Chapter Nine Cake, Crocs, and a Cat #2
Griffin doesn’t seem to like that answer, because he grabs the napkins I abandoned earlier on the counter and puts one at each place mat anyway. Nana watches but doesn’t stop him, beaming in my direction. I bite back a smile. Yeah, I don’t think that’s his PR training at all.
We gather at the table. Dad’s fried chicken and mashed potatoes are passed around, along with green beans that Rob ignores and mac and cheese that Griffin scoops for Ava, who sits in a booster seat Mom pulled from the attic.
I sit next to Griffin, trying to keep my arms tucked in so we don’t accidentally touch, but he’s too bulky. My shoulders slip against his biceps.
“So,” Dad asks, “how are you liking the town?”
“We’re settling in,” Griffin says. “I’m not accustomed to being out of LA in January.”
“Oh yeah, it’s cold as hell,” Greg says. “Just be thankful it hasn’t snowed in a few days. You’ll be shriveled up, y’know?”
Seriously, Greg?
“Totally,” Rob chimes in.
“C’mon guys,” Dad chastises, even though he adds with a smile, “It’ll be cold, though, Griff. Get prepared.”
Griffin’s eyes bounce between the conversations. I wince.
“So,” Momma interjects. “I hear you and our Bev are making music.”
Thank you, mother. Let’s absolutely not talk about cold testicles, please.
“Yes. Just until Beverly pitches the show in March. And then I’ll be on tour after.”
“Oh, yeah?” Rob chimes in, darting his eyes around the table, as if gauging whether anyone else is as interested as he is. “Where”—another peek—“where ya going?”
“UK. Germany. I think Spain? Couple other places too.”
“And you’re working out here for the full two months before then?” Momma asks.
“Well, I’ve got the Grammys in February.”
“No way,” Rob breathes.
“It shouldn’t break up my routine, though.” Griffin shrugs, but his shoulders are tense. “Once I start writing, it doesn’t take too long. Just gotta start.”
“You enter like a flow state or something?” Greg asks.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“I’ve done that before,” Greg says. “With art. I used to paint a lot. Portraits, mostly.”
“Used to?”
“Well, then I got into hydroponic plants.”
I suck in a breath.
Oh, Greg…
“Basically, I grew tomatoes in my basement,” he explains. I’ll give him credit: Uncle Greg might be odd, but he doesn’t enjoy people getting lost in conversation. “Didn’t last long. And then I got into aquariums.”
“Greg is a hobbyist,” Nana adds.
“Aquariums?” Griffin asks. “I had a goldfish for about fifteen years, but I don’t know if that counts.”
Greg nods. “Definitely does. Normally they don’t make it a week past whatever fall festival kids win them from. An epidemic, honestly.”
“Yeah, I got him from a festival. I didn’t go to sleep until I was sure he’d make it through the night,” Griffin continues. “Kept feeding him. Plunked him into a bowl. You know.”
“Good call. Plunking early is key,” Greg says with a grin.
Ava squeals from her booster seat. I look over as Pudge sniffs her shoes.
“Pudge, come on,” Rob pleads, patting his knee. Pudge blows out a tired breath and ambles away.
“So, where are you staying?” Dad asks.
“Some house in…Burnsville? I think?” Griffin says.
Dad gawks. “Burnsville?!”
“It’s not too far, though.”
“Burnsville—”
Mom winces. “That is kinda far. You’re not in town?”
“No, that’s where Jimmy—my manager—found the closest rental.”
“I guess Daisy is out of town, isn’t she?” Dad muses to Mom.
“She comes back soon,” Greg says, then adds to Griffin, “Daisy runs our cottages up here. She tends to cut town in January.”
“You know that schedule well,” Rob mumbles.
Greg side-eyes him with a smirk. He headlocks him and scruffs the top of his head. “Little shit.”
“Greg,” Mom says with a sigh.
Nana snorts.
“Ma, c’mon, he’s not funny,” Mom says.
“I’m the baby,” Greg says, spearing green beans on his fork. “I’m hilarious.”
“You’re in your fifties.”
Dad, moving on from the usual sibling battle, asks, “So, how long does it take you to get up here?”
Griffin shrugs. “Only an hour.”
“An hour!” Mom’s eyes widen as she sets down her glass.
“Yeah, it’s not too bad.”
Mom gasps. “Not too bad?!”
“Climbing the mountain can be tough. Ear popping isn’t fun, but we’ll be fine.”
Nana shakes her head, cutting into her chicken. “Well, that won’t do.”
“I agree,” Momma says.
Nana nods. “That’s too far away. We have an apartment out back. You can stay there.”
Silence engulfs the room. My lips part in shock.
That apartment is her house. Grandpa’s house. Nobody’s stayed there since she moved into the room across from mine.
And that means Griffin will be in my backyard. Twenty-four seven.
I barely know the guy. We barely know him.
