Page 46 of Pity Play

She ponders that for a minute before saying, “I like meeting people at the lodge. But that’s all the new I need. I want to know everyone in my town.”

“And there a lot of people still here from high school?”

“Enough. There’s Faith, who owns the bakery. She and Anna are best friends. Then there’s Melissa, Paige, and Tim. Tim’s family owns the country club.”

“I know them all,” I tell her. “We were all in the same graduating class.” I’m actually surprised so many of my classmates stilllive here. I would have thought they’d have all gone on to bigger and better things.

“My friend Allie, who I went through all of school with, just moved back. She and her husband got divorced.”

I can see coming back after experiencing a trauma like that, so I say, “Home is a good place to regroup.”

“Just not to live permanently, huh?” She sounds slightly defensive.

“I guess we all have a different idea of what feels like home.”

A young waitress that I haven’t met yet stops by with our food. Once she leaves, Lorelai says, “I figured you’d be one of those people like Faith who took over the family business.”

“That’s what my dad thought, too.” I’m not sure why I tell her that other than I feel very comfortable with Lorelai. Also, her life seems to currently be in as much turmoil as mine, so I assume she’ll be sympathetic.

“Can’t you do both?” she asks. “You know, have a restaurant in the city and keep Pop’s once your dad retires.”

“I’ve truthfully never considered it. I like fine dining, and while diner food is great to eat, it’s not that creative to make.”

She takes a bite of her burger, chews it, and swallows before saying, “Bobby Flay must have a hundred restaurants. He can’t be at all of them all the time, and I’m sure they serve different kinds of food.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I tell her. “But I’m not Bobby Flay. I just want to make a hit out of my one place.”

“You’re the one with big ideas.” She says this like she’s challenging me. “I’d think you’d already have your eye on your next project.”

It’s not that I haven’t thought about opening a second restaurant, but I’ve always assumed that it would be years down the line. “Maybe someday,” I tell her. “But right now, I just want to be successful where I’m at.”

“I read about Capon inChicagomagazine. It looks like you’vealready made it.” She picks up an onion ring and dunks it into a side of ranch.

“We’re doing pretty well,” I tell her. We’re actually doing great. It’s just such a big dream come true that I don’t want to spread myself too thin by taking on more than I can handle.

“I’d love to eat there sometime,” Lorelai says. Her face turns bright red, and she adds, “You know, if I’m ever in Chicago.”

“Chicago is only two hours away,” I tell her. “I assume that even if you don’t want to live there, you will visit. When you do, give me a call. I’d love to host you at Capon.” She smiles adorably and I start to wonder how I ever thought this lovely woman was annoying.

“I’ll let you know if I ever visit Noah,” she says. “He’s probably the only person I’d go there for.” She lowers her eyes bashfully.

“You’re always welcome to visit me, too,” I tell her. “After all, we’re almost like family, right?”

She glances at me briefly, but her expression quickly falls. I wonder if Lorelai’s crush on me isn’t as over as she claims it is. “Lucky me,” she says. “The only thing better than one big brother is two.”

I’m not currently feeling very big brotherly toward Lorelai. In fact, the more I see of her and her life—I mean walking dogs at the pound?—I’m wondering what it would be like to pull her into my arms and give her a real kiss?In an attempt to change the subject to something safer, I tell her, “I don’t see as much of Noah as I’d like to.”

Lorelai rolls her eyes. “He’s probably too busy trying to make his basketball team hate him.”

“He must be doing something right. I hear they’re in the top five in the state.”

“They’re third,” Lorelai says. “But Noah has his eye on taking first place this year. I’m pretty sure if he manages it, his team will be ready to kill him.”

Throwing out one of my dad’s favorite platitudes, I tell her, “You’ve got to work hard if you want to get ahead.”

“There’s more to life than winning,” she retaliates. I suddenly wonder if she’s talking about basketball, or something else. Like cooking, for instance.

“What did you do when you lived in Madison?” I ask.

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