Chapter 18
SASHA
On Sunday morning, I yawn and stagger out of the room in the pair of sweats Griffin lent me. The pants are comically baggy. Only the tie at the waist keeps them from falling down around my ankles.
The kitchen smells deliciously of bacon, and I can see from here there’s a full plate of breakfast on the table.
Last night, after I was sure Griffin was back in his workshop, I pulled out that casserole and very indelicately ate a full quarter of it right out of the dish.
It was heavenly. I’m not sure how this will top that.
Movement outside catches my eye. Griffin’s out there with Chester. The back of his arm rests on one of the Adirondacks on the back porch, while Chester sits on the rail across from him. I can’t hear what either of them is saying, though it looks like Chester’s doing most of the talking.
Griffin’s big hand curls around a mug of steaming coffee resting on the wide arm of the chair, and somehow, it’s that I fixate on as I head through the patio door.
“Good morning, boys.”
As I step outside, both men stand up.
Or Chester tries to. He stumbles as he slides off the rail, and I move for him, forgetting my hands are full. “Chester!”
Griffin deftly takes both my coffee mug and plate before they topple out of my hands.
“Whoopsie!” Chester rights himself easily enough. Just a harmless stumble. “Good mornin’ sunshine!”
Then, of all things, he drops to his knee. It cracks loudly. He visibly winces, but his smile doesn’t falter.
“Chester, what are you doing?”
But Chester doesn’t answer. He just takes my hand and says, “A beautiful woman such as yourself deserves absolute deference, I’ve always said.”
He gets a wistful kind of look in his eyes, and for a moment, I swear I see a flash of real pain there, like I saw when he mentioned his family. Then, in a blink, it’s gone and the bearded mountain man is back up on his feet with a subtle boost from Griffin at his back.
Over the old man’s shoulder, Griffin shocks me by giving me a smile along with a little wink.
A burst of butterflies flutters against my insides.
Is that why he’s so conservative with his smiles? Because of their untold power?
“I could get used to that,” I say to Chester, even though my eyes are on Griffin, that fluttering going even harder as his gaze doesn’t leave mine.
I may not be coming onto him, but I’m still enjoying flirting. Just to see how he’ll react.
“But Chester.” I turn to the older man. “Please, no need to get down on your knees next time. You can show your deference to me while standing.”
Chester grins dopily as I plop myself down in the chair next to Griffin’s.
I only realize he’s bent down and lifted my coffee out of the way a moment later when I gasp, remembering it, and look for where I had to have knocked it over.
“You want to just toss it on the porch boards and get it over with?” he says.
Chester hoots. “Listen to Mr. Neat ’n Tidy over here.”
“Right?” I say. “Mr. Perfect’s probably never spilled a thing in his life.”
“You should see him inside my place. Last time he came over to patch up my ceiling, I swear he grew a new ulcer.”
“I keep telling you that you need to let me redo your roof, Chester.”
“It’s on the list. After the deck you gone and wrecked with your big clodhopper.”
“I nearly broke my leg!” To me, Griffin says, “His back deck’s rotted through.” He points a finger at Chester. “You’re banned from going back there, remember?”
Chester waves a hand dismissively. “There are plenty of good boards. Anyhow, home repair is not the reason for my visit. Neither was shootin’ the breeze with our friend Griffin here, but a lady needs her beauty sleep.”
“Do tell,” I say, sipping my coffee.
“Well, I know it’s customary to ask how you slept in the morning, but my most pressing concern is letting you know I’ve given some thought to your offer of marriage.”
I freeze with the coffee cup halfway back to the chair. “Oh?”
“While it gives me great pains to admit it, I’m afraid to say my heart belongs to another.”
“Really?” I’m rapt, dying to know who this other party is.
“Another few, if I’m being perfectly honest.”
I screw up my face as I glance at Griffin, confused.
Chester sighs dreamily. “Yep. Lucille, Ball, Celine, Dion, Nina, Simone, Patsy, and Cline. Oh, and Bilbo Baggins.”
I throw back my head and laugh. He’s talking about his chickens.
“They’re awful jealous,” Chester sighs. Then he breaks out in a cackle.
Even Griffin lowers his face. His shoulders shake slightly.
