“I’m glad you think so, because it’s definitely an extreme level of spite.” She shrugged. “If my grandmother having a hand in his woes is even true. It really depends on who you ask around town. Some people think she was trying to murder him and either didn’t have the guts or the knowledge to see it through. And some folks think they were a miserable couple who couldn’t stand each other, and that he wasn’t very nice so the universe enjoyed slapping him down whenever possible.”
Some of the sparkle dimmed from his eyes. “How not nice was he?”
“Nobody knows, really. One of the strange things about a town this small—especially back before Facebook and the influx of tourism, when it felt even smaller—is the way everybody can know all your business while, at the same time, everybody minds their own business. It was known he was a hardcore jerk and she was deeply unhappy, but other than that, the truth died with them.”
“Okay. I just didn’t want to get wrapped up in your story and make a wisecrack comment or something if it was… Actually I guess I shouldn’t anyway because you don’t have to physically hit somebody to be abusive.”
She liked that he recognized that, but she didn’t want to drag the mood down as they started walking again. “I know, but the lore within myownfamily is that they were both just miserable, hateful people who deserved each other. They died before I was born, but my mother was raised by them, obviously. And she never said anything that led me to believe there was more than that.”
“Okay. That’s good. I mean, not that they were miserable, but… .never mind.”
“Danny, this story is supposed to be about my family’s restaurant.”
“Right. Carry on.”
“My grandmother didn’t want my mom to ever be stuck with a life she didn’t want.”
“I have to stop you again.”
“Writers,” she muttered.
“It’s just that this story sounds like it takes place in the nineteenth century, but they’re your grandparents. My grandfather can still kick my ass in volleyball. Which I will deny I ever said if you repeat it, by the way.”
“My grandparents were probably quite a bit older than yours because they had my uncle and my mom later in life.”
“You have an uncle?”
She laughed. “Yes. Uncle Jim, who is married to Aunt Karen. And their three kids are my cousins, including Rhylee, who is like a sister to me. I have a whole life outside of that restaurant, you know.”
“And I want to know all about it.”
“No, you want me to keep talking all the time so you have an excuse to not be working on your book.” When he scowled at that undoubtedly correct observation, she laughed. “Anyway, I also think being really toxic and miserable your entire life shortens it drastically.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’m a little surprised they had kids later in life. It seems like they wouldn’t have liked each other well enough to…have children together.”
“That’s probably why they didn’t have them until later. I’m not sure how early in their marriage they realized they didn’t like each other, but I’m sure they reached a certain age and realized they didn’t have kids to do things like mowing the lawn and carrying laundry baskets out to the clothesline.”
“That’s valid. My mother hasn’t touched a snow shovel since Joey and I were tall enough to hold the handle.”
“According to a good friend of my grandmother—whose granddaughter is our town librarian—she’d been hiding money since before they even got married. She was gifted at not returning a person’s change, or finding cash under cushions and in coat pockets. She always needed a little more for groceries and gas and bills than what they actually cost.”
“Okay, theft and embezzlement and possibly multiple attempts at murder. I don’t care if she was cranky. I love this woman.”
“I feel like that’s a big difference between writers and non-writers. Most people would probably be horrified by that.”
“You can’t make a compelling story out of good people doing exactly what’s expected of them and being good until they die of old age.”
“What aboutForrest Gump?” she challenged.
“That’s a very compelling story, but how much of that comes from the flawed people in his life? Imagine if everybody in that book—”
“Or movie.”
“—or movie had been as good and decent as Forrest.” When she conceded the point with a dip of her head, he grinned. “Back to the restaurant.”
“For the umpteenth time. This is why your book isn’t finished.”
“Your grandmother opened the restaurant with her somewhat ill-gotten gains and named it after her daughter?”
