Chapter 30
THIRTY
[Love] means having joy with your friends and family.
From the sticky note correspondence of Gilbert Dalton and Ellie Sterns:
Gil—
There’s leftover meatloaf in the fridge. Feel free to have some.
—Ellie
Eleanor—
The meatloaf was good.
—Gilbert
P.S. Pick a day to go through Ollie’s room. Please.
Gil—
There’s leftover chili in there too. Have at it.
—Ellie
P.S. Maybe next week.
Eleanor—
Do you ever make pork chops?
—Gilbert
P.S. Maybe I could start without you.
Gil—
You should just eat dinner with Oliver and me tomorrow. 5:30p.m.
Don’t be late or all the pork chops will be gone.
—Ellie
P.S. Do not go through his room without me!
I set the serving plate piled high with breaded pork chops in the center of the table. It joined the mashed potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts. I gestured to Gil and Oliver who were already seated. “Let’s eat.”
I typically brought home leftovers from the café for us to eat.
Saved me from having to cook a full dinner, especially just for Oliver and me.
But I’d wanted to make Gil pork chops as a thank you for changing my oil and the other little things he’d done around the house.
That was it, I swear. A home-cooked meal was an excellent way to endear him to me and this house. It was part of my plan. That’s all.
Oh, fine, maybe a teeny-tiny part of me wanted to impress him, to make something special just for him. Why? I don’t know. My brain was making weird decisions where Gil was involved lately. To say my feelings toward Gil were confusing would be an understatement.
Sunny tried to tell me that maybe I should see where these feelings led. Then we’d had a whole different discussion involving the other times in my life I let my feelings lead me. For example:
Impulsively running off to Los Angeles the day after high school graduation because it sounded exciting? CHECK.
Dating that one guy because I loved that he called me “Babe” for almost three months only to realize he called me that because he didn’t know my name? CHECK.
Letting my drummer boyfriend move in after the first date because I was pretty sure it was love at first sight only to watch him move out after he knocked me up? DOUBLE CHECK.
My feelings were not to be trusted. Period.
I slid in my seat and helped Oliver load his plate. He happily took a pork chop and the potatoes but wrinkled his nose at the Brussels sprouts. “Do I have to eat those?”
“Yes, sir. What’s the rule?”
He sighed with all the fervor of a six-year-old. “We have to eat one green thing for dinner.”
Yes, I did take that parenting tip from Sleepless in Seattle . Why reinvent the wheel?
“Bingo.” I spooned two on his plate.
Gil reached for the bowl of Brussels sprouts. “You made baby lettuce.”
Oliver giggled. “Those aren’t baby lettuces, silly.”
“They aren’t?” Frowning, Gil speared a sprout and held it up to eye level. “Nope, that’s a baby lettuce. We had these all the time when I was a kid. These, and baby trees.”
“Baby trees? We don’t eat baby trees.”
“Some people call it broccoli but that’s because they don’t know they’re secretly baby trees.” He nodded to the bowl of Brussels sprouts. “Just like those are baby lettuce in disguise. They’re like the Superman of vegetables.”
I covered my mouth to hide my smile.
Oliver’s eyes darted between the vegetable in question and Gil, looking more curious than suspicious.
Gil reached for Oliver’s plate. “If you aren’t going to eat yours…”
“No. Wait. I’ll eat them. See?” He picked one up (with his fingers, no less) and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. He chewed slowly, his face going through a myriad of expressions—disgust, resignation, victory. After swallowing, he grinned.
“Pretty good, huh?” Gil said.
To answer, Oliver shoved another one in his mouth.
The Superman of vegetables? I mouthed after catching Gil’s eye.
It worked, right? He shrugged and took his first bite of pork chop. It was a family recipe and one I’d grown up eating. His eyes slid shut and he almost, almost smiled.
At first the conversation was stilted and awkward, but Oliver quickly took the reins. He shared about his day and silly new jokes he learned and a new dinosaur he’d discovered and about his “girlfriend,” Darla.
