Page 87 of Pity Play

“I just left there,” she says. “And yes, they’re selling.”

“They didn’t tell me.”

She doesn’t comment on that. Instead, she asks, “Are you interested in knowing the price?”

“I am.”

She gives me a number. I’m surprised it isn’t bigger, but then again, whoever comes in will want to make their own changes. That will certainly raise their startup costs. Before I can second guess myself, I tell her, “I’ll buy it.”

“Do you want to place a counteroffer?”

“No. Offer full price, just don’t tell them that I’m the one buying.”

I can hear the excitement in her tone when she says, “What fun! Of course I’ll keep your secret. I’ll call them now and tell them that we have an offer.”

“Thank you.”

After hanging up with Anna, I start to wonder what I’ve done. But it doesn’t take long to realize that buying Pop’s is the right thing to do.Capon has done really well without me, which makes it clear they don’t need my constant attention. Not to mention that if I spend more time in Elk Lake then there’s no reason that Lorelai and I can’t date.

Suddenly feeling like a million bucks, I pick up the phone to call my folks. It’s going to be hard not telling them that I not only know about Pop’s, but I’m also the new owner. The phone rings four times before my dad answers. “Luke! Hi! Your mom and I were just talking about you.”

“All good things, I’m sure,” I joke.

“All good things,” he assures me. “To what do we owe the honor of this call?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be home in a couple of weeks. I thought I might stay long enough that we can have our meatloaf cook-off. Maybe even fit in the catfish one.”

My dad sounds genuinely excited when he says, “I would love that! I wasn’t going to hold you to it, though. I’m done pressuring you, son.”

Now that I know he’s selling Pop’s, I’m certain he’s telling me the truth. “I know that, Dad. But listen, I have a favor I need to ask if you don’t mind.”

“Just name it.”

I spend the next few minutes explaining what I need him to do for me. Once I’m done, he says, “This is a big surprise coming from you.” Little does he know, this isn’t the biggest surprise on the horizon. And I can’t wait to share that one with him, too.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

LORELAI

Noah’s place is an absolute pit. Not only did he leave the refrigerator full of expired food, but he left wet towels on the bathroom floor. The whole place smells like mildew.

I open the sliding doors to the patio before grabbing a garbage bag and dumping all the trash into it. Even though Noah’s apartment is gross, it’s also charming in the way of pre-war buildings. The rooms are big, and the ceilings are high. Who knows, I might make a couple of minor design upgrades while I’m here.

I’m not sure if I’ll get around to telling Luke that I’m in Chicago. It’s only been ten days since he left Elk Lake and I’m still feeling pretty fragile as far as he’s concerned. Plus, I’m going to be busy. I have an appointment at the design school this week, and tonight I’m meeting with Trina’s friend, Chip. He wants me to tour his brownstone and brainstorm different things he can do to update it.

Looking at the clock, I realize I don’t have a lot of time to get to Chip’s apartment, so I quickly change into a nice skirt and blouse, before heading out to meet him. I don’t know my way aroundChicago very well, so I’m not sure how long it will take to get from Wrigleyville to the Gold Coast.

It turns out that Chicago traffic is even worse than I thought it would be, and I wind up at Chip’s ten minutes late. Knocking on his door, I admire the exterior of his home. It’s downright elegant and I can only imagine what a shining star it was when it was built well over a hundred years ago.

A tall man wearing tennis whites opens the door. “Chip?” I ask. He’s polished and handsome in the way of a movie star from the nineteen forties.

“Lorelai!” he declares enthusiastically. “Come in!”

I follow him into his home and let out a low whistle. “Wow.” I thought the ceiling height of my brother’s place was impressive, but this is crazy. “Your ceiling must be twelve feet high.”

“It’s great, isn’t it?” He rubs his hands together enthusiastically. “Wait until you see the upstairs. I want to keep its charm, but I’m not a fan of fussy Victorian decor.”

“I hope you plan on keeping the crown molding,” I say as I look up and admire the decorative trim. The chandelier medallions are also out of this world!

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