Epilogue
MONDAY, DECEMBER 19TH
“That’s it. No new friends,” Maggie said with a resigned sigh as she accepted the seat Daniel was offering. “We’re out of space.”
He looked unnecessarily smug as she settled herself on his thighs and leaned back into his chest. But there was nothing for it. They were packed like sardines into Daniel’s Oak Ridge cabin, having gathered to watch the premier of what Maggie was pretty sure wasn’t actually called The Large Food Truck Competition. Chef Chuck, Jake, and Penny had been away filming for most of the fall. Maggie was very glad they were back. She needed her soon-to-be celebrity chef to start menu planning for the artists’ retreat they were hosting in the spring. Plus, Sunday brunches just hadn’t been the same without The Chuck Wagon.
April and Teddy had driven up from the apartment they’d just moved into in Asheville and were squeezed onto the couch next to Daniel and Maggie. Drew was perched on the back, her bare feet resting on the far arm. Parton, stretched all the way out on his side, took up a significant percentage of the floor. All eight pounds of Teddy’s dog, The Incredible Hulk, were tucked into the crook of Parton's arm. Jordan was cross-legged on the kitchen table, and Penny had commandeered the kitchen chair intended for Chef Chuck, since he couldn’t stop fussing with the snack trays long enough to sit. The other three kitchen chairs were occupied by Miss Lucille, Jake, and Lynn, Daniel’s mother. She was in town, ostensibly for Chanukah. Maggie knew a maternal ruse when she heard one.
If Maggie’s own mother was a hurricane, Lynn was more of a babbling brook. Her approach was slower and gentler, but she knew how to get what she wanted. She could carve a path through stone. It was insidious, how absolutely genuinely nice she seemed to be. Maggie was beginning to see where Daniel got it from.
Lynn had flown in from L.A. the previous morning. Daniel had picked her up at the airport, checked her into her chic Asheville hotel, and brought her up to Oak Ridge well in advance of sunset when they would light the candles for the first night of Chanukah. Daniel was cooking—latkes and noodle kugel and sufganiyot and presumably also something with actual nutritional value—and Lynn didn’t want to be in the way. So, somehow (and she still wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her) Maggie had offered to give Lynn a private tour of Blue Harbor’s nearly completed stage one renovations. Just some nice one-on-one time with her partner’s mother, whom she’d just met in person for the first time. (Lynn was, incidentally, much shorter than Maggie had expected from her quietly commanding presence on video chats. Something to do with being a trial lawyer, maybe.)
Maggie, who was usually not particularly invested in being well-liked, had been uncharacteristically anxious in advance of Lynn’s visit. Daniel was closer with Lynn than Maggie was with Kathleen. (Although Maggie was talking to her mother more often than she had in years. Living a few hours apart seemed to be the right amount of distance for them.) Growing up, it had been just the two of them, Daniel and Lynn. These days, he called her once or twice a week, and, when he did, they often talked for an hour. She mattered to him. A lot. And so it mattered to Maggie that Lynn liked her. It was another one of those new Feelings she was coming to terms with.
The tour had gone alright, actually. Maggie was reasonably confident that it had, but Daniel had confirmed it. Apparently, when he’d driven his mother back to her hotel, she’d said she “really quite liked his goyishe girlfriend and her quirky glamping project.” (Lynn, herself, would never be caught dead sleeping in anything you could describe as a cabin.) When Maggie had responded that she “really quite liked his mother, too,” he’d smiled a smile so big and goofily delighted that it made her chest ache.
“Turn it up!” Miss Lucille demanded, and Daniel obeyed just in time to catch the end of the opening montage. Maggie had been watching significantly more food competition reality television lately, and, as the teams were introduced, she thought it was probably a good sign that The Chuck Wagon wasn’t featured too heavily before the first ad break. Those people were headed for early drama.
“The artisanal cereal truck people won’t last past week one,” Miss Lucille announced as the commercials broke in.
“Chuck is not allowed to tell what happens,” Chuck said in a tone that told Maggie a producer had absolutely drilled him on this point for hours. “Surprise is critical for maintaining viewership.” He set down the bowl of slaw he’d been stirring like it had done something to offend him. “I will go get more snacks.” Chuck stepped around the kitchen table and held out a hand to Jake who wordlessly dropped their car keys into Chuck’s palm. Then he walked straight out the door leaving a veritable smorgasbord of snack options behind.
“Alright, we’ll talk later,” Miss Lucille called after him. Maggie’s money was on Miss Lucille knowing the full season arc before morning.
“Should Penny and I be offended that no one’s asking us what happens?” Jake asked.
“They know better than to try,” Penny said in a terrifyingly pleasant tone.
“I do think you have a point about the cereal, Miss Lucille,” Jordan chimed in. “Why would you pay to eat fancy cereal on the side of the road? Lucky Charms are already a perfect food, and you can eat those in the comfort of your own home any time.”
