Page 48 of Pity Play

“Is it broken? Can you see bone?” He can’t be serious, but then he hurries to add, “Fine, sit down and put it up, but only for five minutes. No more.”

“Noah,” I say, hoping to remind my brother that he’s on the phone.

“What?” he practically yells before lowering his voice. “If you’re packing up everyone else’s stuff, why can’t you pack mine, too? How long could it possibly take?”

“Mom and Dad are paying me,” I remind him. “You’re not.”

“Would you do it if I paid you?” He sounds desperate and for a moment I feel bad about my surly attitude. The moment passes quickly.

“I would not. Listen, Noah, I know you don’t think I do much of anything, but my life is busy. I’m serious. If you don’t come home within the next two weeks, I’m going to call a charity to come in and clean out your room. The painters need to get in there and so do the guys laying carpet.”

“I’ve got practice every day this week and next …”

I cut him off. “Not my problem. Get here or it all goes.” To punctuate my sincerity, I hang up. A hum of power flows through me and I like it.

Staring at the closet shelves in my parents’ room, I realize I haven’t laid eyes on Luke since our supper together at Pop’s. I wonder if I said something to scare him off. Although, I suppose it’s possible he’s just super busy. Allie mentioned something about the town’s seniors meeting at Pop’s every night this week before their bingo tournament at St. Mary’s. Word is that Faith’s grandmother is up three hundred dollars. She’s using the proceeds to buy more cards so she can take home the thousand-dollar grand prize. She’s promised to use some of her winnings to keep me in yarn.

Thinking about Faith’s grandmother makes me smile. I hope my golden years are spent right here in Elk Lake like MissRosemary’s. Yet, if that’s ever going to happen, I’m going to need to figure out a revenue stream to support that dream. Elk Lake is a resort location in summer, and quickly becoming something of a winter destination as well. As such, rents are not as cheap as you’d think they’d be in a small Wisconsin town.

Walking down the stairs, I look at all the paint chips I’ve taped up on the walls. I’ve been checking them at different times of day to see what they look like in various lighting. Today, I’m going to buy some samples and cover larger areas before I commit to the final shades.

I’m surprised to see Luke when I walk into the kitchen. He’s been leaving the house before I get up, and it’s already past nine. He’s sitting at the table staring across the room like he’s in a trance. “Hey,” I say.

He seems startled by the sound of my voice. “Hey, yourself. It looks like you’re going full steam ahead getting everything packed up.”

“There’s so much to do,” I moan, while pouring myself a cup of coffee and joining him. Instead of asking him where he’s been, I say, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Life has been busy.”

“Is your dad okay?”

“I haven’t seen him a lot, but my mom said he’s been doing so well that he’s being released today.”

“Are you spending all of your time at Pop’s?”

“When I’m not at the diner, I’ve been at my parents’ house getting things ready for Dad’s return.” He explains, “Stairs will be tough for him to climb for a while, so we’re setting up his bedroom in the living room. I’ve rented him a hospital bed, a wheelchair, a walker, and all kinds of aids for the bathroom. It’s a lot.”

“I bet your mom is happy you’re home.”

He looks pained as he answers, “She thinks it’s up to me to get my dad to see the light and forgive me for living in Chicago.”

“Have you tried?”

Luke gives me a sarcastic look. “No, Lorelai, I haven’t. I like being the target of his anger.” He offers a big sigh before looking straight at my face and adding, “Of course, I’ve tried, but the man is not interested.”

I have no idea what to say to that, so I stand up and walk across the kitchen to see if Luke made anything for breakfast. There’s a pot of oatmeal on the stove. “Is there enough for two?” I take his grunt to mean yes, so I fill a bowl before coming back to the table.

Luke says, “I tried cooking for him, hoping that would give us something to bond over, but after the third time, he told me to stop. He said he didn’t want fancy stuff.”

“Did you try talking to him about your restaurant? Maybe the way to his heart is to tell him what you’re doing.”

“I told him on the second day,” he practically spits. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve talked about our memories from my childhood like how we used to cook the fish we caught right on the beach. I’ve waxed poetic about all the fun times we had, but he just turns off.”

“And your mom doesn’t know how you can reach him?”

He shakes his head. “I know she’s upset. She seems as frustrated as I am, but she’s mostly unhappy with me for not making it right with him.”

“What does your dad like to do when he’s not at Pop’s?” I ask in hopes of helping Luke find common ground with his father.

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