“Don’t you think you’re a little young to settle down?” I asked.
“I love Darla,” Oliver said with rock-solid conviction that was impressive.
I set my fork down and made a mental note to figure out which little girl Darla was, and fast. “Love? That’s a big word.”
“’I love her,” Oliver said with a firm nod of his head. “’Cause she always gives me her chocolate pudding at lunch and she liked dinosaurs too and she’s pretty and that’s why I love her and I’m gonna grow up and get married to her.”
Gil coughed to cover a laugh. “That seems like a big commitment.”
Oliver’s expression turned thoughtful. “I have to get big first and save up lots of money to buy us a house. It’s going to have a slide in the backyard because Darla likes slides the best. Teacher says when you love someone, you do all their favorite things with them even if you don’t like them.
But first Mom has to find a boyfriend and get married and give me a baby brother. ”
I groaned. “Oliver.”
“What?” he said, all innocent big eyes.
“I’ll get a boyfriend when I’m good and ready. And you’re too young to talk about marriage. You need to be at least ten before you start doing that.”
“Your mom has a point. I’m thirty-one and I haven’t given marriage much thought at all,” Gil said.
Oliver gasped. “You’re old.”
“Oliver!” I jumped in. “You don’t tell people they’re old. It’s not polite.”
“Sorry. You aren’t old.” Oliver patted Gil’s arm. “Have you never had a girlfriend afore? My mom needs a boyfriend. I think you should be it. Then you can get married.”
My mouth dropped open, my face burning. Gil’s eyes met mine over the pork chops.
One side of his mouth quirked, and his eyes twinkled in amusement.
I liked when he smiled. I liked seeing those little lines in the corners of his eyes crinkle.
I liked how easy he was with Oliver, too.
I liked how my stomach swooshed and my pulse jumped when I saw any of those things.
That was an awful lot to like about the man in so little time. Especially when I’d been so concerned with not liking him not so long ago.
For one awful, terrible, wonderful moment, my mind imagined another life where we three were a family, huddled around our dinner table as we told each other about our day and laughed at silly things Oliver said.
“Ollie told me all about you, Mr. Gil. He said you would be a good boyfriend for my mom. He said you two should meet one day and he was going to make it happen come hell or high water.” Oliver paused and gave me a sheepish look.
“Don’t get mad at me ’cause I said hell. I’m just saying what Ollie said.”
There were very few times in my life where I could say I was speechless. But this was one of them. After several beats of silence, I touched his arm, keeping my voice gentle. “Oliver, what do you mean, Ollie said all that? You know Ollie’s in Heaven now.”
“Of course I know that.” He shrugged and stuffed a bit of potato in his mouth. “He tolded me before he went to Heaven. He said I shouldn’t be sad about him going because he wasn’t sad about it. He made me promise.”
I flopped back in my seat, overwhelmed by this piece of news. What did a person say to this? Especially to a six-year-old. Ollie had told Oliver about Gil? How had my kid kept such a secret? And the very idea of Ollie as a matchmaker? I almost wanted to laugh.
He couldn’t have cared less about my love life.
There’d been just once, when I’d broken it off with someone I’d dated a whole month, a nice guy, a guy I’d thought might have potential.
But on our fifth date, he gave me the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech.
Yeah, right. I’d gone into the café after.
Oliver played with his building blocks; I rage-baked.
I’d only been there twenty minutes when Ollie slipped in.
He didn’t say anything, just went about helping me roll out the dough for pie crust. We worked like that for almost an hour, side by side.
Ollie’s silence could drive a person crazy most days but sometimes it was nice to have someone who understood that there wasn’t much to be said.
When someone’s sad or upset, others feel like they need to make them feel better by saying things like, “It will all be okay,” or “This was for the best,” or “God has a plan.” And then in response, I felt like I had to reassure them. “Thank you, I know it will get better.”
