He stares at me for a couple of seconds. “There is a famous quote,” he says, “and it goes:Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard it. I think it’s from “Twelfth Night,” right? By William Shakespeare. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“I grew up loving all of Shakespeare’s plays,” he says. “But for me, do you know what that means?”
“No.” I lean back.
“I was born a Waverly, and with that, comes tradition. And with tradition comes expectation. And with expectation comes duty. And with duty comes?—”
“Granddad, I’m not really sure what you’re saying.”
“I’m just saying that my father and my grandfather before him had expectations for who I would be, who I would marry, and who I would become as a man. I’ve become that man, and I’m proud to be that man.” He pauses. “I don’t want that same pressure for you, though.”
“Thank you. But I’m not really sure what that means.”
“It just means that life is not black and white. There’s no path A and path B, and having to stick with either one. Sometimes path A meanders back into path B, and path B meanders back out of path A. And we get glimpses of what could have been or who we could have been. We always have access to change. To be someone different. To realize that things aren’t exactly as they should be.”
“Granddad… is this about your life? Is this about your relationship with Grandma, or is this about?—”
“It’s about all of it. How was the dinner with Gina?” He asks again, like he’s looking for an answer he hasn’t gotten yet.
“It was good. She’s a nice woman.” I’m not going to tell him I’m falling for her. Or that we made mad passionate love or that she had to rush out to save her sister. I’m not going to tell him that I got no sleep because I was worried about her safety.
“She is. Her grandfather always speaks highly of her and her work.
“I’m curious, though… if you don’t know if Grandma was actually the right choice, why are you writing this book?”
“We are Waverlys, Hunter. I want future generations to know about Preston and Enid Waverly and our love story and how we came to be.” I think about what Gina had told me and stare at him.
“But was Grandma the one? You said you saw her, and you knew. And Grandma said something to Gina that had her slightly confused.”
“What did she say?” His eyes narrow.
“She said, ‘I saw them and knew I had to have him.’”
He laughs bitterly at first, and then he can’t stop. He slams his hand down on the table, and I jump. There’s a twisted look on his face as he gazes out of the window.
“That’s my Enid,” he says. “You see? She knew what she wanted.”
“And that was you.”
“Indeed, it was.”
“And you knew what you wanted.”
He stares at me, his eyes shrewd. He knows what I’m asking.
For a few moments, I think he’s about to answer me, but there’s a knock at the door.
“Hi. Morning, Mr. Waverly.” Gina hurries in. “Oh, hi, Hunter.” She offers me a small wave and a secret smile. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here. Do I—should I leave?”
“No, no. Come on in,” my grandfather says, and I’m sure he’s grateful for the change in conversation.
I know better than to try and prod him to respond.
“How is everything?” I ask her.
“It’s okay.” She rubs her eyes and yawns. “Late night.”
