Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LORELAI
Time is starting to blend together, and I’m no longer sure what day it is. My life has become all about sorting, packing, and schlepping. It turns out my parents want even less from their lives here than I thought they did and the trips to Goodwill have increased. Am I the only one who has fond memories of this house?
After consulting the calendar, I discover it’s only been three days since I found out about my mom and dad’s relocation plans. I decide to take a break from boxing up their seasonal clothes to call Noah. I’m still piqued that he knew about my parents wanting to sell before I did, so I tell him, “I am not packing up your room for you.”
“Um, okay. Hi, by the way.”
“If you want to keep anything, you’d better come home and pack it yourself. Then get rid of whatever you don’t want.” I’m usually way nicer than this, but my family is currently on my list.
“You’re in a mood,” he grumbles.
“I’ve been packing for three straight days and I’m getting tired of it.”
He shouts, “Get back onto that court and walk it off! ”
I hear a poor soul, who I’m guessing is one of his basketball players, say, “But Coach, it’s starting to swell.”
“Is it broken? Can you see bone?” He can’t be serious, but then he hurries to add, “Fine, sit down and put it up, but only for five minutes. No more.”
“Noah,” I say, hoping to remind my brother that he’s on the phone.
“What?” he practically yells before lowering his voice. “If you’re packing up everyone else’s stuff, why can’t you pack mine, too? How long could it possibly take?”
“Mom and Dad are paying me,” I remind him. “You’re not.”
“Would you do it if I paid you?” He sounds desperate and for a moment I feel bad about my surly attitude. The moment passes quickly.
“I would not. Listen, Noah, I know you don’t think I do much of anything, but my life is busy. I’m serious. If you don’t come home within the next two weeks, I’m going to call a charity to come in and clean out your room. The painters need to get in there and so do the guys laying carpet.”
“I’ve got practice every day this week and next …”
I cut him off. “Not my problem. Get here or it all goes.” To punctuate my sincerity, I hang up. A hum of power flows through me and I like it.
Staring at the closet shelves in my parents’ room, I realize I haven’t laid eyes on Luke since our supper together at Pop’s. I wonder if I said something to scare him off. Although, I suppose it’s possible he’s just super busy. Allie mentioned something about the town’s seniors meeting at Pop’s every night this week before their bingo tournament at St. Mary’s. Word is that Faith’s grandmother is up three hundred dollars. She’s using the proceeds to buy more cards so she can take home the thousand-dollar grand prize. She’s promised to use some of her winnings to keep me in yarn.
Thinking about Faith’s grandmother makes me smile. I hope my golden years are spent right here in Elk Lake like Miss Rosemary’s. Yet, if that’s ever going to happen, I’m going to need to figure out a revenue stream to support that dream. Elk Lake is a resort location in summer, and quickly becoming something of a winter destination as well. As such, rents are not as cheap as you’d think they’d be in a small Wisconsin town.
Walking down the stairs, I look at all the paint chips I’ve taped up on the walls. I’ve been checking them at different times of day to see what they look like in various lighting. Today, I’m going to buy some samples and cover larger areas before I commit to the final shades.
I’m surprised to see Luke when I walk into the kitchen. He’s been leaving the house before I get up, and it’s already past nine. He’s sitting at the table staring across the room like he’s in a trance. “Hey,” I say.
He seems startled by the sound of my voice. “Hey, yourself. It looks like you’re going full steam ahead getting everything packed up.”
“There’s so much to do,” I moan, while pouring myself a cup of coffee and joining him. Instead of asking him where he’s been, I say, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Life has been busy.”
“Is your dad okay?”
“I haven’t seen him a lot, but my mom said he’s been doing so well that he’s being released today.”
“Are you spending all of your time at Pop’s?”
“When I’m not at the diner, I’ve been at my parents’ house getting things ready for Dad’s return.” He explains, “Stairs will be tough for him to climb for a while, so we’re setting up his bedroom in the living room. I’ve rented him a hospital bed, a wheelchair, a walker, and all kinds of aids for the bathroom. It’s a lot.”
“I bet your mom is happy you’re home.”
He looks pained as he answers, “She thinks it’s up to me to get my dad to see the light and forgive me for living in Chicago.”
“Have you tried? ”
Luke gives me a sarcastic look. “No, Lorelai, I haven’t. I like being the target of his anger.” He offers a big sigh before looking straight at my face and adding, “Of course, I’ve tried, but the man is not interested.”
