Page 60 of Gracie Harris Is Under Construction

“So no scary surprises lurking that make you second-guess this romantic situation?”

“You are not a red-flag sort of guy, Josh. This house, in fact, only makes me like you more because it’s the exact sort of tucked-away paradise I initially thought I wanted in Canopy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I tried to convince Ben that we needed a rural spot. Downtown reminded me too much of home. We even saw a place just down the road from here. The Craftsman was a compromise at the time—much more of a Ben type of location. Now, of course, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. It would be lonely for me to betucked away by myself up here. I like my quiet time, but I’d be a ball of anxiety on a few acres all alone.”

“I can’t imagine anyone else in the Wilson Street house besides you, so I think the compromise worked out well. He knew what he was doing.”

This is one thing I love about Josh. From the beginning—when we were just strangers asking each other questions—he’s been comfortable with me talking openly about Ben. There isn’t a hint of jealousy or weirdness.

Suddenly, there is a brief knock at the door followed by it rapidly opening. Two seventysomethings burst in while chatting loudly to one another.

“Josh! We were driving home from Clemson and had to make a stop here to use the bathroom. The old prostate isn’t what it used to be,” says the man, before looking up and realizing that Josh isn’t alone.

The expression on Josh’s face is mostly amused but also a little embarrassed. His comfort at the unexpected guests makes me quickly realize these are hisparents.

“Oh my goodness…the other car in the driveway…we’re intruding!” says his mom, walking up toward us. “We should’ve called first, but you’re usually home alone on weeknights, sweetie.”

I have two kids and irritable bowel syndrome, so there is quite literally nothing people can say to me about their bodily functions to gross me out. My instinct is to make his parents feel comfortable in this awkward moment.

“Mom, Dad, this is Gracie,” Josh says, recovering quickly. “Gracie, these are my parents, Jim and Suzanne.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” I say, giving his mother a quick hugsince she is nearby. Josh gives his dad a hug and whispers in his ear something about taking care of his business. We’re all laughing, even though Suzanne and I don’t hear the full extent of things.

“I’m sorry we barged in. We’ll be out of your hair in no time,” Suzanne says.

By this point, Josh has taken the chicken out of the oven, and there is enough to feed a small army. He told me once that he makes food in bulk, freezes it, and then eats the same meal every night until it runs out. It’s how he survived his busy workload over the last few years. I make small talk with Suzanne for a few minutes, asking about their trip and the traffic they hit on the road.

“There’s plenty of food,” I offer, gesturing toward the baking sheet full of prepared chicken. “You should stay before you get back on the road.”

Jim emerges at this point and heartily agrees. “Is it chicken Parm night? That sounds perfect.”

Suzanne and Josh are exchanging theexactsame look with each other, and it takes no effort for me to start matching the personality traits of Josh and James to their parents. I smile and mouthIt’s okayto Josh. He lets out a sigh, shakes his head, and then nods to his mom. She silently goes over to the kitchen cabinets and nimbly grabs out two more plates, napkins, and sets of cutlery from their respective spots and brings them over to the long wood dining table.

—

We’re over anhour into dinner and wine, and Josh’s parents are telling me lots of stories about him. Josh wants to pretend likehe’s embarrassed, but I know he’s not. His parents are just like he described—so full of obvious and boundless love for him. Nothing is said in a hurtful or sarcastic tone. It’s all so joyful.

“Did Josh tell you that he almost didn’t go to college?” Jim asks, looking at me.

“We had to insist on it,” Suzanne jumps in. “This guy just wanted to ride mountain bikes for the rest of his life. He wanted to start his own company at eighteen!”

“They told me to go to college, major in business, and learn how to actually do things the right way,” Josh adds. “So I did, and I worked summers as a bike tour guide. By the time I graduated, I understood the practical and business sides of things.”

“And obviously, we were right,” Jim says matter-of-factly. “He started his own company, always operated in the black, and then sold it for high five figures before starting the construction company.”

His dad is so obviously proud of him, and it makes my heart swell. My parents do the same for me. They used to keep copies of the tourism magazine on their coffee table with my name circled halfway down the masthead. Now they keep laminated copies of myNew York Timesessays out instead. Once the book is released? Their friends are goners.

“They were right,” Josh says in mock annoyance. “It turns out learning how to actually run a business in the classroom keeps you from making stupid mistakes in real life.”

“That’s enough about us and Josh,” Suzanne starts. “Kendell got me hooked on your essays last year, and I know you’ve spent the summer here in Canopy writing. Tell us about your book and how it’s coming along.”

I’ve peppered them with questions and talked very little aboutmyself until now. I know that once you get a parent talking about their children, even adult ones, they won’t stop. I wanted intel on Josh.

“Well, I’m really close to wrapping up the complete first draft, which is totally surreal,” I begin. “Reading the early chapters now is so wild because it feels like a million years ago. My agent arrives in a few days to read through some of the first chapters.”

“Are you nervous?” Suzanne asks.

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