Page 28 of Comforting the Grump

“Ha, might as well have.” I paced the length of my tiny kitchen. “She called me unreliable, then threatened to badmouth me to the new owners, so I told her where she could stick her job.”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched, filled with Marnin’s analytical processing. “Good for you. You don’t need that kind of bullshit. Setting boundaries is important.”

His words were like a balm, soothing the raw edges of my anger. “You don’t think that was stupid? I mean, if she fires me, I’ll have nothing.”

Literally nothing, considering my savings were gone, but I didn’t say that. There was no need for Marnin to know about that. Telling Auden had been enough torture, though he’d been nice about it.

“No, it was the right call. She’ll walk all over you if you don’t set firm boundaries. For her to threaten to talk negatively about you to the new owners was a new low. Though I didn’t know The Lodge had been sold officially.”

“It’s not official yet. She said they’re coming in this weekend to finalize things. It’s a couple, by the way.”

“They’re planning on keeping it a hotel?”

I’d finally stopped pacing, that flare of anger at Mrs. Coombe seeping out of me. “I don’t know for sure, but if they’re interested in keeping on staff, they’d have to, right? What else would they need staff for? We’re usually booked solid, so financially, it has to be a good investment.”

“Hmm, maybe. I’d have to see the books first. Not sure if they’ve been operating at a big enough profit.”

And that was why I was so hesitant to be a business owner. I didn’t have a head for those kinds of considerations and calculations. “That’s outside my wheelhouse, but I suppose you’re right. The main point for me is that my job isn’t secure, and that’s a little scary, not gonna lie.”

“You’ll be fine, Ennio. With your resume and experience, you’ll find something else in no time. I know Forestville is your home, but Seattle’s got plenty of opportunities if needed. You won’t be on the streets.”

I sat in my favorite chair and curled my legs up. “Maybe it’s time to move there anyway. Forestville might just be getting too small for me, both for work and for…love. Or even sex.”

Marnin chuckled. “You don’t need to convince me, darling. I love visiting, but I’m always happy to see the town disappear in my rearview mirror again.”

“I’m not quite there yet, but we’ll see what happens. I took the whole weekend off, by the way. Not just Friday. Guess I was feeling a little rebellious or even vindictive after her reaction.”

“Oh, so you’re staying the whole weekend? That’s no problem at all. You planning on hitting a club again?”

I hadn’t planned to stay with Marnin for the entire weekend, but he didn’t sound upset about the idea. In fact, he seemed almost…happy? No idea why, but I wasn’t gonna say no to that opportunity. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“No.” His answer came fast. “It’ll be…good to have you.”

“Okay.”

“Really good.”

His tone struck a deep chord inside me. Marnin, the man who prided himself on casual connections and maintained an emotional fortress, sounded almost…vulnerable.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll see you Friday.”

“See you then.”

He ended the call, and I stood there with my phone in my hand.

Marnin had always seemed like an island to me—self-sufficient, impenetrable. Yet his eagerness, that rare display of warmth when I told him I’d stay the weekend, cracked his facade, revealing a solitary figure on that island. It hit me how much he must crave company, connection…

“God,” I muttered. The insight struck me like lightning. “He’s lonely.”

How had I never seen this before? He’d kept up such a good front with his sarcastic wit, always deflecting whenever things got too close. But underneath, he was hurting. He was as alone as I was.

The realization had me sink slowly into a chair. “I’ll be goddamned.”

Marnin Rosser was lonely. He actually wanted my company.

Sure, maybe it was born out of desperation, fueled by his panic over whatever medical issues were plaguing him. A confrontation with one’s mortality made one reevaluate life choices, I guessed. He was certainly the right age for a good midlife crisis—though I’d never be stupid enough to say that to his face.

But it felt like more than that. If it had merely been the company he needed, he could’ve chosen to spend another weekend with any of his friends here in Forestville. He could’ve called my brother, for example, and asked to meet up.

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