Chapter 34
Thanks to my proximity to the Activity Center, I catch up on a few emails, check in with my dad, who has sent me multiple photos of my new shiny office, and message Linda from HR about drafting a position for Content Creation and Photography.
After our conversation this morning, I wanted to offer the position to Mira then and there, to ask her to travel the world with me, to work beside me, and to help turn my father’s career into my dream job, but I knew she wouldn’t accept it.
She said she wanted time to figure out what she wants for herself and I respect that.
But after this is all over, I’m going to remind her that the offer will always be on the table.
From the kitchen window I see a crew of fifty milling about the ranch, hauling wooden tables and chairs onto the lawn, and stringing thousands of twinkling lights inside the sprawling white tent.
Amelia follows them, clipboard in hand, no doubt making sure everything is to my mother’s exact specifications.
Susan hasn’t bothered to show her face on the property herself, most likely entertaining a beauty team of fifteen at the lodge.
But her absence is probably for the best. Meredith deserves to have a stress-free morning.
Sipping a cup of peppermint tea, I consider killing the next few hours reading until I see Vivianne struggling out on the lawn.
She’s carrying two buckets of flowers down the hill, her shoulders sagging under the weight. I make my way over to her to help.
“Need a hand with that?” I ask as she sets one down.
“That’d be wonderful,” she replies, wiping sweat from her brow.
“You didn’t pick these all by yourself, did you?”
“No, no,” she says, swatting away the idea. “Grant did. Early this morning. He filled about thirty of these buckets too. Guess he wanted to make sure there was enough for the arrangements.”
I try to mask my shock. Grant doing anything without personal gain is a new experience for me, but I’m glad to know that he’s growing.
“Meredith always told me that he would do anything to make her happy but watching him get sunburnt in that field really proves it.”
“Why didn’t he bring the buckets down here himself then?” I ask, placing them at the entrance of the tent.
“Oh, we were hiding them at my place. Afraid Susan might get one of her henchmen to sabotage them.”
“Makes sense,” I reply, sympathetically.
“A little birdie told me you were the one to give Grant that shiner he’s walking around with.”
“Not my best move,” I admit, knowing that Mira’s going to have to spend hours Photoshopping it out.
“Perhaps it’s what needed to be done,” she assures me. “Bottling up emotions like that isn’t good for your health.”
“I don’t think punching him was good for my health either,” I say, stretching out my hand.
“Who knows, maybe this was just the thing you needed to move forward.”
“Maybe,” I shrug, not putting too much stock into her assessment.
“I think this is a new chapter for you,” she beams, taking a few stems from the bucket, admiring them together, before adding another.
“I can feel it. Your energy has shifted. It’s much lighter today.
As if you’ve let go of what was holding you back.
Perhaps so you could move on with a certain photographer. ”
I raise a questioning eyebrow at her.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised. It doesn’t take a psychic to see your connection with Mira,” she replies mysteriously. Then adds, “Plus I saw you two sneak in the cabin together last night.”
“Ah,” I say, handing her the pair of shears she’s reaching for on the table.
“It’s okay, dear. I should have warned you that your relationship with Katherine was never going to work. A Virgo and a Sagittarius. Outrageous pairing.”
“What about a Virgo and a Taurus?” I ask, recalling the daily horoscopes Lilah would read for us at the bar.
“Two earth signs!” Vivianne squeals in delight, clasping her hands together, causing her bracelets to clang. “That’s harmony.”
I’m elated to know that the stars are on our side, as Amelia stalks up to us, stress written all over her face.
“What are these?” she asks, inspecting the wildflowers as if we’ve just hauled a herd of livestock to the wedding. “It doesn’t matter. They have to go. We have a shipment of roses coming in momentarily and—”
“Send ’em back,” Vivianne says with a stern authority I’ve never seen before.
Amelia stands back flustered. “But Susan said . . .”
“My niece wants wildflowers for her wedding so she’s getting wildflowers,” Vivianne replies, grabbing a pair of shears from the bucket, wielding them like a weapon. I watch the struggle on Amelia’s face, as if she’s weighing up whether this is worth the fight.
She concedes, rubbing one of the petals between her fingers. “But if Susan asks, I’m sending her straight to you.”
Vivianne gives her a solemn nod in return before Amelia flees to the other side of the tent to micro-manage more vendors.
“I don’t mind helping if you need an extra hand,” I offer, watching as she begins gathering flowers into simple bouquets, cutting the stems and placing them into glass vases on the tables.
“I’d appreciate that,” she says, resting her hand on my shoulder. “And I’d also appreciate help with the rest of those buckets.”
After I’ve hauled the flowers into the reception space, Vivianne hands me a pair of scissors and I get to work. We spread the variety of Indian blanket flowers, blue Rocky Mountain columbine, and purple daisies evenly, until the tables are alive with color.
