Chapter 27 Hazel
HAZEL
Logan’s making breakfast for dinner when I swing by his place after my shift at Sweet Escape. He’s left the door open so I don’t have to knock. So it feels like I’m not a guest.
I slip into his apartment, leaving my shoes in the foyer.
He’s taken the time to lay out quite the spread on the counter: eggs three ways on a platter.
Homemade sausage patties on a plate. A pitcher of juice.
A bowl of sliced bananas, apples, and blueberries.
Place mats laid out with forks and knives.
My delight turns to surprise when I look at Logan and he’s hatless. He glances over his shoulder at me as he runs his hand back and forth through his hair like he’s not sure what to do with it. It sticks up in several places, like late afternoon bedhead.
“So that’s what the top of your head looks like,” I tease. “It’s very appealing. You should show it off more often.”
“I think it’s time to give that thing a break,” he says, greeting me with a hug and kiss before handing me a ceramic cup. “Half orange, half grapefruit.”
“You remembered.” I chug half of the bittersweet blend.
“How could I forget? Waffle batter’s resting.
I’ll make them when we’re ready to eat. Should be quick.
You want whipped cream on top or on the side?
” he asks, hand-whipping heavy cream in a bowl.
It’s tucked between his cast and a towel, snuggling it in place.
Nothing will slow this man down, not even a broken wrist.
“Side, please,” I say, admiring the food.
The sight of it all and Logan in his checkered apron cooking for me while Matchbox Twenty plays in the background only deepens my feelings for him. It solidifies the decision I’ve worked through in the past few days.
I can envision future nights like this. Making a home. Building a life together.
It’s what I want. Now it’s time to make that happen.
I walk over to his side of the kitchen. “I have something for you,” he says, right as I say, “I need to make a call.”
“A call?” he asks.
“Yes. And I was hoping you could be here with me during it.” I’m more nervous saying it out loud than I had practiced in my head.
I could’ve made this call alone. It’s a part of my life I’ve hidden from everyone I’ve ever been with. But the thing is, I don’t want to do this on my own anymore.
I don’t want to hide what the realities of my life look like from Logan. I’ve wondered why this is. Why is this relationship different? The best answer I could think of was that, before we knew anything basic about each other, we knew each other’s futures. What an odd thing that is.
“Anything you need,” he says right away, without knowing the context. He pauses his whisking. “Is someone from the press reaching out about the lottery again?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” I set my phone on the counter. “I need to call my dad. I thought about going to the house, doing this face-to-face. But last weekend was so awful, and I know how the dynamic works.” I shake a list I had tucked away in my back pocket. “And I have notes.”
Because I’m nervous. Because I hate that I even have to do this.
Logan sets the bowl of half-whipped cream next to the waffle maker and turns off the music. “We’ll do this however you want,” he says, still in the dark about the details. He places his palm against my neck and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “You’re not alone in this.”
I turn my head to kiss his inner wrist before pulling back. “Wait, did you say you had something for me?”
Logan wipes his hands off on his apron. “I do,” he says, walking to the closet in the hallway. He pulls out an object with a sheet draped over it.
He walks whatever it is over to the counter and sets it down in front of me.
“What is it?”
Logan smiles. “I could tell you, or you could just open it.”
I pull off the sheet, revealing my grandparents’ lake house that’s the size of a dollhouse. He… he must’ve built this for me.
I open my mouth and then close it. That happens a few more times. “I…” Tucked inside the house is an envelope. I slide out two tickets for Wicked.
“Was it too soon?” he asks. “I didn’t want to be all secretive, but I understand if this is too much.”
“Too much?” I manage to squeak out. “It’s… it’s incredible.”
Better, actually. Because this house, it’s mine.
He’s captured the mash-up of my grandparents’ cottage and cabin. The gingerbread trim is in the same spots as the real thing. The wraparound porch has the exact angles. The bay-windowed dining room that juts out toward the lake is right there. He’s even included the dock.
The only difference with this version is that he included scallop siding. Like a mermaid’s house.
“You didn’t even see the lake house until last week,” I say, confused.
“You described it to me at the firehouse.”
“That’s when you started this?” That was before I knew about the pre-foreclosure. He was going to make this no matter what.
“I figured, even if you did one day own it, why wait until then when you could have a mini version of it now?” Logan says.
It’s possible I’ve just fallen in love with Logan all over again.
