Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
LUKE
Jim and I work in tandem like we’ve been doing this for years. He forms all the hamburger patties before sprinkling them with Worcestershire and steak sauce. I dust them with salt and garlic powder before putting them back in the refrigerator until we need them. Jim puts down the fry basket and I instinctually know when to lift it—which is never when the timer says it should be.
We hardly speak for the first two hours of service. We just move on automatic pilot. When things finally slow down, I tell him, “You need to get out of here and open your own place, Jim. You’re too good to work for someone else.”
He snort-laughs, “Son, I’m sixty-five years old. I have no desire to take on all the work needed to hang my own shingle.”
“You should have done it years ago then. Why didn’t you?”
He busies himself breaking apart wedges of iceberg lettuce. “I’m happy working for your dad. We don’t all want to be the boss.”
“What else do you have?” I belatedly realize my question might sound like I’m judging him, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care .
“Luckily, my folks are both still around. I’ve got my garden and my dog.”
“Did you ever want to get married?” I don’t recall him ever being in a relationship, let alone a marriage.
Instead of answering, he tells me, “Get more onions on the grill. We’re going to need them soon.”
As I turn toward the island to start slicing, I glance out the opening between the kitchen and the dining room. That’s when I make eye contact with Lorelai. By the number of empty martini glasses on her table, it looks like she and her friend are having a contest.
Lorelai’s complexion turns pink, and I don’t know if that’s due to all the cocktails or her seeing me. I quickly avert my gaze and focus on getting the onions ready to sauté.
It’s strange seeing my friend’s sister after so many years. She’s a grown woman now and nothing like the awkward girl I remember. When I went home this afternoon and saw her napping on her bed, I couldn’t help myself from stopping and staring at her for a minute.
I remember people from my past at the age where they made the biggest impact on me. For instance, whenever I think about my grandparents, I remember them from when I was little. I knew them for years after that, but in my mind’s eye, they are forever middle-aged.
Lorelai will always be in her early teens to me, and believe me when I say, that was a dicey stretch. She was constantly working on a new craft project that usually entailed yarn, or paint. Although there were also a lot of sequins there for a couple of years. I smile when an image of that pink and silver beret she bedazzled pops into my head. When the light hit it, it was positively blinding.
Looking at her across Pop’s dining room, wearing a soft pink sweater and drinking martinis, really messes with how I’ve always thought about her—as an adolescent girl .
Turning around, I put the onions on the grill and get busy seasoning them. I’ve tossed them several times when the hostess from earlier today comes running into the kitchen. “Some lady just slipped and fell on her butt,” she blurts out. “She says she’s okay, but she sounds kind of drunk. What should I do?”
I untie my apron and put it on the counter. “I’ll go check on her, Jim.” Following the girl out to the dining room, I find none other than Lorelai sitting on the floor by the front door. She’s laughing like she just heard the best joke ever. What she’s not doing is moving, and people are starting to step around her.
I extend a hand as I approach her. “How about some help up?”
She tips her head back and nearly shouts, “Come on down and join me!”
“I think you’re drunk, Lorelai,” I tell her, realizing what a cute drunk she is.
“I’m just happy.”
She makes no move to take my hand, so I bend down and slide my arms under her before lifting her. She’s dead weight. “Where’s your friend?” I ask.
She eventually steadies on her feet. “Gone. She has work tomorrow. I stayed in case ... you know …”
“You wanted to drink more?” I guess.
Her eyes narrow like she can’t remember what she was going to say. “Absolutely not. I don’t drink.” Uh-huh.
“You can’t drive like this,” I tell her.
Pushing away from me, she says, “Of course I’m not going to drive like this. I called an Uber.”
“We have Uber in Elk Lake?” For some reason, I’m surprised this little town has progressed that far.
“Psh, yeah.” She sways slightly on her feet, so I take her by the elbow and lead her to the counter. Sitting her down on a round stool, I tell her, “You can wait here.”
“I’m supposed to be outside,” she says.
“That’s not how Uber works. They text you when they arrive. ”
Her head lulls to the side. “It’s not really Uber. It’s just Kenny James driving people around town when they need a lift. He still has a flip phone, so he doesn’t text.”
That sounds more like Elk Lake. “I see. Well, then, why don’t you call Kenny and tell him you have a ride. I’ll take you home.”
“But you’re working!”
I hold up one finger to her before going back into the kitchen. “Jim, I’ll be back in thirty. Noah’s little sister tied one on and she needs a ride home.”
I’m only gone for a minute or two, but by the time I get back to Lorelai, she’s practically lying on the counter. Once again, I lift her like a rag doll. “Let’s go, princess.” I shuffle her out the front door toward my car that’s parked a couple of buildings away.
After clicking the unlock button, I lean her against the back door while opening the passenger side for her. Then I help her inside. Getting behind the wheel, I can’t help but think how embarrassed she’s going to be tomorrow. We make the short drive in silence except for the occasional soft snores that come from the seat next to me.
When I get to Lorelai’s house, I gently wake her. “Wake up sleepyhead.”
Her eyes pop open and she looks at me with great concentration. “Did we just go to prom?”
Oh, boy, she’s out of it. “We’re coming home from Pop’s,” I tell her.
“Did we go there after prom?” She’s so insistent on this prom thing, I realize the poor girl probably spent more time fantasizing about me than I knew.
“No prom,” I tell her again. “You had one too many and you’re drunk.”
She sits up until her spine is rigid. “I rarely drink.” She hurries to add, “A beer here and there, but that’s all.”
That certainly explains why she’s such a lightweight and in the current state she’s in. “You had more than beer tonight and it’s gone to your head. ”
With a look of great confusion, Lorelai asks, “Are you home from college?”
“I’m home to help my dad in the restaurant,” I tell her. “I’m out of college.”
Ignoring my explanation, she closes her eyes and declares, “You took me to the prom. I always knew you would. My friends are going to be so jealous.”
Getting out of the car, I walk over to the passenger side before opening the door and helping Noah’s sister back onto her feet. I hope she doesn’t remember any of this in the morning or she’s never going to be able to look me in the eye again. Which could lead to a very uncomfortable stay at her house.
Lorelai leans against me as I walk her up the path. Taking my house key out of my pocket, I unlock the door and push it open. “Do you need help getting upstairs?”
She shoves her hands against my chest and playfully drawls, “I’m not gonna sleep with you.” Then she puckers up her mouth and adds, “But I wouldn’t mind a kiss. Maybe even a whole bunch of them.”
Oh, brother. I lean in toward her and chastely give her a peck on her cheek, which causes her face to crunch up in consternation. “That’s it? Huh. Kind of a letdown after dreaming about it since I was ten. Oh, well. You’re still a very nice person.”
Steering her toward the stairs, I gently push her from behind as she takes one step at a time. Once we reach the upstairs hall, I lead her to her bedroom door. “Do you need help getting into bed?”
Leaning against me, she says, “Wait until Allie hears that you tried to get me into bed.” Then she slumps against me.
I carry Lorelai across the room before gently laying her on her duvet. Then I drape what I’m assuming is one of her homemade throws over her. I’ve got to say, she’s certainly more talented in that department than I remember. Before I go, I find a bottle of Tylenol in the bathroom across the hall and leave it, along with a glass of water, on the nightstand next to her .
Lorelai is not going to feel well in the morning. Hopefully, she won’t remember repeatedly propositioning me. She’s a sweet kid. Scratch that, she’s a nice woman, but I am here to fix things with my dad. I’m not here to complicate my life by getting involved with someone who lives two hours away from Chicago. And even if I were, it wouldn’t be with my best friend’s little sister.