Once we’re finished I head back to my cabin to freshen up and find Grant waiting on the steps. He’s halfway ready, in dress pants and a button-down, but his hair is wet and his eye is a mess of purple and yellow. I await retaliation, but he just asks, “Can we talk?”
“Sure.” I open the door to let him in.
He looks around, assessing the place. “So, you took over the parents’ cabin?”
“I thought it was the best option, considering,” I reply, letting the events of last night hang in the air.
“About that.” Grant rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s not what you think.”
“I know,” I say, taking a seat at one of the barstools in the kitchen. “Mira talked to Meredith.”
He’s fidgeting, and this nervous energy is making me uneasy.
“I need you to know nothing ever happened when you were together. I know we’re not on the best terms but I’d never do that. Bro-code and all. But Katherine came to me last night, crying about you. She said you were over. I shouldn’t have crossed that line and I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t punch you because of Katherine,” I explain as the guilt lifts from Grant’s shoulders.
“You didn’t?”
“No. We’ve been over for months. She can sleep with who she wants. If I’m being honest I think I’d just been waiting for an excuse to punch you for years.”
“I get that,” Grant says, taking a seat on the couch across from me.
“I’ve been an asshole to you. And that’s not fair.
I’m not saying this as an excuse or anything, I know that my actions are my own, but growing up in that house, you have no idea what that was like.
You got to go home, but I got Susan twenty-four-seven.
” Grant’s shoulders slump as he takes a deep breath.
“I lost my mom. My best fucking friend. And then within a year, this woman came in and tried to take her place. I didn’t want her. I didn’t want you. I just wanted my mom back.”
His vulnerability reminds me of the glimpses of Grant I used to see.
The one I shared popcorn with in the game room when George and Susan were arguing.
The one who lent me his Game Boy when mine fell from the treehouse and cracked in half.
The one I’d catch sitting up on the roof late at night, staring up at the stars.
And as if a glamour’s been removed, I see it, the armor he’s been wearing all these years, rusted and cracked, worn with age, as it slowly slips off and away.
“It’s okay,” I say, but Grant shakes his head.
“You didn’t deserve a mother like Susan. Neither of us did, and that’s a lot to handle. I was conditioned to accept her, because it was all I knew, but you knew there was something better and that’s not fair to you.”
We sit in silence for a few moments.
“These are probably the most words we’ve said to one another,” I say, trying to recall the last time we had a real conversation.
“What can I say, I’ve grown up, man.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that Meredith has me going to therapy.”
“Really?” The admission catches me off guard. “That’s amazing.”
“I resisted at first. But Meredith told me that if our relationship was going to work we had to communicate effectively, and I took that shit to heart. I mean, your mom and my dad never talk. She asks for the Black Card and he hands it over. And I didn’t want that life. I wanted a real partner.”
I remember all the years we endured awkward dinners, Susan chatting to friends on the phone as George typed emails on his phone or read the paper. It definitely wasn’t the basis for a healthy relationship by any means.
“And it’s nice being able to talk to someone about anything. It made me see a lot of shit differently. And it’s really made me and Meredith make a deep connection.”
“I bet,” I jest, as Grant nudges my shoulder.
“I never thought that anyone would accept me, or understand what’s going on in my head, but Meredith does.
She listens. She supports me. And most importantly, she calls me on my bullshit.
Like how I’ve been a shitty brother to you.
” Grant turns towards me, in earnest. “You always put in an effort. You always tried and I never let you in.”
“I could have tried harder,” I argue.
“You did more than I deserve,” he replies. “Like I know you got us that permit for the wedding.”
I rake my hand through my hair. “You know about that?”
“Amelia told us. Said that if you hadn’t pulled some strings we would be getting married in the backyard here.”
“It’s not a bad view.”
“No,” Grant sighs, “but it’s not what Meredith wants. And you made that happen.”
I’ve never shied away from talking about my feelings, but talking about them with Grant is like seeing a corpse flower into bloom, a rare phenomenon.
“I get if it’s too late, but I do want to say I am sorry for the way I treated you growing up. For taking out my issues on you. For everything really.”
There’s a tenderness to his words that makes me believe he really means it.
“I totally understand if I was too much of an asshole, but I would really like to be brothers.”
I allow myself a moment to process what he’s saying. What he’s asking for. And after everything this weekend I have to believe in second chances.
“We can still try.”
Grant stares at me, disbelieving.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I nod, “I’ve always wanted a brother.”
Before I even know what’s happening, Grant hops up from the couch and wraps his arms around me. Grant clears his throat as he pulls away. “Now then, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to have my brother come and get ready with me and the rest of my friends.”