Chapter 30
Mom is busier than ever getting her kimchi ready for the farmer’s market.
When Callie’s mom heard we had wiped the convenience store clean of their supply of mason jars and still needed more, she offered the ones that were left over from her honey.
So while Gavin goes to get them, Mom gets started on yet another batch.
“Wanna come with me?” Gavin asks me on his way out.
He knows I’m always down to hang out with Callie. But between Gavin’s job at the cafe and Callie’s internship, I know they don’t get to spend a lot of time together, so I make up an excuse. “I’ll stay here to help Mom,” I say.
After Gavin leaves I join Mom in the kitchen. She’s hovering over the big bowl, filled to the brim with cabbages and a kimchi paste concoction. With her pink rubber gloves on, she slathers the mixture around, making sure each piece of cabbage is coated with the red peppery goodness.
“Can you get the jar of chopped garlic in the fridge?” She motions behind me. By now she knows my help in the kitchen is best limited to noncooking tasks.
I rummage through the fridge that somehow became packed overnight. “I can’t find it.”
“It’s behind the kimchi,” Mom says.
Which one? There are more jars than shelf space. After playing Tetris with the jars, I finally find the container of chopped garlic. She instructs me to put a healthy amount into the vat, and she continues mixing it together.
“I didn’t realize there were so many different kinds of kimchi,” I say, putting the jar back in the fridge.
“There are over a hundred types,” she says, popping a piece of cabbage covered in kimchi paste in my mouth.
The crunchy texture of the not-yet-pickled cabbage mixed with spices is refreshing. “So good.”
She nods, agreeing with me. I hold the jar out while she fills it with the fresh batch of kimchi. When it’s full, I screw the lid on it tightly and set it aside.
“This batch is your best one yet. I have no doubt everyone in town is going to love it,” I say, holding out another empty jar for her to fill.
“The only thing that would make it taste better would be cabbage from Anbandegi. We grew the sweetest cabbage I’ve ever tasted.”
“Really? I’d like to try it someday.”
“I hope you do. But you know what I think?” She pauses, glancing over at me. “I think it tasted sweeter because I worked hard for it.”
“Is this one of those sneak-attack lectures about how I need to be more self-sufficient?” I raise my brow at her.
“Not this time,” she says, laughing. “With all the hired help and your father running the business, I hadn’t felt a sense of purpose in a while. And everything seemed…tasteless.” She turns to face me. “Making kimchi for this town is giving me purpose. That’s why this batch tastes so good.”
“Now, that I believe.” I smile at her. “I’m so glad you’re doing this.”
“Me too.” She gives me a side hug, careful not to let her kimchi-stained gloves touch me.
Not too long after Mom and I clean the kitchen, Gavin comes home with jars from Callie’s house. He also brings with him an unexpected, but not unwelcome, guest.
“Hey, Brennan.” I angle my good side toward him.
“Hey, Elena. Hi, Mrs. Ok.” He nods politely since his hands are full.
Mom smiles affectionately at Brennan, then at the box in his hands. Her eyes widen. “That’s more than I was expecting.”
“Guess that means you’ll have to make more kimchi.” I give Mom a knowing look.
Mom smiles at me. “I don’t need all of them now, though. How about this? Elena, make space in the hall closet for Brennan. I’ll show Gavin where to put these in the shed.” Mom slips off her rubber gloves, lays them gently on the bowl, then leads Gavin outside to the shed.
“I didn’t know you were coming over,” I say to Brennan as I open the hall closet.
“I ran into Gavin on his way to Callie’s. Figured as long as I was there, I could help.”
“I’m sure you could,” I say, staring him up and down. There’s something else he can help me with. “Gavin’s going to work at the cafe later, and my parents have plans to go into town. You could keep me company while they’re gone,” I say, fluttering my lashes.
Instead of reacting to my suggestive tone, he’s completely unaffected. “Sorry, but I can’t.” He turns me down without an explanation.
So I try again. I compliment him, flip my hair, and laugh too loudly—all of my go-tos that usually do the trick, but none of them work. In fact, he does something I’ve never seen a guy do to my advances: nothing.
“Well, I better go,” he says after setting the box down. “Tell Gavin I said bye.”