“I have the house and the city,” I say, more to myself. This gift unleashes a scratchy throat. A rush of tears.
I let them fall. Logan pulls me to him as my tears soak into his green and orange tie-dye shirt, little wet spots spreading on his chest.
“Your clothes are just my tissues and napkins at this point,” I laugh out.
“I can’t think of a better use for them,” Logan says, gently running his thumbs over my cheeks. “Did you want to eat first or make the call?”
I clear the tickles from my throat. “Call, definitely. I don’t want this hanging over my head for any longer than it has to.”
I set my phone next to the miniature lake house and dial Dad. It takes three tries to finally get him to pick up his phone.
“Jerry and I just got pizza. Game’s about to start,” Dad says as soon as he answers. “Can this wait?”
“I need to talk to you now,” I say, swallowing. Before I lose my nerve. “Both of you, actually.”
“Fine, but hurry. This is the fourth game of a parlay I have going, and I gotta pay attention.” The volume on the TV on the other end of the line lowers. “And before you get all huffy, the cashier forgot to charge me for my soda. I told you, my luck’s back.”
“O-kay,” I mumble. “Sure.”
“Putting you on speaker,” he says. “Have you finally come to your senses?”
I inhale deeply and then let out the breath in one long whoosh. “I have.”
And then I tell them my plan. The one I went back and forth between so much that my head spun. The one I lost several nights of sleep over. The one I know won’t go over well, but that I think will be best for everyone.
“I’m not going to pay off the missed payments for the lake house,” I start.
The metaphorical Hello Kitty Band-Aid has been ripped off.
“You’re not—Then what’s this grand plan of yours?” Dad asks, his tone still light.
My next intake of air is shaky. Logan senses it and squeezes my hand. I glance down at my handwritten notes, waiting for oxygen to do its job. “We’re going to let the house go into foreclosure,” I say on a calmer, steadier exhale.
“Wh-What do you mean, go into foreclosure?” Dad asks, coughing out what must be his free soda. “It’s where I live. You’re not—you’re not kicking me out, are you?” He laughs a little like the idea is preposterous.
“The house is too expensive to maintain. We won’t be able to fix it up, either.”
Dad grunts. “I almost fell on those stairs the other day, though. You’re not thinking clearly. This is a mistake. You could pay for it all and then some if you wanted. You won millions!”
“I actually couldn’t.” I don’t go into specifics. “And that’s not how I want to spend the money. This isn’t my problem to fix.”
Just like Dad can’t control the outcome of the games he bets on, I can’t control him.
But this? This I can control.
“When your grandfather built the house, he didn’t think about the future,” Dad says.
“He didn’t think about how hard it would be to find people who have the skills to fix real craftsmanship.
Homes are built fast and cheap now, but that’s why this home is so special.
It meant a lot to your mom, and it means a lot to me. ”
It takes everything in me not to bark out a laugh. If the house meant something to him, it wouldn’t look the way it does.
“And it means something to Jerry. Right, Jerry?” Dad adds.
For the first time the entire call, Jerry mumbles a “yeah.”
“This house is part of the family. You can hand it down to your kids one day. Don’t you want that?” Dad asks. “I can’t believe you want to let it go, just like that.”
It’s not just like anything.
Dad continues talking, trying to convince me. I let him get it all out. I know this is a lot. I’ve just gotten started.
“All your summer memories you say you loved so much,” Dad says.
“I hope it’ll go to a family who loves it just as much,” I say, having accepted that my dreams existed because of the circumstances. “I want nothing more than for it to go to people who can make happy memories in it, just as Grandma and Grandpa wanted. I think they’d like that.”
“Do you really wanna do this, Hazel?” Jerry asks.
“This is your home,” Dad says, borderline pleading.
“Actually, I have a home,” I say, sliding closer to Logan. “And it’s not the lake house. Not anymore.”
“Well, I own the house, and I don’t agree to that,” Dad says.
“Then you can pay off one hundred percent of the mortgage,” I say. “It is your house, and it’s in your name. The responsibility falls on you.”
“You know the Powerball only got as big as it did because of people like me, right? Your whole life you’ve always hated gambling, and now you do it?
Hypocritical is what that is. You know you wouldn’t have that money if it weren’t for me, right?
” Under Dad’s flippancy, I hear desperation.
“Think of this as a return or a thank-you.”