“In a way, but I still grabbed the narrative and spun it the way I needed it to be for me to keep going through the hurt.” She swallowed. “And I let it define my life. I’ve dedicated nearly every moment since Corbin left to eradicating his memory—and part of that includes living single forever because of his actions. Grandma did the opposite and tried to give it so little meaning, it didn’t exist for her anymore. She found love and happiness and joy—and so she could let it all go.”
Grandpa sighed, long and heavy, weighted with every one of his years. Weighted as though he hadn’t woken up today anticipating being his granddaughter’s free therapist, especially while going through his own problems. Yet, here he was. Showing up, as he always did. And as she always knew he would, even when he was hurt and upset with Grandma Winnie.
“I saw the video,” he said, “on your grandma’s social media. I was scrolling through it last night like a sop, and I saw you dancing with Asher. You looked happy.”
“I was happy,” she said, her voice rising to an unknown octave through her sudden tears, knowing she sounded ridiculous.
“Then why are you crying?” he asked her, his voice warm but incredulous.
“Because—if I’m happy, then I’ll lose everything.”
“That makes no sense.” Grandpa patted her hand. “And so what if you lose everything?”
“No offense, Grandpa. But you’re kind of bad at this advice thing.” She sniffled. “I need you to tell me how I can have it all. The job and the man and the happily single platform and the money and not have everyone mad at me.”
He barked out a laugh, which made her scowl.
“Oh, honey,” he said softer but with his signature honesty, “you can’t have everything. Your generation is always saying ‘You can have it all’, but the truth is it’s impossible to get everything you want. You’re going to have to choose.”
That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted Grandma to walk in, having overheard everything, and have a ten-step plan in hand on how Eliana could have all of those things at once.
Grandpa pulled one of his hands free to bop her wrinkled nose, something he’d done since she was a little girl. “Don’t give me that disgruntled look, Elly. What’s most important to you?”
“I don’t know,” she whined. “Can’t you just tell me?”
“Sure,” he said. “But that’s about as satisfying as walking to the cup and dropping my golf ball straight into it. We value the things we work for.”
She dropped her head onto the table with a groan. He patted her hair and then stood. “Let me get you a soda while you think, but don’t think too hard, okay? Trust your gut. Line up your club to the tee. Have confidence in your swing.”
“Wait. Are we talking my life or golf?”
“One and the same.” She heard the crack and hiss of a can of soda opening. “Sometimes when we’re out there on the green, we get a hole in one, but most of the time it takes a few swings to get the ball exactly where we need it to be.” She felt the cold soda at her elbow and looked up to see his satisfied smile, his eyes adrift, lost in his golf metaphor.
“I know, I know.” She couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face. Grandpa had always had the magic touch to pull her out of a funk. “Keep trying. Never give up. Never surrender …” She sipped the icy root beer—her favorite—feeling better despite herself.
“True. But also”—he rapped his knuckles lightly on the table—“you deserve all the happiness, love, and joy you can get. Whatever club or ball you choose, aim for that.” He peeked over the side of the table, where she wiggled the toes of her bare feet. “But first, why don’t you go into our closet and borrow some shoes from Grandma? Everything seems better with a good pair of shoes.”
Chapter 39
Winniesatinacorner of the dining hall wearing large, dark sunglasses and a floppy sun hat, hoping no one would notice her—most notably a certain ex-husband she hoped to never see again.
Her life was in shambles, thanks to Gerard.
No, she thought,thanks to me. She was the one who had kept this secret for so long from Horace. She had no one to blame but herself. Lisa had taken the news about Winnie’s first marriage surprisingly well, but she’d let Winnie know what a problem her video last night could pose for Eliana.
So not only had Winnie ruined her own life, she’d ruined Eliana’s as well. How would she ever face her granddaughter again? She’d thought posting the video of Eliana and Asher dancing would be something cute and fun for her followers to see.
Instead it went viral again—darn it all!—and suddenly she was reading all these terribly mean comments about what a hypocrite Eliana was and how she was only pretending to be single to earn money.
Her stomach pitched and rolled like it was a boat on a stormy sea. How could she have gotten so many things wrong?
Polly slid into the seat beside her but didn’t say anything, just opened her library book and read. Winnie wanted to tell her that she needed to be alone, but she didn’t have the energy to even speak. Besides, Polly was being quiet, for once, so what did it matter if she sat there and read her book?
A moment later, Walt sat on the other side of her. He didn’t say anything either, just perused his daily newspaper. Winnie let out a long, shuddering breath.
Nancy sat down next and pulled a half-done crocheted potholder from her purse. Less than a minute later, Don plopped an extra chair between Walt and Nancy and sat on it backward while scrolling through his phone, like a teenager in a movie. Rosa bustled over and squeezed in beside Polly, a fan in one hand and a frosted glass of iced tea in the other, her cheeks pink as if she’d just come in from being outside. Winnie wasn’t surprised when Harry showed up last with a puzzle box under his arm that he opened and dumped onto the empty table.
They all quietly worked on their things. Each minute they were there ruined Winnie’s pity party more and more. She wanted to sit in a dark corner and stew and feel bad for herself. Alone. Was that too much to ask?
