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“Well, I was planning on making pasta tonight; I think I can keep him out of the kitchen long enough to get that on the table,” I suggest to Gene with a playful expression. “I’ll see if he can handle washing the salad fixin’s effectively.”
“Hey, I’m standing right here,” he says, shocking me when he reaches out to poke me lightly in the side. “You know I can gene splice and do experiments in a science lab you would never—”
He stops abruptly when I start snoring loudly. Gene bursts into laughter.
“Dinner is going to be entertaining,” Gene says as he playfully nudges my arm. “You ready, Gizmo?” he asks as the furry companion jumps up and trots after the man, apparently getting a second wind.
“So, I heard you like to play chess?” I ask Gene as I close the door behind me.
“I used to love it, but then Caleb got so good at it that he wins almost every game,” he says, just as I notice Missy heading in our direction.
“Where are you headed?” she demands, her eyes flickering from Gene to Caleb and then to me.
“Dinner at my house,” I tell her. “Did you need something?”
“Are you going with them?” she asks Gene, which I find a little invasive, but I just roll my eyes.
“Yes, your sister graciously offered to cook for us. Tell me, is she as good a cook as she is a baker?” Gene asks.
“Definitely,” she says then turns to me. “I need to discuss the dresses. I was looking through the pictures we took at the dress shop,” she continues, her face in grimace. “I don’t think the mustard yellow will work for you after all.”
“Oh?” I ask, trying to hide my excitement while Caleb covers a laugh with a cough. “Why not?”
“So, I have this vision board set up in my room,” she launches into an explanation. “I cut out pictures of everyone wearing the dresses, and sweetie, the yellow is not flattering with your—healthy curves,” she says.
“Okay, so green or brown for me?”
“Actually, I found this shade that I think would be perfect,” Missy pulls out her phone and shows me a picture.
“Red?” I ask skeptically.
“It’s more of a burnt auburn,” she clarifies. “And it’s also the style that looked better on you.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” Caleb chimes in, glancing at me. “Much better than a color that looks like it came from a baby’s diaper,” he whispers in my ear low enough that I pray Missy doesn’t hear.
I can’t help but snort with laughter, trying to contain it as best as I can.
“Is that not gonna work for you?” Missy asks, her eyes shifting between Caleb and me.
“Nope, that works perfectly,” I assure her with a smile.
“Okay, I should go then so y’all can get to dinner. Nolan is waiting for me at Mom’s house.” She says goodbye to everyone before leaving. “I’m just a few houses down if you need anything,” she calls out.
“Your parents live on the same street as you?” Gene comments. “Wow, you all must be very close.”
“Well, in a small town like Rustic Ridge, real estate—especially house rentals—is limited. They’ve lived there for close to thirty years now. No matter where I go in town, I’ll always be close to them,” I explain as we walk across the street towards my house.
“I’m grateful for my loft downtown,” Caleb adds. “But I do wish I could be closer to Grandad to check in on him more. Love you, Grandad, but your six-bedroom house with a cook and a maid is just too big—I’ll stick with my smaller loft any day.”
“Six bedrooms?” I question. Sometimes I forget how different our financial situations are until statements like that remind me. “There were five of us living in three bedrooms, and Olivia’s room was practically a closet. I’m grateful for my tiny, two-bedroom bungalow all to myself and, of course, Gizmo.” I glance at the dog, happy to be beside his new best friend. “Gene, you must have some sort of magic touch with animals because Gizmo has never taken to anyone as quickly as he has to both of you. Just remember that you have to leave him behind when you go.”
“I might have to bribe you for visitation rights. And just to comment on what Caleb said, money can buy more rooms in a house, but it’s pretty depressing when they’re all empty and the only people there are paid to be there,” Gene says.
“Grandad, you know you can live with me or I can come stay with you anytime. Just give me a call,” Caleb reassures him. “I never want you to feel alone.”
“I know, Son,” he acknowledges. “I know, and that wasn’t aimed at you, just an observation,” he finishes as we make it to my front door, and I unlock it.
I’m not usually self-conscious, but right now, I can’t help but see my home through their eyes. These are people who probably won’t appreciate my second-hand furniture, DIY projects decorating the walls, or crocheted blankets draped across each piece of furniture. I always thought of my home as a little sanctuary that uniquely reflects me, but right now, I feel vulnerable as Caleb and Gene follow me into the kitchen.