But you know what? In the moment, it never felt like it would get better. It was an open wound, and all their comments felt more like they were pouring alcohol on it. Sometimes I just wanted someone to sit beside me and let me be angry or sad or lonely or confused.
And gruff, standoffish Ollie? He’d been that person for me. It was only after I announced I needed to get Oliver home to bed that he turned to me and said six words: “He’s an idiot. It’s his loss.”
I’d been three seconds away from reaching out and hugging the man. But I stopped myself in time. This was Ollie; he’d probably never speak to me again if I did that.
I really missed him.
And I had no idea what to make of what Oliver’s announcement or these feelings about Gil. Time to avoid, and deal with it later.
“I think it’s time for dessert.” Without waiting for a response, I stood up and took up my plate and Oliver’s and practically sprinted to the kitchen.
I took the lid off the container of brownies I’d made last night. That was after searching for a low-sugar, chocolate-but-not-real-chocolate recipe. I cut it into squares and piled them on a plate. With a flourish, I set it in the middle of the table.
“I made banana walnut brownies. No added sugar and made with carob instead of chocolate.”
Oliver’s nose scrunched. “Why didn’t you make the fudge brownies? Those are my favorite.”
“Just eat it, okay?” I set one on his napkin and took a seat, nervous to look over at Gil. Nervous he’d read into these brownies more than he should. They were just brownies. That’s it. They didn’t mean anything significant. I was being kind. That’s all. Because he had changed my oil.
“No sugar, no chocolate,” Gil said quietly. He took one for himself.
I shrugged. “I know you said sugar and chocolate give you migraines. No promises though. It could taste terrible.”
Judging by the expression on his face after the first bite, they didn’t taste terrible at all. His eyes slid shut as he chewed slowly like he was savoring every bit.
Then his eyes opened. His gaze met mine, his eyes soft but no less intense. He didn’t say a word, but my mouth went dry. Hastily, I chugged down the rest of my water.
“Can I have another one?” Oliver asked, brown crumbs marching down his chin to his shirt.
“One is enough for now.” I stood and picked up the plate to take back into the kitchen. As I moved away, Gil’s hand wrapped around my wrist.
“Wait,” he said. His thumb stroked gently on the inside of my wrist where the skin was delicate and extra sensitive. I wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing it. But I knew. A zing of longing hit me in the chest, and it was hard to breathe for one beat, then two. “Thank you.”
With a nod, I tugged my arm from his grip, feeling like I’d been bowled over by a tornado in the last fifteen seconds. Because I’d just made a discovery.
I liked Gilbert Dalton.
Not just liked, but liked .
Panic prickled the back of my neck. In the kitchen, I set down the dishes and pinched myself. That was easier than pounding my head into the nearest hard surface. I could do that later in the privacy of my own room. My mind raced at breakneck speed toward the worst possible scenario.
Catastrophizing Level: Expert.
We all knew my feelings could not be trusted when it came to men. Just look at my record. I was guilty of attracting every red flag man in continental USA and probably Canada, too. Europe most likely lived in fear I’d come for a visit.
If I were feeling any sort of soft, fuzzy feelings toward Gil, I needed to get my head on straight.
No, I should not be making meaningful glances at Gil over the dinner table.
I should definitely not admire his toolbelt.
I should not be a little turned on by the school principal energy he gave off when he was annoyed.
I should not be replaying a simple, innocent touch.
I should not be recalling the sound of his voice singing “Amazing Grace” when I laid down to sleep at night.
Lest we all forget, my man picker had picked wrong so many times before.
And the one fact I couldn’t escape…the two of us had very different ideas about what would happen to Ollie’s property in a couple of months.
If he got his way, I’d lose everything I’d worked for during the last three years.
And he’d made no qualms about the fact he was leaving as soon as his six months were over.
Gil Dalton could break my heart in so many ways.
Nope. For once in my life, I would not be relying on my man picker.
And that was that.