I mean, yes, this entire thing was kinda my call, but that’s beside the point.
Nana peers up at me, then to the rest of the table. “Oh, please. Like it wouldn’t make more sense anyway. That poor girl’s ears popping? I’d be crying all the time too.”
We all look to Ava. That’s when I realize that maybe Ava’s face likely isn’t red from the cold. My heart sinks.
Griffin tongues his cheek and shakes his head. “Thank you, but I can’t ask that of you.”
“Good lord,” Nana croons with an eye roll. “Navigating those winding roads in the dark? No. I won’t have it.”
Griffin swivels his eyes to me. Both eyebrows are pinched in. Is he concerned? Bothered? I can’t fully read him yet.
My dad gestures with his fork and says, “You know what? That’s a great idea, Nana. Griffin, you should absolutely move in. We’d love to have you and your sister.”
“Right, you shouldn’t have to care for her alone,” Nana says.
“Where is your mom, by the way?” Rob asks Griffin.
“Robert,” Mom snaps.
He winces. “Oh, sorry, I just—”
“Ava’s mom passed,” Griffin says. “A year ago.”
Ava’s mom.
The table goes silent again, but this time it swallows us up. I want to crawl out of my skin. Mom stares. Dad does too.
I assumed Griffin and Ava’s mom had broken up, or she wasn’t in the picture, or…not that Ava’s mom had passed. My stomach ties into knots. How did it happen? Were they together a while? I don’t remember him publicly dating anyone. Maybe they were secretly high school sweethearts.
I finally break the awkward quiet. “I didn’t know that, Griffin. I’m so sorry.”
Griffin’s jaw tenses. “It’s fine. Really.” Utensils clank on plates. The record croons. He clears his throat. “Um, so, the house out back…?”
Not my chosen subject but a better one.
“It’s completely empty,” Mom says quickly. “And we won’t tell anyone you’re staying here.”
“Yeah, if Glenn can keep a secret,” Greg mumbles with a smirk.
Dad scoffs, but it’s threaded with laughter. “I would never!”
“You told Eddie about my goat,” Greg says.
“Not your goat—Daisy’s. And that thing was eating Fran’s garden.”
Greg shrugs. “He’s a good goat, all things considered.”
“Since when do you like those goats?” Dad asks.
Suddenly, Nana lets out a heavy sigh. “We won’t tell a soul about Griffin, though, will we?” Nana looks around, leaning in for emphasis. “Will we?”
The table emerges in “No, of course not” and “Our secret” and “He’s not a goat.”
“Good. So.” Nana straightens her hunch. “You’re moving in.”
Mom smiles. “We’ll see that it’s ready for you by tomorrow.”
Griffin clears his throat. “That’s…you don’t have to.”
“You’re our guest,” Nana says. “Yes, we do.”
Griffin’s eyes snap to mine, but my shoulders rise to my ears. Hey, I’m stuck, too, buddy. I wonder if there’s a kinship here. I guess he’s my guest before anyone else’s, but I feel like I know him almost as well as they do, which is not at all.
“I’ll think about it,” Griffin answers.
My heart pounds in my throat.
Sure.
Easy.
We’ll live on the same property.
No biggie.
The rest of dinner is easy in comparison, even though my knee bounces under the table. At least we’re not talking about fish or goats or—oh God—dead partners.
Poor Griffin.
Poor Ava.
But that girl is none the wiser. Ava can’t get enough of Greg’s strawberry cake, and she squeals, “Cat!” when Steak so much as glances in her direction. Eventually he trudges down to the den to be left alone. C’mon, man.
I pack up leftovers while Nana hugs Griffin, handing him the key to the garage and curling his palm around it.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” she says. He smiles but doesn’t agree, yet he also doesn’t argue. “Beverly, show him the garage apartment before he leaves, will you?”
Oh, boy…
“Sure.”
Griffin crouches down to Ava. “Ready to go, munchkin?” She watches Rob play his video game on the TV over the fireplace. Rob never plays on the big screen, but he keeps looking back at Griffin, as if wanting him to acknowledge it.
Griffin scoops up Ava.
“Go!” she says, pointing to the stairs.
“That’s right. We’re going.” He looks at the TV and nods. “Oh, Halo. Classic.”
Rob absolutely glows.
With a final handshake, Uncle Greg looks between us and pats Griffin on the back. “Better be nice. We like her.”
It’s not a threat, but it’s also most definitely a threat.
“Thanks for that,” I murmur to Greg, who pats me on the back too.
I descend the staircase with Griffin and Ava behind me. Once we’re back in the den, I let out a heavy exhale.
“Well…wanna see the apartment?” I ask.
“Uh…sure. Yeah.”
I guide us outside, where the wind whips past us as we cross the yard. I hold out my hand for the key. Griffin drops it into my palm, brushing his rough fingers over mine before I unlock the door to Grandpa and Nana’s old garage apartment.