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“Jack, I’m not about to complicate my life unnecessarily. And even if I were, she lives all the way down in LA and I live all the way up here in Alaska. You might remember how well that arrangement worked for my parents.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I shake my head at him. “It’s not going to happen, so please give it up.”
I’m gifted a few minutes of precious silence while I crack the eggs, add milk, and a splash of vanilla. Just as I start to whisk everything together, Grandpa says, “Did I ever tell you about my friend Carl?”
“No.”Is this a new topic or is it somehow going to loop back to me needing a wife and kids?
“He used to manage the Alaska Pacific Bank branch here in town back in the seventies. Anyway, he was a bit of a ladies’ man when he was in his twenties. He thought he had lots of time to settle down. But then one day, he went for a haircut, and old Harvey Younghusband—do you remember Harvey?”
“No,” I tell him, wondering how long this story is going to take.
Grandpa nods. “Before your time. Good fellow. Anyway, Harvey takes one look at him and says, ‘Carl, you’re losing your hair.’ And Carl—who had this thick, wavy, dark brown hair that he kept long—says to him, ‘No, I’m not.’”
Grandpa covers the huge steel bowl he put his dough into with a folded tablecloth and continues, “So, Harvey sits him down in the chair, then holds a mirror up so Carl can see the back of his head. And sure enough, the hair at the back on top was thinning pretty bad already. Well, Carl panicked, because his dad had been bald as a cue ball by the time he was thirty-five. Carl figured he had his mother’s hair, so he didn’t have to worry, but no dice. While he was sitting in the chair, getting his haircut, he realized, ‘Holy crap, if I got my dad’s hair, I might have inherited the shape of his skull too.’ Which would’ve been bad since his dad’s skull was as odd as they come—oblong instead of round, and real bumpy. He realized that without that thick, wavy hair, his chances of finding a pretty wife were going to be slim-to-none. Especially if hedidhave his father’s head shape.”
Oh, my God. Please stop telling me about Carl’s head.
“Anyway, now Carl’s got this ticking time bomb sitting right on top of his neck, so he starts getting serious about finding a woman. He goes out every night to the pub, to the library, even starts going to a new church every Sunday—searching for the right girl.” Jack walks over to the coat rack next to the screen door and takes his ball cap off it.
“So, did he find one?”
“Two of them actually.” He tugs his cap into place. “But up here the options were even more limited back then than they are now, so he had to choose between an ugly-but-nice girl and a nasty-but-hot one.” He says this last part as if imparting vital wisdom on me.
“And?” I ask, now fully invested.
Grandpa makes a clicking sound with his tongue, then shakes his head. “I forget which one he wound up with. The point is, he waited too long to find someone who was both nice and nice to look at. Funny thing is, he wound up having his mom’s head shape, so he probably didn’t have to rush quite that much. Okay, I’m going to go have a nap while the dough rises. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I stare at him for a second. “Good talk.”
“Don’t forget Carl, son. You’re not going to be young and handsome forever, you know.”
Ah, sothatwas the point of the story. I salute him before getting back to work. I’m now a full five minutes behind schedule, all to find out I’m going to age like everyone else on the planet. I mutter to myself while I finish preparing the waffle mix. “I’m glad I’m not going to be this young and handsome forever. Good. Maybe once I get old and wrinkly with a big paunchy stomach people will leave me alone. I like being single and nothing is going to change that. So there,Grandpa.”
Chapter13
Harper
Dearest Readers,
PUKE!!!
Brett Kennedy is wining and dining his children’s babysitter in a big, bad way. That’s right, couple’s massages, private catamaran trips, lounging by the pool at the Four Seasons Oahu. Insert full body shiver here.
I have no words. Oh wait, here are a few. Abhorrent, abysmal, repugnant, reprehensible, appalling, horrific, atrocious …
Dude, you are not going to get the lady back acting like that. Toss the trash on the curb and go home with your tail betweenyourlegs—not anyone else’s.
Harper, I apologize for my species. The hetero variety of man sometimes needs a sharp knock to the head. Let me know if you’d like some help in that arena.
Dish,
Ferris Biltmore
* * *
It’s been two days since we got to Alaska and I’m starting to think it may be the most relaxing place on earth. Yesterday after a big breakfast of waffles, eggs, and fruit, the kids and I spent the entire day lakeside—swimming, reading, and lying on a big blanket, watching the clouds float by. Evie brought us a picnic lunch. For dinner we meandered up to the lodge for some freshly caught salmon. After that, we all snuggled up in my bed to watchCars 2. The kids have several of their favorite movies already downloaded on their iPad in case of emergency.
The best part is we were left alone the entire time. No one with a cell phone asking for a selfie, no dreaded paparazzi, and, come to think of it, no men—period. Well, except for Grandpa Jack who I won’t count, since he’s somewhere around eighty—a total sweetheart, though. He served supper last night while Digger was helping his sister’s sons build a skateboard ramp at their house.
