“Pops!” I burst out laughing. “You don’t like it?”
“Is that Janine’s doing?”
“She was there, yes.” I giggle, accountable.
“I don’t understand. What’s with you girls and your ever-changing hair colors?”
I shrug. “Personal expression.”
“You want to express yourself, write a book. Cook a meal, play a song.” He lectures me. Yup, that’s Pops.
“I have been cooking,” I inform him. “A lot.”
“Good.” He settles on the mattress. “Keep at it. You love it. You’re talented. You’ll go far.” He closes his eyes.
“I’m only any of those things because of you.”
He grins. “I’ll take the credit.” The man isn’t modest by any means.
“I’ll gladly give it.” I take his hand.
“How did the meeting with Winters go?” He pops open one eye and reads my facial expression like a book. “That good, huh?”
“I told him we weren’t selling. He didn’t like it.”
Pops sighs heavily, gripping my hand. “Jennifer, take the money. Sell the place. Start brand new.”
“No. The Corkscrew is my home. It’s all I have left. I’ll never sell it to some sleazy developer who’s just going to tear it down and build a condo in its place. This state has enough of those,” I fume. “I’m going to pay off the liens and remodel. You’ll see. I have plans. I can do this.”
Pops shakes his head at me, his lip curled on one side. “Stubborn girl.”
“An attribute I can also claim from you.”
“Do what you think is right, but don’t let pride blind you.” He starts coughing again. Hard, body shaking hacks. I hold him down until the fit subsides. “Everything has its time.” He looks up into my eyes, and I nearly burst into tears. I know he’s alluding to more than just the restaurant. He doesn’t have much time left, and it’s destroying me.
“I need to try.”
His face softens. “I was mad at God for so long for not blessing me with children. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. He was saving me for you. You may not be my flesh and blood, but you are mine. Hard head and all.”
I stare down into his cloudy brown eyes. His health deteriorated so fast, I almost still can’t believe we’re in this place.
I will not cry. I will not cry. At least, not in front of him.
“Fight, old man.” I kiss his forehead.
“I know no other way.” He coughs some more.
“Good,” I tease as I stand up. “I have to get over to the Corkscrew. Straighten up after the party.”
“How was Janine and Jack’s last hurrah?”
I pause, awkwardly. Fighting off illicit images of me, Shane and Chase in the stairwell. “Eventful.”
Pops lifts his white eyebrows. “Eventful? Is my restaurant still standing?”
“It is,” I confirm. “If there’s any alcohol left? That’s a different story.”
He groans.
