Page 1 of Pity Play

CHAPTER ONE

LORELAI

“Hang on, Noah.” I put my cell phone down while giving the teenager leaning against the counter a sympathetic smile. As I ring up her telltale order of salty cashew nuts, a chocolate bar, and a travel-sized bottle of Midol, I can’t help but think,I’ve been there, sister. Consulting my mental calendar, I realize I’ll be there again in approximately three days. I can already taste my go-to culinary comforts—sodium-riddled cheeseburgers followed by a chocolate pudding chaser.The boxed variety, because I’m classy that way.

I pick up my phone as the anguished-looking girl shuffles away. “Okay, I’m back. What were you saying about Luke Phillips?” I’m pretty sure I heard my brother the first time, but my heart started to beat so loudly, the resulting thumping in my ears may have affected my ability to process the news.

Noah shouts in the background, “You throw that basketball like my grandmother! Scratch that—Nana could shoot circles around all of you!” Noah is a high school basketball coach. Apparently, his motivational style is to make his team feel inferior to our eighty-year-old arthritic grandmother, who as far as I know has never even held a basketball, let alone shot a three-pointer.

“Hold on, I’m going into my office.” Moments later, Noah grumbles, “I swear, these kids have the attention span of hyperactive gnats.”

“Speaking of a lack of focus,” I tease. “Are you going to finish telling me about Luke?”

“I already did. His dad had an accident and won’t be able to work for a while, so Luke’s going back to Elk Lake to take over at Pop’s until Mr. Phillips is up and running.”

That’sexactlywhat I thought he said. Confirmation results in my senses bursting into overdrive. Hot bolts of electricity shoot through my nervous system and make me wonder if I might be having a stroke. Although currently I’m so excited even a major health event couldn’t diminish my unabashed joy.

“Word on the street—aka my neighbor’s cat sitter—is that Mr. P fell off his roof. What in the world was he doing up there?”

My brother snorts. “He thought he saw an injured raccoon and he was going up to see if it needed any help.”

There is so much wrong with that statement, I don’t know where to begin. I start with, “Why would you corner an injured raccoon on a roof? It could be rabid.”

“I guess it’s a good thing it wasn’t a raccoon.”

“What was it? A giant squirrel? A possum? A furry alien?”

“It was a branch that had come down in the last storm.”

That isn’t surprising, as parts of Elk Lake are very wooded. Our spring storms can pack quite a wallop as my dad likes to say. “So, he fell trying to remove the branch?”

“He fell trying to kick it off the roof.”

“Kick it …”

“You know Mr. P. He likes to think he’s still a kid. I guess he was going to show that stick who’s boss.”

I pull a bottle of glass cleaner out from under the counter and spray down the area in front of me. Wiping in wide circles, I ask, “How badly was he hurt?” I’ve heard a variety of gossip around town that varies from “lucky to be alive” to “just bruises.”

“Luke doesn’t know yet. All his mom said is that he’ll be in the hospital for several days.”

“So, pretty bad.”

Instead of answering, Noah shouts, “So help me, Greyson, if you don’t turn around and get back on the court, I’m going to bench your butt for the entire season.”

“But coach …” I hear a voice in the distance. “I’ve gotta … you know … go.”

“Go where? To the moon? You need to go shopping for a new swimsuit? You late for a nail appointment?” My brother is as warm and fuzzy as a barracuda.

“I’ve got … you know … stomach troubles.”

“You’ve got to poop? For the love of … Fine. Hurry up and go, but you’re going to stay late for five minutes for every minute you’re gone.”

Noah’s team must despise him. However, I don’t give that much thought because Luke Phillips is front and center in my mind. From what my brother has told me, his lifelong bestie and his dad have barely spoken in years. That has something to do with Luke not moving back to Elk Lake once he graduated from culinary school. He had other plans. Like moving to Chicago and becoming a big deal chef at a Michelin-starred restaurant, like the one he currently owns.

“Is Luke staying with his folks while he’s here?” Before he can answer, I conclude, “That ought to give them plenty of time to clear up any misunderstandings.”

“It might if Mr. Phillips knew Luke was going to cover for him at Pop’s.”

---