Chapter Eleven
Lilah cast a critical eye at Glenn’s shirt.
“What’s wrong with it?” he said.
“Don’t you have anything better?”
“Better? What do you mean better?” He never should have told Lilah he was going out with Cassie.
Now she’d made it her mission to spiff him up.
He considered the shirt, a blue and green plaid, one of his favorites.
It looked all right. He and Cassie had agreed on casual, so what was wrong with jeans and a flannel?
Lilah rummaged through his closet. “Why do you still even have this?” she said, zeroing in on a fleece he happened to like. “I remember this from when I was little.”
“It’s comfortable.” He plucked it out of her hand. No way he was getting rid of that. He’d owned it since college.
She gave him her most severe look. “Seriously Dad. It’s ugly.”
“Well I’m not wearing it tonight so don’t worry about it.
” This whole thing had become nerve wracking.
Why had he agreed to dinner? He’d been floored when Cassie came out and asked him, and okay, tickled too.
He’d been thinking about her a lot but never would have mustered up the courage to ask her out.
He would have puttered along, taking care of the bees, finding reasons to get over there once a week, hoping for a chance to talk to her. But he would have left it at that.
He jettisoned the offending shirt. He knew why he’d said yes.
Besides the fact that she was a great looking woman, she had a contagious energy that made him feel like he’d kicked up the burner on the stove.
He’d been simmering on low for so long he’d forgotten what it felt like to be around someone who bubbled along at a boil.
He liked that about her. She had a lot on her plate, but she didn’t let it knock her down.
And she’d been pretty damn cute with a bee in her hair. But what if they didn’t have anything to talk about? All they had in common was her dad, and how far could that get them?
Lilah selected another shirt. “Try this one,” she said, plopping onto his bed for a better view.
“It’s flannel, like the other one. Only red.”
“It’s more up-to-date. Trust me, you’ll look better.”
He gave her his are you kidding look, which made her giggle. “Okay, as up-to-date as you can be.”
“Hey,” he said, trying for nonchalant. “Have you heard from your mom?”
“She texted before. Why are you asking that way?”
He held up his hands. “I wasn’t asking any particular way, I just wanted to know if you heard from her.”
“She’s going to call Sunday.”
“Okay. Good.” He’d been relieved when Sophie returned Lilah on time from Vermont, almost had him believing things might change. But when Sophie didn’t return her calls, Lilah’s upbeat mood deflated. True to form, despite all that bullshit about doing better.
Lilah was edging toward the door, but he didn’t want to leave it like that, especially with him going out.
“Listen,” he said. “It’s great that you went on that trip with your mom.
I’d love you to have a relationship with her.
I really would.” Deep down he wasn’t sure if this was quite true, but he needed to say it.
He dropped a kiss on her head. “I’m on your side, okay? ”
She surprised him by wrapping her arms around him and burrowing into his chest. “Okay.”
He held her close. Goddamn Sophie. He had no doubt she would disappoint again. How many more times until Lilah was too bitter to care? Until she grew into an adult who could trust no one.
Lilah squirmed away, ready to move on. “Wear that one,” she said, tossing him the red shirt. “And don’t tuck it in.”
“Won’t it look messy that way?”
“You don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard.”
“Tucking in my shirt is trying too hard?” Could that be true?
Maybe with the middle school set. He was starting to regret this.
He had no hope of impressing Cassie. She was a lawyer who lived in New York.
She probably pulled down three times what he did and undoubtedly knew her wines.
He was who he was. A beekeeper who drove a pickup with his name on the side.
A big night out in the Marsden house was bringing home Thai food and watching a movie on Netflix.
No point trying to be something he wasn’t.
But here he was trying on a bunch of shirts with his stomach all wound up.
He hadn’t been on a date in ages. He barely remembered how to talk to a woman.
He’d gone out a little here and there over the years—a divorced mom from Lilah’s school, then someone his brother fixed him up with.
But no one he was very interested in. Anyway, Cassie had made it plain she was a short-timer.
She’d be gone in a few weeks or a month at most.
Lilah gave the red flannel a thumbs up and whipped out her phone to take a picture. “You look good.”
