20. CHAPTER NINETEEN #2
“Better find out. I know my Gretchie won’t be moving to New York City. She’d break her old man’s heart.”
“I’m sure it’s virtual. I mean, it’s basically sitting in front of a screen all day. Who cares if that happens in New York or on Cape Cod? The work is still the same.”
“Hey, Brady? Do you like crushed red pepper in your pasta salad or should I put it on the side?” Gretchen asks, popping her head out of the slider.
“In the salad’s fine, thanks.”
“Gretchie, did you know about this big fancy New York job your friend here’s got on tap?”
“Huh?” she asks.
Your friend? Don’t love the way that sounds. “You know, the firm I had the Zoom call with a few weeks ago?”
“Yes, that’s right,” she replies. “I didn’t realize they were in New York. Or that they contacted you again.”
Not the right time to go into this, I think. But I don’t want to end up handcuffed to a bench, so I just try to downplay it. “They just called – just now. Said they’d like a second interview.”
“Oh my gosh, Brady! That’s so exciting!” She steps onto the deck and throws her arms around me, then pulls away and plants a big kiss on my lips. Right in front of her father.
“New York is five hours away,” Mr. Andrews adds.
She pulls back. “Is that where the job will be? ”
“The headquarters is in the city. I’m not 100% sure if the job itself is virtual or not.”
“Seems like a question one might ask on a first interview, but what do I know? I’m just a cop,” Mr. Andrews adds.
“Daddy,” Gretchen says. The inflection in her voice pleads with him to ease up on me. “When’s the interview?” she asks.
“Few weeks. We can talk about it later,” I add.
Sensing my discomfort, she attempts to change the subject. “That reminds me. I have my meeting with my advisor tomorrow.”
“When will you get your student teaching placement, honey?” Mr. Andrews asks.
“Hopefully at the meeting. I can’t wait to find out. I hope it’s close by.”
“You put in choices, right?” her dad asks.
“Yeah. They asked me for my top three. So I chose Eastport Elementary, Stony Brook Elementary in Brewster, and Orleans Elementary.”
“In that order?” I wonder.
“Yeah,” she smiles. “I would give my left arm to work at the school I grew up at.”
“Live where you serve, that’s what I always said,” Mr. Andrews chimes in, flipping the steak tips over on the grill. “Did you grow up on Cape, Brady?”
“I did. I’m from Sandwich.”
“Ah. Nice community.”
"Agreed. It was a nice place to grow up."
“Your folks still live there?”
“My dad does, yes. ”
“He’s the chef, Gretchie tells me. I guess that’s where you got your grilling skills from, then?”
I nod.
“You know, we’ve never actually eaten there. The Diamond Excelsior. That’s fancy business.”
“I guess. Sort of overpriced, in my opinion.”
He laughs. “All those resorts are, though. They cater to the tourists.”
Yes… now this I can talk about. “Agreed. Summer people are the single driver of all pricing in the Cape and Islands economy. Just look at the housing market.”
“Were your parents also raised here?” he asks.
“No, sir. Technically, I’m a washashore. My parents moved to Sandwich when I was a baby.”
“Where from?”
“Boston. My grandfather was a chef at the Four Seasons there, which is where my dad did his apprenticeship. As I understand it, my father didn’t want to live in his shadow, so when he got the opportunity to work at the Diamond Excelsior, he packed up my mom and I and the three of us left.”
Mr. Andrews nods. “And where’s your mom now?”
“Dad dy ,” Gretchen seethes.
“What? She’s not – I’m sorry, she hasn’t passed, has she?” he asks me, earnestly.
“No.” I shake my head. “My mom lives in Iowa now. She’s a writer. Moved out there about ten years ago,” I explain.
“Oh.” He nods. There’s a lot he’s not saying in the silence, though .
“Gretchen tells me that you and Mrs. Andrews have quite the whirlwind love story,” I offer, trying to maintain a positive vibe.
This makes him smile. “That we did. Still do. Every day with Annie is an adventure.”
“Aww,” she hollers from the kitchen.
“I’m sorry for the inquisition, Brady. You just need to understand, me and Annie, we just want what’s best for our little girl. Gretchie’s all we got, and she deserves someone who’s going to make all her dreams come true.”
“I agree,” I say. “She’s a very special woman.”
“You know, Dad,” Gretchen says. “They say girls look for a man who reminds them of their father.”
“She’s not wrong,” Annie calls out.
“Well, son,” he says. “If you’re anything like me, you’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy. Because she deserves it.” Mr. Anderson drapes a protective arm around his daughter.
I smile, but I can very clearly read between the lines. That’s a threat, a guarantee, and a challenge all rolled into one.
Gretchen rolls her eyes. I’m sorry , she mouths at me silently.
I inhale, contemplating how to respond. “Mr. Andrews, with all due respect, I’ve learned a lot about relationships from watching my parents go through their divorce.
So I can’t stand here and give you my word that everything between Gretchen and I will be perfect.
I can only promise that I’ll show up, even when it’s hard, or inconvenient, or uncomfortable.
In my experience, relationships succeed or fail ba sed on whether or not both parties make the choice to actively put the other person first, every day, no matter what.
” I rub my hand along the back of my neck.
“For as long as Gretchen will have me, I give you my word, I’ll show up for her. ”
He stands there, frozen. A lump forms in my throat as I try to read his expression. But then, a slow smile plays on his lips. He reaches out and shakes my hand. “Good in my book, kid,” he says, patting me on the back with his free hand. “Good in my book.”