God, I thought a little smile from him sent me—but to see him laugh?
“It’s a real shame,” Chester says. “Anyhow, I think you and Griffin ought to get hitched.”
Next to me, Griffin has just taken a sip of coffee, and he coughs, barely managing not to choke.
“Is that right?” I ask, reaching over and clapping Griffin’s back.
“Yep. Two of you look pretty cute together. I’m a mite jealous.”
My stomach does a little swirl. What does Chester see between us? We haven’t pretended to be together with him the way we did with Jude.
I pick up my toast, then set it down again.
Griffin abruptly gets up and goes inside.
“Somethin’ I said?” Chester asks.
“I don’t really know,” I say honestly, digging back into my eggs. “But I’ve stopped trying to figure him out.”
Chester settles back down on the railing. “All I figure is he’s a good man, Griffin Kelly. Did you know he saved my life.”
I set my fork down. “Really?” Seems to be a theme for Griffin Kelly. “What happened? If you don’t mind sharing.”
“My furnace went out last winter. I had a bit too much of my summer hootch to keep warm and, well, I fell asleep next to the fire in the living room. Almost didn’t wake up. Griff came by to check on me, though, thank the heavens. Found me near froze to death.”
My throat goes tight, thinking of this poor man all on his own.
Thank God for Griffin.
“He’s a good man to have around.”
Chester smiles kind of sadly. “That he is.”
We’re both silent for a moment as I take another sip of coffee. Then I set my mug down. “Hey, Chester?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Did you ever want to get married?”
“You mean besides to my girls?”
“Yeah,” I laugh. “To a human. Or…humans, I guess.”
He shrugs. “Us Browns—we never had much luck in love.”
I laugh, dryly. “Sounds like my family.”
Chester gives me a sympathetic look. “Your parents ain’t together?”
“They’re together. They just kind of…greatly dislike each other.”
He nods sagely. “They got married for the wrong reasons.”
That’s putting it mildly. “They got married after some newspaper discovered my father was hiding a secret lovechild.”
Chester whistles. “Almost as bad as my grandpop getting his heart broke and swearing off society. Always said nature couldn’t hold a candle to his true love, but it sure tried.”
The sentiment is so sweet I want to write it down.
But I still can’t figure out how a hermit produced grandchildren. “How’d you come to fruition if he was living out here, Chester? Out of curiosity.”
“Me personally? My pa knocked up his housekeeper.”
If I was drinking my coffee, I’d be the one to choke this time.
Chester thinks this is hilarious, of course, and laughs hard enough I’m worried he’s going to lose a lung.
I’m still confused, though—if his dad and his grandpa were both recluses, did they live here together? When he calms down, I ask him.
He studies me a moment, then looks down. “My parents’ story don’t end happy, I’m sad to say. They passed when I was still a child. I ended up here with granddad ’til he went, too.”
The way he looks out into the smattering of clouds makes something twist in my chest. “I’m so sorry, Chester.”
Chester waves my sympathy away. “Now listen, if it weren’t for the very particular course of events that occurred, I wouldn’t know this big ole galoot, and I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you neither.”
I turn to follow his gaze and find Griffin standing in the doorway. How long has he been standing there?
“Everything all right over here?” he grumbles.
“I think so,” I say.
It’s then I notice he’s got a little ceramic pot in his hand. Somehow, amid all the chaos of that first night in the diner, Griffin remembered my weird thing about toast and honey.
“Not to interrupt your life story,” Griffin says to Chester, handing me the little pot, “but I still don’t believe you came here to tell us about your undying love for your hens.”
“You’re right,” he says, holding up a finger. “I’m not sure how I forgot. Too much distraction over here.”
With that, I get my second wink of the day, this one from Chester.
I’m spoiled.
“I came to see if Sasha wants to come see my swimming hole.”
“Um,” I say, my mouth half-stuffed with toast.
“That’s not an in-your-end-o,” Chester assures me. “There aren’t too many swimming days left in the summer, and I thought maybe you all could use some stress relief.”
Now I’m trying hard not to laugh. But we haven’t done anything in nature since I’ve been here. I think Griffin’s worried I’m going to break in the great outdoors or something.
“You know what?” I say. “That’s exactly what I’d like to do.”