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“Not even. It’s just the truth.” He leans in and whispers. “Table to your left, four tourists. Not one of those men can take their eyes off of you. Same with these two on the other side. I’m starting to get jealous,” he says drily. “Junior deserves to be single and sad about it for the rest of his life.”
“Speaking of single…is there anyone special in your life?” I ask.
“No, no.” He shakes his head, but the way his expression changes makes me push.
“No one?”
“No one worth fighting for,” he says, the lighthearted tone he’s had all evening sounding flat now.
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“Just a little good old-fashioned rivalry and denial,” Pierre says, shrugging.
“Ooo, do tell.”
“Nothing to tell, trust me. Jack over at The Gnarly Vine likes to pretend my adorable place and I donotexist…like his elegant establishment with its wines and charcuterie boards and his sickeningly perfect white wavy hair are too good for little ole me.” He puts his hands under his chin and gives me a fake smile.
I frown. “You are six feet of fine, Uncle Pierre. Jack’s perfect white wavy hair can’t have anything on you. And what you’ve done to the place—I’ve only ever seen pictures of what it was like before, but this…it’s amazing! Easily the most charming place I’ve ever seen. The detailing in the woodwork, the enchanted forest feel…I absolutely love it. I’m sure Jack is just jealous of his competition.”
He rolls his eyes. “Doubtful. His place is pretty great.” He leans in and whispers, “Callum checks in with me before he places an order at The Gnarly Vine to see if I want anything and then drops mine off before he heads home…it’s a great arrangement.”
My cheeks heat just hearing Callum’s name and how thoughtful he is.
Uncle Pierre smirks and looks around the restaurant once more to make sure no one is listening before he whispers, “Jack is none the wiser. He makes the best wood-fired pizza, but you didnothear that from me. On the rare occasions he comes out of hiding in his kitchen, he claims I’m an overgrown hobbit.”
My eyes widen. “Rude. But…if this is what a hobbit’s house looks like, count me in.”
He sits up straight and his head falls back as he laughs. “Exactly. I couldn’t have said it better myself.” His face is wistful as he glances around his restaurant. “I’d hoped your mom would be running this place with me one day, but…when our parents divorced, she went with Mom…even though she didn’t want to. It was complicated. You knew Grandma well, so I’m sure you have some idea of how difficult the situation was.” He crinkles his nose. “But then your mom met your dad and he stole her heart.”
“I don’t understand why she never came back, not even for visits,” I say. “It always sounded like she loved growing up here.”
“She did,” he says softly. “I think she loved it too much. Your dad had that land in Utah, so that’s where they settled, and once she started doing her thing with the emus there…I knew then she wasn’t coming back.”
“Do you miss having emus?” I grin, hoping it will pave the way for the Dolly conversation.
I had no idea I’d have such a hard time bringing her up.
“Yes, but mostly no,” he says. “It was hard when Dean and Frank died, really hard. They were all I had left of our emu family. But once this place took off and I made the decision to move into my condo, it got so much easier.”
I’m nodding sadly until he says that last sentence. And then I think surely I’ve misheard.
“What did you say?” I lean in. “What about a condo?”
“Oh, just that it helped so much to leave the Heritage house. I’m much happier in my condo now.”
“You sold yourhouse?” My voice shakes slightly and Uncle Pierre’s brow furrows as he reaches over and squeezes my arm.
“Oh honey, sorry, no…” He laughs and gives my arm another pat before taking a drink. “That house is still ours. I’m not pulling a June on you.” He rolls his eyes. “I love my sister, but sometimes…I don’t know where her head is. Don’t you worry—when and if we decide to sell the property, it’ll be a family decision. Anyway…I rent out the house, pretty much full-time to long-termers. The guests that are there now are staying a month, but often I have people in there for the season.” His lip pokes out as he nods proudly. “I’ve done a lot of work on it and it’s beautiful, if I do say so myself. Boho chic, original woodwork, but everything else is modernized. If you’d like, I’m sure I can get you in there to see it.”
“I’d love that.”
“Your mom might have told you the barn was destroyed in a snowstorm a few years back.”
I sag against my barstool. “No, she didn’t.”
“Thatwas a sad day. A huge chunk of our history gone, just like that. I haven’t had the heart to rebuild it…or the time,” he says, chuckling softly. “I wish you could’ve seen it though.”
“I wish I’d found a way to get here sooner. I’ve always wanted to visit…”
