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The entire kitchen erupts in laughter. Loudest of them all is the deep, baritone of Jesse Swagger. Grandfather. Or as he’s now agreed to let me call him, Pee Paw.
We, along with the kitchen staff, have spent the past half hour making fun of all the Miss Sims at the party. The employees had some interesting stories to share. I, of course, had mine. And Pee Paw simply listened. He shook his head in disgust at some of the things the women had done, and laughed heartily when they got back a little bit of what they gave—which seemed to always be the case.
But before the staff had returned and the fun times began, I told Pee Paw everything. From start to finish. Again, he just listened. Once the truth was out, we’d talked about my life back in Mississippi. My mother. My writing. The ups and downs of living in a small town.
Then he’d opened up about his life. About his late wife who passed when Jake was only two years old. About his son, Jake’s father, who’d married Jake’s mother, his high school sweetheart, his first year in college. That he was an English Professor who didn’t have a corporate bone in his body. And, along with Jake’s mother, had joined the Peace Corp later in life and was now teaching English to children in a village in Africa.
I’d had so many questions. I wanted to know about Jake’s childhood. When the last time was that he saw his parents. Were they close? Did he have commitment issues? On a scale of one to ten, what were my chances of getting him to marry me?
But then the staff returned. In the few seconds we had left alone before they made it to us, Pee Paw took my hand in his. Fixed me with a thoughtful gaze. And did something I’m sure a man like him has only done a few times in his life.
Apologize.
He told me he was sorry for accusing me of, basically, being a whore. And for treating me as such by insinuating I had no dignity, lacked intelligence and was beneath him—a man who made an honest living.
I accepted his apology.
A bond was formed.
And now I’m pretty sure he loves me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he started sending me birthday cards with hundred dollar bills and telling people I’m his long lost granddaughter.
A throat clears.
Silence descends.
I don’t have to look to know it’s Jake standing behind me. He has the typical That Guy presence—the kind that can be felt before it’s seen. I glance over my shoulder anyway. Because it’s been a while since I last saw him. And though I’ve spent the past hour staring at the older version of him, there’s nothing quite like the real thing.
His gaze moves to me, perched on my stool. Cold bottle of Bud in my hand. Legs crossed. Split in my dress exposing an indecent amount of thigh. Then he looks over at Grandfather. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled up. Tie loosened. Beer in hand. Lit cigarette dangling from his lips. Leaned back in a swivel chair he’d snagged from the employee lounge.
Jake takes in the rest of the room—wait staff, chef and prep cooks in white coats all sipping whiskey or beer. Sitting on counters, milk crates and a couple leaned causally against the wall. Eventually, his eyes find me again.
“Penelope.”
I nod. “Jake.”
I applaud his stoic expression. For the most part, he appears unaffected by the scene before him. But I can see the questions in his eyes. The uncertainty. The burning need to storm over to me, grab me from my stool, haul me in the cooler and demand I tell him what the fuck is going on.
Then check my temperature with his big thermometer…
Grandfather stands and unfolds the sleeves of his shirt. “It’s been a pleasure, but I believe it’s time for me to get back to my guests.” He fastens his cufflinks and takes the jacket offered to him. “Thank you, Geoff. It’s been a pleasure. As always.”
“Pleasure is mine, Mr. Swagger. Congratulations on your retirement.”
They shake hands. Grandfather makes eye contact with each employee, silently acknowledging them with a nod. Which I find sweet. Then he turns to me as he straightens his tie. “How do I look?”
“Like a stud.”
He glances at Jake and smirks. “Hear that? I’m a stud.” He shoots me a wink, gives one final nod to the room and with a breath, transforms from cool Pee Paw, to Jesse Swagger. “I’ll be making my speech in ten. I expect you there,” he says to Jake as he crosses the room. He pauses when he’s next to him and leans in to say something I can’t hear.
I nearly fall off my stool in an effort to listen. Jake’s eyes lift to me as Pee Paw claps him on the shoulder then strolls out of the kitchen.