“What are you doing?” he said, alarmed. “Who are you sending that to?”
“Just Crystal. I told her you had a date.”
“You better not post that anywhere,” he warned as she skipped out of the room.
She giggled. “Don’t worry.”
“I won’t be late,” he called as he trooped downstairs. It felt beyond strange, heading out on a date with his twelve-year-old daughter waiting up at home.
He gave Charlie a rub and headed for the door. Then, glancing back to make sure Lilah was out of sight, tucked in his shirt again.
At least he would look like a grown up.
. . .
He and Cassie had agreed to meet at Pascuale’s, a popular Italian place in town.
Cassie was already there when he arrived, which made him feel right away that he’d started off badly.
He’d wanted to be polite and arrive first, but there she was, waiting at the hostess stand wearing black pants and a pale blue sweater.
Heels too. He’d never seen her in heels.
She gave him a friendly wave, and he felt a sudden rush of anxiety. Should he kiss her hello? Shaking hands seemed too formal. What was the protocol with someone you barely knew? And a client, to boot. Wait. Was she his client, or was it her dad?
She rescued him with a quick hug. “Hey, you look nice. I like the shirt.”
He gave a sheepish laugh. “Lilah’s doing. She basically told me I needed to step up my game.”
Cassie laughed and his stomach unclenched a little. “She has good taste.”
“She thinks I’m hopeless.”
She tossed him a smile as they followed the hostess to their table. “Of course she does, you’re her dad.”
Pascuale’s had a bistro feel with tables packed close and waitstaff dashing around, lighting candles.
Exposed brick with black and white photos of Tuscany on the walls.
The place was busy, and Glenn’s stomach knotted up again as they waited for what seemed like a long time to order drinks.
What if they ran out of things to say, and everything became slow and wrong. He was so not good at this.
But Cassie seemed unfazed. “I’ve never been here.
It’s charming. My dad’s go-to place is Bobby’s—burgers and fries and orange soda.
The same thing every time.” Her gaze lingered on the room, which was starting to fill.
“These days he wouldn’t know what to do with candles and white tablecloths. ” She sounded a bit wistful.
“Believe me, tablecloths are normally above my paygrade too,” Glenn said, and her smile eased the tight feeling he’d been carrying around. She was beautiful across the table in the candlelight, her hair dark and full, the sweater just low enough to be distracting.
When the waiter finally appeared they both ordered a glass of wine, Chardonnay for her, Cab for him.
“I pegged you for a beer drinker,” she said playfully.
He arched an eyebrow. “Do all the beekeepers you know drink beer?”
“No, of course not. I mean…I actually, um, don’t know any other beekeepers.” She reddened. “I’m sorry, that was silly of me to assume.”
He gave her an amused smile. “Just so you know, I do like beer but I drink wine now and then. When I had my first business I actually drank a lot more wine. Client dinners and all that.”
“What was your business?”
“Land use, sustainable projects.”
She tipped her head, interested. “What kinds of projects?”
“We created a tree grid for the parking lot at the Elm Street shopping center and sited a greenhouse at the high school. That kind of thing. I only took on projects I believed in.”
“Why’d you get out of it?”
“Lilah’s mother had just left, and I needed to be a full-time dad. I couldn’t handle it—employees, clients. Dinners out. All of that. It was the right time to sell.” He shifted uncomfortably at the thought of getting into a long story about his marriage. He definitely did not want to go there.
Cassie gazed at him thoughtfully. “So why beekeeping? Was it because of your grandfather?”
He sat back, surprised she’d remembered.
“He was definitely my mentor. I wouldn’t have gotten interested in bees in the first place if not for him.
He helped me set up a few hives when I bought the house but he was in his late eighties by then and ready to wind it down, so I took his bees.
Your dad sort of reminds me of him,” he said with a smile.
“How so?” she said softly.
“The way he’s so devoted.” Glenn chuckled. “Your dad would have climbed into the truck bed with that box of bees if I’d let him. My grandfather was that way. It used to kill him when he lost a colony after the winter. He always took it personally.”
“I can see that. I actually feel bad about those mites, the way they can wipe out a hive.”
“Are we turning you into a beekeeper?” He smiled.