Page 82 of Pity Play

I snort laugh. “It’s just really different at home,” I tell her. “Maybe I lost my edge while I was gone.”

“You do seem pretty relaxed.” Curling her lip, she adds, “It’s kind of spooky.”

“The whole vibe of Elk Lake is pretty chill,” I tell her. “How’s the kitchen been working without me?”

Arching an eyebrow, she answers, “I know you want me to say that you’re indispensable, and while you are wonderful, they didn’t really miss you. The culinary school sent two bodies to fillin and the line cooks stepped up. They did so well, I think there might be a promotion or two in order.”

Part of me thinks I should feel bad for not being missed more, but the truth is I’m glad for it. I’ve been carrying the success of Capon on my shoulders like a huge burden and it’s been exhausting. Maybe that’s how Bobby Flay does it. He actually trusts his staff to run with the ball without him micromanaging every detail.

“I think I’ll stay long enough to get you through tonight’s rush, but then I’ll take off.”

“You’re leaving early?” Her shock makes it clear I’ve been a straight up workaholic.

“I think so,” I tell her. “I’ve recently realized that I need a little more balance in my life. I might even take off two whole days a week.”

She shakes her head in wonder. “Are you thinking about opening another place?”

“I’m thinking about a lot of things,” I tell her. “I just need to regroup first.”

A waiter waves toward Eve, so she stands up. “Welcome home, Luke. It’s good to have you back.” I guess I am home, but having said that, it’s a different kind of home than Elk Lake.

I have a lot to think about, but I don’t really know where to start. I suppose that for tonight, I’ll just jump back in and take it a step at a time. If it weren’t for my parents and Lorelai, I wouldn’t even be questioning what’s next. But if mending fences with my dad taught me anything, it taught me that life should not be a solitary journey. And in order for that to be the case, I don’t get to make all the calls.

Speaking of calls, it’s all I can do not to pick up the phone and call Lorelai. I want to know how she’s doing. I want to tell her all about Capon. But more than anything, I want to tell her how much I miss her and wish she were here.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

LORELAI

I’ve spent the last week tying up all the house details. I’ve recovered the sofa with a canvas slipcover. I’ve reupholstered the dining room chairs with my handy-dandy staple gun, and I’ve purchased some new towels to hang in the bathrooms. When I was a kid, my mom used to call them “company towels,” which essentially meant they were never to be used. In fact, the company towels from my childhood are still in the linen cabinet, and they’re in the best shape of any of them. The only reason I bought new ones is because the colors are kind of dated.

My parents are coming home today, and I can’t wait to show them the transformation of their home. I expect they’ll not only be shocked but also excited by how much more money they’re going to get because of all the upgrades.

At 1:15 on the nose, my mom texts that they’ve left the airport, and they should be home in forty-five minutes. I offered to pick them up, but she assured me that she and my dad are fine taking an Uber.

I hurry to take a shower and change into something nice before they arrive. I’ve even made a plate of sandwiches and somecookies that I baked from store-bought cookie dough. Which are perfectly edible even though my mom claims you can taste the chemicals. She and Luke have a lot in common.

On my way downstairs, I actually jump when I hear the doorbell ring. I’m surprised my parents got here so quickly, because according to the Uber app, they’re still twenty minutes away.

Opening the door, I stand there in shock. “Noah, what are you doing here?”

My brother pushes through the front door and drops a large duffle bag at my feet. “Are Mom and Dad here yet?”

“They should be here any minute,” I tell him.

Walking into the living room, he says, “Then I’ll tell you all at the same time. It’s not a tale I care to repeat.”

I have no idea what’s going on, but I can tell it’s not going to be a good story. “You want some lunch?” I ask him.

We walk toward the kitchen, and he doesn’t even seem to notice that the wall between the living room and dining room has been removed. He doesn’t even comment on the paint job in the kitchen. He merely asks, “You got any salami?”

“Open your eyes, Noah,” I tell him.

He looks from his left to his right before answering, “My eyes are open.”

“Do you notice anything different?”

Shrugging, he asks, “Did you clean? It looks clean.”

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