“Hunter texted you were here. Said you looked like you could use a friend.”
“Yeah, well, he was right.”
Hunter arrived with the bottle of wine, a giant plate of fries and three glasses. I’d not yet finished my beer, but set it aside as Hunter poured us each a modest glass.
“First off, I want to tell you that, no matter who your father is, you’re our friend,” Vance said. “I can understand why you wanted to start over, without anyone knowing about your past. But I can say, with utmost sincerity, it doesn’t matter to me. I know who you are. Your good heart is obvious for everyone to see.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“As far as what’s going on between you and Esme—do you want to talk about it?” Vance asked.
“I’m worried she’ll think I’m like my father. Demanding she give herself to me for money.”
This was the thing I hadn’t said to anyone. The thing underneath everything else.
“My father never took no for an answer.” I turned the glass in my hand. “That was his whole thing. He decided what he wanted, and he went after it, and, if someone said no, he found a way around it. Charm. Money. Power. Whatever it took. I don’t want her to feel that way.”
Vance leaned back. “It’s not the same, man. I’m sorry, but it’s not.”
“Isn’t it? She told me to leave. She said we’re not family. She’s made the decision to move back to Seattle. And I’m sitting here thinking I know better.”
“You’re not thinking you know better,” Hunter said. “You love her.”
I stared at the table.
“It may take the rest of your life to understand that you are not your father,” Hunter said. “It’s something that’s going to come up time and again for you. But you have to push through those feelings or you’re going to wreck everything, again and again.”
The way he said it made me think he had experienced something similar.
“Come to the Halloween party at Alex and Gillian’s,” Vance said. “Get her alone. Tell her you love her.”
“Give her the chance to say yes,” Hunter said.
“What if she doesn’t?” I asked.
“Then you’ll figure out what to do next,” Vance said. “But you’ve got to give it a shot.”
I nodded. “I’ll go to the party.”
Vance lifted his glass. “Good. It’s time. You and Esme deserve happiness.”
17
ESME
The next morning, I threw myself into work. Trevor was curled in his bed behind the counter, his chin on his paws, watching me with the patient resignation of a dog who had accepted he could not make his mistress smile.
Mid-morning, a man arrived with a golden retriever trotting in behind him on a leash, tail wagging, immediately interested in Trevor. Trevor raised his head and let him approach. They touched noses, sniffing each other. The visiting retriever’s tail went into overdrive. Trevor’s moved once, politely, then he lay back down. The friendly dog plopped down next to him anyway.
“Charlie, mind your manners,” the man said, tugging the leash gently. “Sorry about that. He thinks everyone is his best friend.”
“Trevor’s the same way,” I said. “He’s just quieter about it. Can I help you with something? I’m Esme, the owner.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Arthur. I’d like to send flowers to someone. A thank-you arrangement.” He looked around the shop. “I’m not sure what’s appropriate. I’ve never sent flowers to a young man before.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“He saved my life,” Arthur said.“I got caught in a rip current down by the point. Wave came out of nowhere and swept Charlie and me out to sea. This young fellow—surfer, strong guy—came out of nowhere. Got me and Charlie to shore. I could barely breathe. He stayed with me until I was all right. Made sure Charlie and I got up to my car.”
