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“No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Do you?”
“Girlie, I like the way you think. None of my grandsons ask me about my love life.”
“And since one is sitting right here, we should change the subject.” Does my grandmother have a love life? Granted, she looks a good ten years younger than her driver’s license states, but that still makes her uh, older. She’s fiercely independent, has been since before my grandfather passed away, and I’ve always imagined her happy on her own. With her attention on Chloe it’s hard to gauge how serious she is.
“To answer your question, I don’t either. I had one great love and that was enough for me.”
“You’re lucky,” Chloe says. It’s impossible not to pick up on the reverence in her soft tone. Whoever hurt her did a good job. Recently, I’m guessing.
“Luck had very little to do with it. More like respect, appreciation, and hot toddies. And I don’t mean the drink.”
Chloe and I exchange a look. I have no idea what my grandmother’s talking—oh hell. My grandfather’s name was Todd. Before I or my grandmother can share that fact, Louis arrives at the table with our lunch.
“Miso-glazed duck with polenta and kumquat chutney,” he announces with authority as he sets a plate down in front of my grandmother. His sous chef places the same before Chloe and me. The presentation is photo worthy, the scent mouthwatering. “And candied sweet potatoes with ginger aioli for sharing.” He puts the large side dish in the center of the table. “I’ll expect a full report when finished.Bon Appetit.”
“Thank you,” Chloe says.
“Yes, thank you,” I say.
We waste no time digging in. As usual, the food is delicious. Sitting on some prime real estate with an ocean view in Santa Monica, Royal is the hottest restaurant in Los Angeles. Celebrities, dignitaries, and a real prince or two have eaten here. Ethan’s worked hard and hired the right people to make it the success it is, and I’m damn proud of him.
Grandmother puts her fork down. “I’m sorry you won’t be joining us for Thanksgiving.”
I’d been wondering when she’d bring that up. “Me, too.”
She shoots me a no-nonsense look. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be staying here.”
“All right, I’m not sorry, but I will miss you.”
“Pfftt.” She waves her hand in the air. “Do I look like a fool?”
“What’s happening at Thanksgiving?” Chloe asks.
“My parents, brothers, and grandmother are spending the week at our house in Hawaii.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy. “And you’re not going because…?”
“I’m starting PT and workouts with my trainer.” Normally by this point in the off-season I’m in the gym every day with Dwayne. One day we’ll work on speed. Other days we’re doing footwork and agility, heavy lifting, endurance. I’m not sure where we’ll start this year given my collarbone is still healing and the doctor has warned me not to do much more than gentle movements with my upper body, but I can’t wait to do something. All this rest is killing me.
“Can’t you start the week after?” Chloe spoons more sweet potatoes onto her plate.
“Excellent question.” My grandmother loves having someone else do her bidding. Maybe bringing Chloe wasn’t such a great idea after all. Now it’s two against one.
“I’m already behind schedule.”
“For a good reason,” Chloe says. “No one works harder than you. I get it. But you don’t want to end up like Upton. He fractured his clavicle and tried to come back too soon. Ended up misaligning the bone and needed surgery to repair the damage. It took him an extra few months before he was back in play.”
“Upton is a pitcher.” One of the best.
“He’s a reliever, and I’d argue your arm is more valuable.”
“This is fascinating,” my grandma says. “I didn’t realize you followed baseball so closely, Chloe.”
“It’s my favorite sport.”
“Mine, too. For obvious reasons.” Grandmother looks fondly at me. “What made it your favorite?”
“My dad.” If Casey were sitting with us, he’d see how fond his daughter is of him by the small, endearing smile lighting up her face. She takes a bite of her sweet potatoes, buying herself time, I think, before she decides to tell my grandmother more about her dad, her mom, and her youth. Not since high school has a woman besides my mom or grandmother carved out a soft spot in my chest, but Chloe is doing so with ease.
