“Wine? Scotch?” She paused. “Or we might have some beer in the fridge.” She did keep some beer for the few times her son, Cliff, stopped by.
“Red wine is fine.”
She poured them each a glass and turned to see that Jonah had settled into one of the wingback chairs. Theodore’s old chair, she realized with a start. She walked over and extended the wine, ensuring their fingers wouldn’t brush during the exchange. She took her seat in her favorite chair, across from him.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by Winston’s soft snuffling as he made himself comfortable on his bed in the corner. She took a sip of her wine, letting the liquid steel her nerves.
“You know, I thought about calling to cancel,” he said quietly. “I know you want to take things slowly and you’re a bit unsure of things.”
“You were going to cancel?” Her hand tightened on her glass. “But what made you decide to come?”
“Because I’ve spent too many yearsnotshowing up at your door.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She knew she’d hurt him when she chose Theodore. When she hadn’t been brave enough to choose him. And it had been clear that her father would never approve of Jonah, not for his daughter.
“But that’s in the past, Ellie. All of it. We have now and we have the future. To make of it what we want.” He smiled at her. “But now, let’s talk about something else, not rehash the past.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Relief washed through her. The past was full of painful memories. Just normal, everyday conversation sounded like a lovely idea.
He took a sip of his wine. “Nice. Good round flavor with a hint of spice and maybe a bit of blackberry.”
“So you know your wines?” She tilted her head, surprised.
“A bit. I actually worked in a vineyard over in France for a couple of years.”
“There’s so much about you that I don’t know.”
“I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”
“I don’t even know where to start.” She paused, then continued. “You’re getting closer to your nephew now?”
“Now that I even know that I have one?” He grinned. “It’s a bit of an adjustment knowing I have family again. I… I like it. And yes, we’re getting close. Though, Brent spends most of his time with Darlene’s granddaughter, Felicity. I think he cares greatly for her.”
She traced the rim of her wineglass with her finger. “Young love is so different, isn’t it? They’re willing to rush headlong into everything. Like Brent and Felicity, with their whole lives ahead of them.”
“Were we so different at that age?” Jonah’s eyes held a warmth she remembered from decades ago.
“No, I suppose not.” She paused, considering. “Though we didn’t get what we wanted back then. And now…” She lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Now there are so many layers to everything. So many years of habits and routines.”
“And walls we’ve built around ourselves,” he added. He shifted in Theodore’s old chair, and she forced herself not to think about how strange it felt seeing him there.
“Exactly. I’ve lived alone for so many years now. I have my routines. My quiet mornings with Winston. My garden. My committees.” She took another sip of wine. “And you’ve had your travels, your freedom.”
“Freedom can get lonely.” His voice was soft, thoughtful. “Watching Brent with Felicity reminds me of that. Young love doesn’t question itself, it just moves forward, full steam ahead.”
She nodded. “While we sit here analyzing every little thing.” She let out a small laugh. “Though perhaps that’s wisdom rather than hesitation.”
“Or perhaps it’s fear dressed up as wisdom.” His gaze met hers. “We’re not exactly young anymore, Ellie. We don’t have the luxury of endless time ahead of us.”
“No, we don’t.” She smoothed her skirt, then settled her hand when she realized what she was doing. “But we do have experience. We know how easily things can go wrong, how complicated relationships can become.”
“True. But we also know what matters. The problems that seemed so important in youth don’t mean much anymore, do they?”
Winston got up from his bed and padded over to Eleanor’s chair, resting his head on her knee. She scratched behind his ears, grateful for the familiar comfort of his presence.
“No, they don’t,” she agreed. “But starting over at our age… It’s different from young love. There’s no blank slate. We bring our whole lives with us—our children, our memories, our losses.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” he said. “Those experiences made us who we are. I’d like to think they made us better equipped for love, not worse.”
