Chapter 32 #2
Brooke schools her features into happiness. “I’m great,” she says with a forced smile.
“Okay,” I say, though I don’t believe her. “Dad and I will be right out with dinner.”
My parents each shut their binders at the same time and look up at me.
They didn’t say a word as I went through each color-coded section.
They nodded and flipped the pages. I reviewed the business plan, the loan and mortgage documents, the renovation schedule, and the plan for how I’ll still support the Market.
My mouth is dry when I finish—from the nerves or all the talking, I’m not sure.
I can’t get a read on what the looks on their faces mean.
The pit in my stomach brings me back about twenty years when I got caught smoking pot with Joey and his younger brother at a nearby playground after curfew.
My dad and Joey’s dad drove Mom’s Ford Taurus wagon around the neighborhood until they found the three of us lying on our backs on the basketball court, laughing our asses off.
None of us remember what we were laughing at, but we all remember the sound of my dad’s booming voice shouting our names.
They confiscated what remained of the pot and drove us home.
Then my parents sat me down at this dining room table and gave me a lecture that involved the dreaded we’re not mad, we’re disappointed.
I later learned they took the confiscated pot and smoked it that night.
..and even later learned that Joey’s brother, Adam, had stolen it from their dad.
I take a deep breath and glance in Brooke’s direction. After a silence that lasts seconds but feels like decades, Brooke gives me a hopeful smile and squeezes my hand under the table. It gives me the courage to ask them what they think.
They slowly look at one another, and Mom raises her eyebrows at Dad. I envy the way they can have full conversations with just their eyes.
Dad speaks first. “You’ve talked to the bank and gone over the mortgage with them? The monthly payment breakdown, closing costs?”
“Yes, I’ve reviewed everything and have a more detailed budget on my laptop we can go over.”
Mom’s next. “The renovation timeline is pretty aggressive.”
“It is, but we’ve built in a buffer, so even with some setbacks, we’d be ready to open on time.”
“You’re sure you can get the right permitting for a restaurant?” Dad again.
“I’ve spoken with the town’s planning and zoning committee and started the initial paperwork. I don’t expect any delays there, but again, we have a buffer built in.”
“What do you think, Brooke?” Mom asks.
“It’s a risky endeavor,” she says, all business.
I hold my breath for what she’ll say next.
“Restaurants are tough. But Caleb has done all the due diligence in researching and planning. The location is fantastic. It’s far enough into the backcountry that you feel like you’ve escaped the shoreline, but close enough that it’s not a huge trip.
The proximity to the parkway will attract people from Westchester and the city.
Having a casual bar area and a formal main dining area are perfect for a regular night out and special occasions.
There are opportunities for events like bridal or baby showers, rehearsal dinners.
The local community is supportive. Caleb’s already spoken to many of the local farms and they’re excited by the idea.
Plus, Caleb’s an amazing chef, but you already know that. ”
I can’t look at her because if I do, I’ll tell her I love her and I want her to quit her job and do this with me. Instead, I squeeze her hand under the table.
My parents look at each other again. Mom gives the smallest nod to Dad. He looks to me and I can see the tears building up in the brown eyes that match mine. Fuck. This was a terrible idea.
“Caleb,” he says, his voice cracking. “We’re so proud of you, son.”
What?
In the corner of my eye, I see Brooke’s lips curl into a smile.
“You’re what?” I ask, mouth agape.
“We’re proud of you, Caleb,” Mom says, her eyes twinkling. “You put a lot of work and thought into this, which is more than I can say for your father when we got started.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Dad says with a laugh.
“Honey, your plan, if you could even call it that, was written on the back of four different coasters at some bar downtown one night after a few drinks. It all worked out, but we had no idea what we were doing. This is impressive, Caleb.”
“I like how organized this is,” Dad says, shifting his eyes to Brooke. “I take it you had something to do with that…and all the different color folders in my office?”
“Maybe a little.” She shrugs with a sweet smile. “But the rest is Caleb. You have to see the property. The pictures in there don’t do it justice.”
“We can’t wait to see it,” Mom says, still beaming.
We talk more about the plan—there’s still plenty to figure out and more questions to answer—but the conversation moves to Mom and Dad reminiscing about the early days, when Judy was still in the picture.
We’re all ignoring the elephant in the room.
The elephant that Brooke knows exists but has no idea how large it is.
Her relationship with her mom is precarious, and as much as I’ve wanted to broach the subject, I’ve stayed silent.
It’s still so new between us…but how long can I ignore this?
Brooke picks at her slice of key lime pie, listening to Dad tell one of his many stories of near mishaps and difficult clients.
My hand is draped over the back of her chair and I’m not hearing a word he says.
I can’t when being near her takes over every single one of my senses.
She laughs wholeheartedly at a particularly funny part of a story that I’m sure I’ve heard at least a dozen times.
The sound reverberates through my body, bringing a wide smile to my face.
“My mom never told me any of these stories,” she says, stabbing the last small piece of pie crust. “It sounds like you worked so well together, I don’t understand why you stopped.”
“It was a long time ago, Brooke,” Dad says. “Best to forget about it.”
“Is it really that bad?”
My body stiffens as Dad’s eyes reach mine. The resolve in his eyes answers the question in mine.
I guess we’re doing this.