Page 74 of Pity Play

Our waiter brings over two glasses of champagne. “The Veuve Clicquot pairs nicely with the pâté that will be out in a few moments.”

Lorelai looks nervous, and when he leaves, she mumbles, “I feel like a country bumpkin telling you this, but I’ve never had pâté.”

“You’re in for a real treat then,” I tell her. “When they pair it with champagne it means that it’s delicate and creamy. Which is my favorite kind.”

Lorelai takes a sip and immediately sneezes. She quickly explains, “It’s the bubbles.”Could she be any more adorable?I’m pretty sure the answer to that is no.

“How are things going at your house?” I ask her.

“It’s been busy,” she tells me. “In the few days that you’ve been gone it’s changed so much you’d hardlyrecognize the place.” She giggles before adding, “I even had a wall knocked out.”

“Wow, you’re taking your job seriously. What are your parents going to think when they find out you’re tearing the place down?”

She shrugs. “It’s hard to say. They’ll either think it’s fantastic or they’ll never trust me with anything again. Either way, the house looks amazing, so I’m happy.”

“Have you decided where you’re going to go after it sells?” I want her to say that she’s moving to Chicago, but she’s made it clear that isn’t going to happen.

“I looked at an apartment above the yarn shop,” she says. “It’s cute and I think it might be my perfect next step.”

“You do love yarn.”

“I do.” Her eyes narrow as though trying to discern if I’m making fun of her.

“Do you remember that year you made all of those potholders and put them in your wagon to sell?” I try hard not to laugh because it was such a crazy sight. I mean, potholders door to door. You don’t see that every day.

“I made eighty-two dollars doing that,” she tells me proudly.

“Was that enough to cover the cost of the yarn?”

She teases, “Why? Are you thinking about getting a side hustle?” Then she explains, “I was seven, I didn’t have to pay for my own yarn back then.”

“What did you spend that kind of cash on?” I want to know. “More craft supplies? A red wagon upgrade?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I donated it to the animal shelter. That was when I started volunteering with them.”

“You’ve been helping out at the animal shelter since you were seven?” I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. “Kids don’t generally have philanthropic tendencies so young.”

“I always wanted a dog or cat, but my dad was allergic so this was the only way I could spend regular time with animals.”

“Have you ever had your own pet?” I say, thinking of mychildhood dog, Holly. I can’t imagine her not having been a part of my life.

“I had a gerbil once, and a goldfish, but that’s about it.”

“Why haven’t you gotten one now that you’re grown?” I want to know.

Putting her champagne glass down, she tells me, “I guess I just haven’t gotten around to it. Which I suppose is a good thing. I mean, my dad is still allergic, and I am living in his house.”

“But you won’t be for long,” I tell her. “Maybe you’ll get a friend soon.”

“I might,” she says with a bright smile on her face like the very thought makes her happy. “But I wouldn’t want to leave a dog home alone all day.”

“That’s why I don’t have one,” I tell her. “They become such a part of the family, you’d feel like you were abandoning your child.”

The waiter comes by and puts a plate down on the table between us. “Chicken liver pâté on brioche toast points with a side of onion marmalade.”

“It looks wonderful,” I tell him sincerely.

Lorelai seems more skeptical. When he walks away, she says, “I’m not a fan of liver.”

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