Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
I gave him a grateful smile. “We’ve definitely had enough bad.”
“So true,” Neil agreed.
“Not so fast,” Valerie protested. “Where is my granddaughter?”
“Napping,” I said, and checked the watch I wasn’t wearing. “But I think it’s time for her to get up and see her grandmother.”
“I’ll go and get her,” she offered. “Start without me.”
“All right,” Neil agreed pleasantly. He made a wide sweep with his arm, like a maître’ d in a movie. “Dinner is served in the dining room.”
“Did you cook tonight, Sophie?” Laurence asked as we headed through the formal living room, to the double French doors.
“Oh, no,” I laughed. “I do not cook. That’s really more Neil’s thing.”
“I believe what Sophie meant was, she has neither the skill or inclination to make cooking a worthwhile enterprise.” Was Neil making fun of me? Oh my gosh, was he making a real joke?
“I’m too busy being the breadwinner,” I teased. I was far from it. Neil’s investments alone made more money in an hour than I made in a year. But it was fun to tease him about his retirement.
“I’m a stay-at-home grandfather, now,” he reminded us, giving me a little wink.
This was normal. This was Neil.
I almost resented having to share him with the others tonight, but in reality, they were the reason he was like this. I was sure at least half of his carefree banter was forced to keep from bringing the entire dinner party down, but something in his eyes had changed. He was at ease, even if only for tonight.
I had to be grateful for that.
Despite the down-home nature of the food, the dinner was far from anything I would have seen on the table back home in Michigan. Julia certainly hadn’t used Velveeta in her macaroni, and I know my grandmother would let us all starve to death rather than serve us mashed potatoes garnished with chives. Comfort food is comfort food, though, and I was surprised at how well it did its job. Though we’d gathered for a somber reason, everyone seemed to be in good spirits.
Valerie held Olivia in her lap and fed her little bites of food, and I had to forcibly restrain myself from making any comments about what might not be mashed up enough or good for her tummy. Valerie was a mother, too, and she had just as much right to make stupid little daily decisions for Olivia as I did.
Rudy and Neil and Laurence laughed and joked with each other, and I was surprised to see how well Laurence fit in. I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me. Valerie, Rudy, and Neil had been friends since college; it stood to reason that she would be dating someone with a similar personality.
For the most part, I just listened to the evening. Valerie and Neil told cute stories about Emma growing up. Rudy remembered designing her a gorgeous dress for a formal dance, only to have her choose something “off the rack and looking like a burlap sack”. I didn’t know Emma as a child, and hearing all the tales of how rebellious she’d been from the very beginning fascinated me.
Valerie stroked her hand over Olivia’s blonde curls. “She looks so much like Emma.”
“I was looking through some old albums this morning,” Neil said, his eyes twinkling with fond memory. “Thank god Olivia’s childhood will be digital, otherwise I would have to keep all the photographs carefully separate.”
Huh. I didn’t know that was what he’d been doing. He’d told me he’d gone downstairs for a workout.
“I haven’t been able to look at any pictures, yet,” Valerie said, clearing her throat. Her smile became a shield and a mask all at once. “But I’ll get there.”
“Of course you will,” Rudy reassured her. He patted the tabletop on either side of his completely cleared plate. “You all are going through something, but I promise, there will be a time that you’ll be able to hear Emma’s name or see her picture without feeling just the sadness.”
I supposed I’d never thought of it that way, but he was right. That was how grief worked. Eventually, you got to the point that you could just move on and love the person, without hurting yourself in the process. “That’s really smart, Rudy.”
I expected a snarky response, but he just nodded. “When Burt died, I thought my world had ended. I would never love, again. I would never hear his name, hell, I would never be able to watch Cannonball Run without bawling my eyes out just as hard as I did at my Burt’s memorial.”
Valerie made a face. “Why on Earth would you ever watch Cannonball Run?”
“I’m sorry, who is Burt?” I asked, looking to Neil and Valerie for context cues. They both clearly knew the name.
“Burt was a friend of ours at school.” Neil said, taking a sip from his after-dinner coffee.