Page 71 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
A swoop of elation rushes through me, which I am so not going to analyze right now. I drive home, music blaring, the balmy night air whipping through my hair.
Chapter 25
Remember, you have to act surprised.” I open the passenger door for Gramps and hold out my hand for his.
“I feel like the belle of the ball.” He daintily accepts my hand and steps out of the car.
“You are! And you look the part, too.”
Gramps and I had rummaged through his drawer full of unused ties and found the most extravagant one: deep plum with colorful parrots printed on it. It’s absurd.
“A gift from my niece,” Gramps said with a grimace. I laughed. Gramps’s niece is Lenore’s daughter, Sheila, whom I’ve always thought of as my most glamorous cousin. She currently lives on a beach in Thailand, running a hostel.
We’d built the rest of Gramps’s outfit around the tie: a lavender dress shirt paired with a navy-blue two-piece suit. He only owns one pair of dress shoes: black patent-leather wingtips, which he had polished to a high shine right before we left the condo.
I’d decided on my black wrap dress and strappy nude sandals. I didn’t pack many suitably festive outfits. (The carefully winged liquid eyeliner and sparkly lip gloss may or may not have been applied with Daniel in mind.)
My heart pounds as we approach the front door of Pebble Cottage. Partly because of the “surprise” about to take place, but alsobecause of a certain something—someone—I left in the back bedroom. I left him with food, water, toys, and a bed. But still, I’d been anxious about it ever since I closed the door and promised to be back soon. What if I was causing him additional trauma by bringing him to a strange location and leaving him all alone? What if he destroyed the bedroom in his anxiety? Not that there is anything in there to destroy. What if—
Breathe. Focus on getting Gramps to the party first.
I lead the way inside and Gramps marvels at the bare, floor-less floors. I open the back door and say loudly, “This way, Gramps. I want to show you something.”
He pokes his head out and says (a little too theatrically in my opinion), “Ooh, what can it be?”
“Surprise!”
Even though I know it’s coming, I’m startled by the sudden noise and the sight of my extended family jumping out of the shrubbery.
Gramps utters a high-pitched shriek. I’m pretty sure he missed his calling as a thespian. The guests apparently buy his over-the-top reaction; they’re eating it up, clapping, cheering, and whistling.
“Happy birthday, Dad!” My mom bustles forward and plants a kiss on his cheek.
“What a surprise to see you, my dear girl!” Gramps grabs her shoulders and kisses her back. I elbow him lightly to tell him to take it down a notch.
Other relatives and friends swarm to greet him, and I hang back, surveying the faces. I don’t think Daniel’s here yet—not that I am looking for him. Not at all. But, you know, he doesn’t know anyone else here, so I should greet him and introduce him to people, to be polite.
The backyard looks perfect, if I say so myself. The sun is justsetting, casting a golden-orange glow over the pool and garden, the lanterns and twinkly lights adding little spots of warmth to the scene. The balloon arch is mounted over the dessert table that Trish brought. The balloons look fabulous arching over the blue solar system birthday cake. Trish also set up a makeshift bar cart, which I predict is going to cause some trouble with this crowd.
After they greet Gramps, my parents and Trish pull me in for hugs, oohing and ahhing about the house.
“It looks absolutely perfect out here,” Trish says. “Lottie would be proud.”
“Did you really tear up all those floors by yourself?” Mom asks.
“Will you hire someone to put in the new floors? Because, you know, Mal, the sooner you can get tenants in here, the better.” Dad gestures emphatically with his gin and tonic.
“Everything will be fine.” I try for a soothing voice. “I have it under control.”
“Yes, Hugh, can’t you see that she has it under control? I’ve never seen you rip up a carpet.”
“Thank you, Mother,” I say. “Now I need a glass of wine. Excuse me for a sec.”
At the bar cart, I pour myself a plastic cup of Chardonnay. My cousin Ellie is helping herself to vodka and cranberry juice. I glance at her sideways.
“What? I’m twenty-one now,” she says, by way of greeting.
“I know. And hi.” I take a sip of the slightly chilled wine and feel the relaxation spread through me instantly. “How’s the ice cream shop?”
