She’d never grilled fish, so she didn’t know the particulars, but it smelled delicious. He took up the fish on a waiting platter and they headed inside, his free hand resting on the small of her back in an effortless, familiar gesture.
They walked into the kitchen and she saw that he’d set the table and placed a small vase of flowers in the center. He laughed. “Still don’t have those placemats and cloth napkins that Brooklyn was complaining about. But knowing my sister, I’ll have them the next time they visit.”
“It looks lovely,” she assured him. She slipped into a chair as he dished up the meal and sat down across from her. The meal was delicious. The fish was delicately seasoned to perfection, the salad crisp with a tangy dressing, and the potato casserole perfectly done and piping hot with a crispy layer of crumb topping. “This is all so good.”
“Thanks. I’m not the world’s best cook, but I do cook a lot. Much prefer it to going out to eat.”
“I eat out all the time in New York. Or grab take-out. I’ve been experimenting with recipes and doing lots of cooking since I got here and have more time. I’m really enjoying myself.”
“I’m usually a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Usually baked potatoes or sometimes I dice them up and fry them.”
“My grandmother taught me how to make potato pancakes from leftover mashed potatoes. Really yummy.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had them.”
“I’ll have to make them for you.” And just like that, she’d almost invited him to dinner. She paused, then continued. “Would you like to come for dinner tomorrow night?”
He grinned at her. “If we keep this up, we’ll be having every dinner together.”
“We might.” That idea didn’t bother her a bit.
“I’ll be there.”
After they finished their meal, they cleared the table, but he insisted he’d do the dishes later. They headed back outside to enjoy the sunset. He lit candles in the lanterns lining the deck, and they cast a magical light in dancing patterns on the worn planks.
“Here, let’s sit on the glider.” He motioned to the loveseat-sized glider fashioned to look like a double-sized Adirondack chair.
They sat down, side-by-side, and he gently pushed them, setting the glider into a gentle swaying motion. “This is nice,” she said. “And it’s really comfortable.”
“Thanks. I made it. I think it’s Brooklyn’s favorite place to sit.”
“So you do woodworking besides just carvings?”
“Some. Made a baby cradle for Brooklyn and a toy chest. Oh, and a rocking horse.”
“You’ve got quite a lot of talents with wood then, don’t you?”
“I do like working with it. Finding the perfect piece of wood. The grains in different types of wood. How it takes stains.”
“Well, it’s not the same, but I learned to knit this week.” She laughed. “Darlene taught me, but I’m not very proficient at it. She’s going to work with me some more next week.”
“My mom was a knitter. She loved it. I swear she could look at any knitted item and make it herself—with improvements. I still have an afghan she knitted me and a hat. And a sweater that no longer fits, but I can’t seem to give it away.” He shrugged. “Maybe Brooklyn will wear it one day.”
“I’m sure she’d love that. The connection with her grandmother.”
“I’m sorry Mom wasn’t around to get to meet Brooklyn. She would have loved being a grandmother.”
“I bet she would have.”
“I know it’s been years, but I still miss her.” His eyes were lined with pain, maybe softened over the years, but pain still lingered. He took her hand, their fingers intertwining. “But then, you know what I’m talking about.”
“I do. I miss my mom, my dad, and my grandmother. I guess especially Nana. It was just the two of us for so many years. We were so close. Maybe even brought closer by her Alzheimer’s disease. Fighting it together. Adapting to life as she declined. I just wish… I wish I could have helped her more. Stayed with her longer.”
“I’m sure she appreciated all you did for her.”
They sat in silence for a while, each one lost in their memories. She finally rose. “I should go. It’s getting late.”
He stood beside her. “Is it wrong to say I don’t want you to leave?” A hint of vulnerability laced his words.
