gut. Noah’s little sister should not look like she does, and she certainly shouldn’t be making sounds like that. “So good …”
I suddenly have no appetite for my own food, so I sit and watch her enjoy hers. She’s finished in seconds. “Do you want some more?”
Her eyes light up. “ Is there more? I would love that!” I pick up her plate and slide mine in front of her. Realization hits, and she says, “I can’t eat your breakfast.”
“Go ahead,” I assure her. “You’re enjoying it more than I ever could.” But as I say this, my stomach grumbles loudly.
A delightful pink blush washes over Lorelai’s cheeks as she pushes my breakfast back in front of me. “You, eat. But if you want to, I’ll let you make me breakfast tomorrow.”
I’m not sure why that sounds like a seductive offer, but it does. “I’ll stop at the store on the way home from the hospital and get supplies.”
“Or you can tell me what to get and I’ll pick it up. It’s my day off and I’ve got some free time.”
I chew the bite I just put into my mouth before swallowing. “The least I can do is contribute groceries.” As an afterthought, I add, “I’d be happy to pay you for letting me stay here, as well.”
She waves her hand in front of her. “Nonsense. You’re like family. I mean, you and Noah are like brothers. ”
“Which would make you, what, my sister?” I tease.
Her expression shifts from light and carefree to something a bit darker. “I guess so.”
“Tell me about life in Elk Lake,” I say. I know Noah said Lorelai just broke up with her boyfriend, but other than that and learning that she works at the Elk Lake Lodge, I don’t know anything else about her.
She shrugs. “It’s pretty much the same as it’s always been. Busy in the summer with the tourist trade, slower in the winter. Although, that’s changing now that the lodge has opened.” She explains, “Heath and Trina have added a lot of fun attractions. We have a great tobogganing hill, and there’s snowmobiling, and cross-country skiing …”
“It sounds like you enjoy working there.” Her blue eyes sparkle enchantingly. How did I ever think she was plain?
“I do! I love my boss, and I really like meeting all the new people who come there to stay.”
“Do you ever think of opening your own gift shop?” I ask her.
I’m not sure why but my question seems to annoy her. “I don’t need to open my own shop to be happy.”
I feel like I might’ve ruined our brief truce. “Good for you,” I tell her. “I’ve found that owning my own restaurant has been harder than I thought it would be. I’m so busy doing all the stuff to keep everything going, I’m not in the kitchen as much as I’d like.”
“You can cook for me anytime you want.” Standing up, she walks across the room and opens a drawer. Then she pulls out a ring of keys. Bringing them over, she puts them on the counter. “There’s one for the dead bolt and one for the doorknob. Feel free to come and go as you please.”
“Thank you, Lorelai. I appreciate your hospitality.”
She stares at me for a long minute before finally opening her mouth. “Welcome home, Luke. It’s nice to have you back.” She walks out of the kitchen without saying another word.
Her welcoming me home feels good; it feels right. Even though Elk Lake hasn’t felt like it in the last several years, it is my home. All my best memories are from here.
When I finished high school, I went to the University of Wisconsin on a football scholarship. I majored in business. While there were conversations about what I would do with my degree, my parents didn’t expect me to come back to Elk Lake.
After graduation, I worked in Chicago for a year, but I didn’t love my job. Part of me thought fulfillment might come if I stuck it out, but a bigger part of me wanted to be excited about my career right away.
During that year, I worked sixty- and seventy-hour weeks, so I ate out a lot. That was when I learned to love food that was different from what I’d grown up with. I was always a fan of the stuff my dad made, but I learned to enjoy more high-end and exotic fare, and I was hooked.
One night I was invited to dine out with the president of my company. I was one of fifteen guests, so I wasn’t responsible for holding up much of the conversation. As a result, I spent a lot of that meal looking around the restaurant. I began noticing the differences between my dad’s diner and fine dining. That was the night I started to fantasize about going to culinary school.
For the next month I ate at every nice restaurant I could find, whether I could afford to or not. I decided that I was young enough that if I didn’t like culinary school, I could always go back to finance. But if I did like it then I would be giving myself a fabulous opportunity. An opportunity to love my career.
My parents weren’t quite sure how to react to the news that I was quitting my job and going back to school. They always wanted more for me than to be chained to a restaurant like they’d been. They wanted me to have normal hours and holidays that weren’t filled with other people’s celebrations while mine were put on hold. But then my dad got it into his head that I would come home and work with him after graduation, and he was all in.
I didn’t tell him that I wanted to own my own place in the city. I figured I’d let him enjoy the fantasy of what he envisioned. I just didn’t realize that was the only outcome he was going to be okay with. As a result, we’ve lost a lot of years together. Even though I can’t get that time back, I can certainly work toward not losing any more.