Eddie
***
My mom and sister want to knowhow things went with Edward as we gather in the kitchen over our improvised dinner of cold cereal (my mom), ramen (me), and strawberries and cream (Annie).
“I’m pretty sure his mom is going to sell the park to his company, and they’re going to turn Norland into another upscale resort.”
“Edward wouldn’t,” Annie gasps. “He loves this place almost as much as we do.”
“I don’t think one day here is going to convince him to trash a lucrative business deal,” I say.
“Maybe not,” continues my sister. “But he just might because he fancies you!”
“Please stop,” I say in a quiet but stern voice. Both my mom and Annie stare at me wide-eyed. It’s not like me to directly confront them. I close my eyes and take a breath. I’m more composed when I say, “Mr. Frechette is not in love with me. We’re barely acquaintances. I have no expectation of him doinganything except what is in his best interest.”
“But saving the parkwouldbe in his interest,” maintains Annie. “Since he’s in love with you!”
“He’s not. I promise.”
“Did something happen between you two?” My mom asks, her eyes narrowed.
“No,” I shake my head. “Nothing, nothing at all. It was just a tour.”
“Don’t listen to her. At my poetry class, I saw the way he was looking at you.”
“You took him to Annie’s poetry class?”
“Not exactly... we were making sure his friend found his daughter.”
“Edward has a friend staying here?” asks my mom.
“Yes, Brandon—they played lacrosse together in college.”
“He’s a decent fellow,” Annie offers.
“Is he handsome?” my mom asks with new interest.
“He’s passable for a Millennial,” Annie says dismissively
“I see... so youareinterested in him?” suggests my mom.
“Of course not,” Annie bristles. “I’m dating Hunter. I’m just saying he’s not bad for an old guy. There’s something about his tragic eyes.”
“Tragic eyes. I’m surprised you can resist him,” I tease my sister.
“A man of Brandon’s age should be beyond teasing.”
“‘A man of Brandon’s age!’ He can’t be that old,” says my mom.
“He’s not. “He and Edward were in high school at the same time. Edward’s twenty-nine, so at most he’s thirty-four.”
“My point exactly,” Annie says, popping a strawberry in her mouth. “Ancient.”
“If he’s ancient, what am I?” asks my mom.
“Ageless.” My sister gets up and walks to where my momis sitting at the breakfast bar and hugs her from behind. “It’s not that Brandon is so old. It’s that he’s such a grown up. He’s a dadanda widower. And it’s not right to suggest that he has any interest in me when that’s the furthest thing from his mind. All he’s concerned about is taking care of his daughter.”
My mother looks at me with raised brows. I get what she means. This little speech makes me think Annie has more interest in Brandon than I thought possible—considering her long-standing claim that, while she could marry a divorced man, she could never date a widower and risk being second-best in his heart. Or maybe she really does feel sorry for him—it’s hard to say with Annie. I’m mainly grateful to have the conversation turned away from me and Edward.