I have no idea what to say to that, so I stand up and walk across the kitchen to see if Luke made anything for breakfast. There’s a pot of oatmeal on the stove. “Is there enough for two?” I take his grunt to mean yes, so I fill a bowl before coming back to the table.
Luke says, “I tried cooking for him, hoping that would give us something to bond over, but after the third time, he told me to stop. He said he didn’t want fancy stuff.”
“Did you try talking to him about your restaurant? Maybe the way to his heart is to tell him what you’re doing.”
“I told him on the second day,” he practically spits. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve talked about our memories from my childhood like how we used to cook the fish we caught right on the beach. I’ve waxed poetic about all the fun times we had, but he just turns off.”
“And your mom doesn’t know how you can reach him?”
He shakes his head. “I know she’s upset. She seems as frustrated as I am, but she’s mostly unhappy with me for not making it right with him.”
“What does your dad like to do when he’s not at Pop’s?” I ask in hopes of helping Luke find common ground with his father.
“He likes to fish in the summer. He skis in the winter. I’m not sure what he does in the spring.”
Taking a bite of oatmeal, I release a sound of pleasure. “Yum! Is there ginger in here?”
“Candied ginger, peanut butter, cinnamon, and frozen blueberries.”
“It’s a weird and wonderful combination,” I tell him. “Seriously good.”
“Thanks.” My praise doesn’t seem to affect him.
“Look, Luke,” I finally say, “even if you tied your dad up and forced him to talk, you can’t make him see your side of things. You can only do your best.”
“That’s what I have been doing, but I’m not making any headway.”
“Have you thought about telling him that you’re cooking at Pop’s?”
His eyes widen with anxiety. “He might never speak to me again if he knew that.”
I haven’t been into Pop’s since the supper we shared the other day, so I tell him, “I was thinking about eating there tonight. Any chance you’ll be around?”
“I’ll be there,” he says. “Why don’t you come by around seven. I’m off early tonight.”
“Sounds like a date." I quickly realize my mistake and amend that to, “Sounds like a plan.”
Luke stands up and puts his coffee cup into the sink. “Thanks for listening, Lorelai. Sorry I’m so grumpy. I’m just frustrated.”
“I know the feeling,” I tell him. “Life doesn’t always turn out the way we think it should and that can be quite a shock.”
“You mean like you having to leave your house?”
“That’s certainly one of the things.” It’s more like the main thing. Other than having to move, I really like my life.
“I’ve always been of the mind that we make our own opportunities,” he tells me.
For as simple a statement as that is, something about it really hits home. I guess I’ve always just gone with the flow and hoped for the best. Tucking his words into the back of my mind, I tell him, “I’m here if you ever need to talk.” The truth is that I really like talking to Luke. I feel like he is becoming a lot more than just a past crush. He’s a really decent guy in his own right.
The expression in his eyes softens. “Thank you. I really enjoy talking to you.” Walking toward the door, he says, “I’ll see you tonight.”
As Luke leaves, I realize that I cannot let myself keep pining after him like I have been. I’m just not sure how to stop my feelings. While my original crush on him was one hundred percent motivated by teenage hormones—and there’s still a large percentage of raw attraction going on—I’m also getting to know him. And darn if I don’t like what I see. Luke is a good person. He’s hard-working and driven, but he’s also determined to make things right with his dad. That says a lot about the caliber of man he is.
After finishing my breakfast, I put my bowl into the sink and head into the living room. My parents have collected a weird array of stuff over the years, from bookends shaped like giant noses to animal statues carved from compressed walnut shells. There’s nothing here I would fight my brother for possession of, yet I can’t imagine relegating it all to the shelves at the charity shop. I send pictures to Noah, hoping he’ll take custody of some of it.
My dad’s alien books take up three boxes. Then I pack a drawer full of candles, thinking I might take those with me. If things don’t go well in the hunt for the perfect apartment, I might need a little mood lighting to keep me from noticing the water stains on the walls and the rats running across the floor of my living room. Not to mention keeping things bright after dark should my electricity be shut off for non-payment. Hypothetically speaking, of course.
I’m not sure why I think I’ll be lowered to living in some Dickensian slum, but honestly, that’s all that comes to mind at the moment.
I close my eyes and advise myself, “Buckle up, buttercup. You. Have. Got. This. Failure is not an option.”