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“Digger, did I ever tell you about my friend George?” Jack asks.
Oh, here we go. Pursing my lips, I shake my head. “No, but—”
“—George was a real stubborn ass. You never could tell him anything. This one time, he figured it was still cold enough to take his skidoo out on the lake for one last run before the ice melted.”
“Let me guess, someone tried to tell him not to, but he wouldn’t listen, the ice cracked and he died.”
My grandpa looks offended, as he probably should. I’m being rude. “Nope.Nobodytold him that. Not even Kitty, his wife of thirty-six years, because they all knew he wouldn’t listen.”
“Oh, plot twist,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “But he ended up dead, right? And George is just a metaphor for the fact that I’m dead inside without Harper and the kids, and that I should hop on the next flight out of here and apologize and tell her I love her and that I want to spend the rest of my life with her?”
Jack looks at me for a second, then makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “The ice didn’t crack, George made it home safely. But that night, Kitty added rat poison to his spaghetti. Finished him off right there at the table. She just couldn’t stand the thought of living another day with a man who wouldn’t listen to reason.”
He takes a sip of his drink while Moira and I give each other the “what the hell was that?” look. When he sets his glass down, he says, “But you’re right. You’re also a stubborn ass and you should go find the woman you love and tell her how you feel.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Moira beats me to it. “Don’t waste your breath, Grandpa. There’s no reasoning with this one,” she says, pointing to me with her thumb. “He’s going to say he’s not in love with her and that it would never work anyway, and that Harper lefthimso there’s nothing he can do about it. Oh, and he’s also going to say that she never loved him in the first place because she said that thing about”—and here’s the bit when they both start talking in unison—“‘it was nice getting to know you.’”
“Yup,” Grandpa says. “Obviously, it had nothing to do with the fact that she was just about to embark on a very public, nasty divorce and that the timing was all wrong …”
“And everything to do with her, meaning she didn’t give a crap about him and never did,” Moira continues.
“Did you two rehearse this when I was putting the boys to bed?” My eyes narrow at them.
They both wear innocent expressions that display the family resemblance to a tee. “We’d never do something like that,” Moira says, lifting her mug to hide her face.
“Look,” I tell them. “For a brief time, I thought I might not mind going down that road. But that was when I figured there was a chance Harper wanted to be with me. But I was wrong. She doesn’t, and it’s definitely over.” I turn to my sister. “And you’re right, Moira, she is in the middle of an ugly divorce. Now, if in the future, she were to come back up here, I might be willing to see how things pan out. But since that’s highly unlikely, I’d appreciate it if the two of you would just leave it the hell alone already so I can get back to pretending I never met her.”
Standing, I look at Grandpa Jack. “If you want a ride back, you’d better get up out of that chair and start moving to the door, because I’m leaving.”
I walk to the front entry and tug my boots on. Grandpa is on his feet, making his way over as slow as a two-hundred-year-old turtle. Moira puts his gifts in a bag and passes him. Handing it to me, she says, “She’s not going to come back if you don’t give her a reason to.”
“She’s not coming back, no matter what I do.”
Shrugging, Moira says, “I guess you’ll never know, will you?”
“I guess I won’t.” Dammit. She’s right.
She and Jack look at each other.
“Sounds like he can live with the idea of having chased off the love of his life,” Jack says to her.
“Too bad. He’s been a real bear since she left.”
“Like a grizzly after winter,” Jack adds.
“Could you two please stop talking about me like I’m not here?” I ask, feeling completely irritated. “It’s not as cute as you think it is.” Pushing the door open, I walk out onto the porch. “Thanks for the cake,” I tell my sister while jogging down the steps to the driveway.
“It’s not the cake that’s going to change your life. It’s the advice.”
God save me from everyone who feels driven to stick their nose in my business.
Chapter37
Harper
Dear Readers,
The popcorn is popped and I’m ready to roll. I’m so excited I’ve even pooh-poohed my traditional spray butter for the real stuff, and a lot of it.