“See, I’ve tried telling April that, but you should see the look I get when I pour a bowl for dinner for the third night in a row,” Teddy said, sounding put-upon. Then he turned to April. “How else am I supposed to maintain this dad bod? You don’t get this kind of physique on boiled chicken and vegetables alone.”
“Lord knows what I see in this doofus,” April sighed to no one in particular. “I can’t explain it, but I love him.”
“I’m telling you, it’s the dad bod. It’s critical to my unassuming charm.”
April rolled her eyes then leaned in and kissed him. “Better stock up on the Lucky Charms then.”
“It’s back!” Miss Lucille announced, quieting the room as the show’s logo filled the screen.
People lingered over the endless trays of food for a while after the credits rolled. Chuck had returned from his urgent snack run most of the way through the episode bearing a platter of skillet cornbread so fresh that it was almost too hot to eat. Maggie had been right that one of the food trucks introduced early on had been the first to get sent home. Miss Lucille tried to start a pool with bets on first, second, and third place, but everyone wanted to bet that The Chuck Wagon won, so she had to limit the pool to bets on the two runners up.
Eventually, the crew all left for their respective homes with promises to meet back there the following week for episode two. Drew offered Lynn a ride back to Asheville, and Maggie could see on Drew’s face the moment she realized that she’d just signed herself up for a thirty-minute heart-to-heart with a woman famous in public defense circles for her cross-examinations. Drew was cagey, even by Maggie’s standards, and she’d seemed particularly so lately. Her divorce still hadn’t been finalized, and Maggie and Daniel couldn’t get a straight answer as to why. Some time alone with Lynn might just solve that mystery. Godspeed to them both.
Maggie and Daniel had spent almost every night together since they’d gotten back from their trip to London to clean out her flat. Maggie had only gotten freaked out once, when she’d realized they’d gone two weeks straight without sleeping apart. And, even then, it was almost like she was going through the motions of freaking out, like she felt like she should be freaking out, even though, actually, she really enjoyed sitting quietly doing work in the same room with Daniel and then serving as his sous chef for dinner and squeezing onto the couch with Parton to eat in front of an episode of Chopped.
After a few days of trying to parse whether she was, or should be, or both was and should be freaked out, she talked to her therapist about it. Feelings, Maggie was learning, were somewhat easier to deal with once precisely identified. This worked well for her. Precision was something she could get on board with. In this case, her therapist, as usual, made a variety of annoying (and accurate) points, several of which were really just direct personal attacks thinly disguised as empathetic questions. It turned out that yes, she was unsettled, but it wasn’t a lack of independence giving her pause, which was what she had assumed. It was the vulnerability of letting herself expect to be included in someone else’s day and letting someone else expect to be included in hers. But she wanted that. (With Daniel. Not with, like, anyone else.) So she resolved to let herself sink into the comfortable rhythm of spending her evenings with him, even if that gave him the power to hurt her by upending their pattern.
Look at her being Good At Feelings.
Well, maybe not Good. More like B+. But showing improvement.
Speaking of things she’d discussed with her therapist… Maggie balanced the final dish on top of the overfull drying rack and turned to Daniel, who was, somehow, eating yet another piece of cornbread as he transferred the leftovers from the platter into a Tupperware.
“Truth or Dare me.”
Daniel immediately set down the container and smiled wickedly. He knew where this usually led, and it looked like he had not a single complaint.
“Truth or Dare, McArthur?”
“Truth.”
His eyebrows rose in genuine shock. Maggie always picked Dare. “I didn’t come prepared with a question. What a golden opportunity. Let me think…”
“I love you,” she blurted out.
Maggie had been wrong. Daniel’s expression had been, at most, surprise. This new one, chin tucked in, mouth slightly ajar, this was shock.
“You don’t have to say it back,” she said quickly. “It’s not a quid pro quo. I just wanted—” But she found herself unable to finish her sentence because Daniel’s tongue was suddenly in the way. And it stayed in the way for quite some time.
When they finally parted, panting, Daniel’s arms stayed around her, holding their bodies close. He pulled back just far enough to meet her eyes. “I love you, too, you schmo. I’ve been in love with you for months.”
“ Months ?” Now Maggie’s own eyebrows were approaching her hairline. “And you kept that to yourself?”
“I thought it might be better to wait a while.” Daniel smiled fondly at her. “I didn’t want to rush you. Or scare you away.”
“That is…” Maggie considered for a long moment. “…very fair.”
“Thank you,” he ducked his head in acknowledgement.
“Ok,” she said, extricating herself from his arms and stepping back. “Truth or Dare?”
That wicked look was back, a deadly combination of a crooked smirk and hungry eyes. It was, without a doubt, one of Maggie’s top five favorite Becker expressions, so she’d learned relatively quickly how to summon it.
“Dare,” he said like it was a challenge. And it was one. Her favorite kind.
“Good.” Maggie smiled, as a familiar teasing tension began to gather just beneath her ribs. “Please get the necktie.”