“Okay.” I wave.
By the time he’s out of sight, Gavin and Mom come back from the shed.
“Did Brennan leave?” Gavin asks.
“Yeah. And he said to say bye to you,” I say flatly.
Gavin picks up on my mood. “Did something happen?”
“It doesn’t make sense. I thought we had a moment the other day,” I say, thinking aloud.
“El, I’m sorry. Maybe Brennan isn’t interested in dating anyone right now.”
“But that’s just it. A reliable source said he is interested in someone.” I don’t give Callie away since I gave her my word, although I’m pretty sure Gavin can figure it out. “And the same source strongly suggested it was me.”
Still, Gavin remains unconvinced. He leans against the wall and hesitates before he speaks.
“Look, El. I’ve seen how invested you are in expanding the town’s booth at the farmer’s market, and the people here are buzzing with excitement over your efforts to improve the convenience store.
When it comes to something you believe in, you are all in.
And the results?” He whistles. “They surpass everyone’s expectations.
Even your lifestyle brand. I can see that now.
” A sheepish expression crosses his face.
“My point is, I know that you give a hundred percent of yourself to anything you set your mind to. And I’m sure dating is no different.
So before you put yourself on the line, make sure you know all the facts.
I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he says.
By now I’m used to Gavin’s unsolicited advice.
But this one hits differently. Unlike before, there’s no judgmental undertone of disapproval at the heart of his message, and he doesn’t sound like he’s reading off a script Dad provided for him.
This time he’s not acting like a caring older brother.
He is one. I smile appreciatively at him.
Gavin smiles back. “Just don’t do anything unless you talk to Brennan.”
My smile falters. As much as I want to take Gavin’s advice, especially after his overprotective-big-brother spiel, I can’t.
It’s not like I can ask Brennan directly if he’s interested in me.
Not without risking our friendship by making things supremely awkward in the event he says no, however slim the chances are.
No, I definitely can’t ask Brennan. But someone else can… .
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Gavin fidgets self-consciously.
—
Here’s the plan: Gavin is going to meet with Brennan tomorrow morning before he starts his day at the observatory.
Since Gavin will be starting his shift at the cafe at the same time, he suggested grabbing a coffee there.
While they talk, Gavin has been instructed to bring up my name in a series of conversational starters we work on together.
They include, but are not exclusive to, my incredible fashion sense, my charitable nature, my entrepreneurial spirit, my endearing personality.
There’s so much material to work with, I’m sure Gavin won’t have a problem bringing up my name in conversation.
It’s his social acuity I’m worried about.
Gavin isn’t the best at picking up on subtle nuances in a person’s mannerisms that could, in certain situations, convey more than a thousand words.
There’s so much that is told through indirect communication that can only be deciphered through keen observation.
A far-off look or a deep sense of longing.
A flash of hope or a shadow that crosses an expression.
Or even a modulation of the pitch in the inflection or intonation of Brennan’s voice.
For example, he could say, “Elena is amazing.” Which would suggest he’s already aware of my many attractive attributes and ready to profess his love.
Or he could say, “Elena is amazing,” which would suggest a new revelation that he’s considering worth exploring.
The distinction between the two, though subtle, makes all the difference.
Needless to say, I can’t leave it up to Gavin to relay every detail.
How can I know for sure how Brennan feels about me if Gavin doesn’t know how to read those social cues?
When I conclude that Gavin is an unreliable narrator, I come up with a backup plan.
After Gavin leaves I’ll wait ten minutes before following him to hear for myself what Brennan thinks of me.
And to appear less conspicuous, I’ll change into something less Elena.
It’s like that time I had plans to go to a Taylor Swift concert but the paparazzi had been camped outside of my house all day.
Kiki told me to lie low so we could best optimize my earning potential, and I always listen to her.
But after doing back-to-back-to-back publicity events, I was tired of saying yes to everyone and saying no to me.
Long story short, I disregarded Kiki’s advice and went to the concert anyway.
I was in my boundaries era. The point is, since I was wearing unflattering clothes that were loose around the hips and midsection and I had greasy, unstyled hair, no one recognized me when I went to the concert, and I was able to hide in plain sight.
It worked then, and I’m sure it’ll work now.