Joy and Tiers (18 page)

Tyler and I are having coffee at a 24-hour truck stop. It’s a habit I developed when I started hanging out with Kiera and her dad. Denny taught me that there isn’t any problem in the world so serious that it can’t be solved over a piece of cream pie and a few cups of coffee. Also, it gives me an opportunity to talk to Ty in a place where there is a zero chance any of my family would dare set foot.

“My God, Tyler, I don’t even know how to process this. I’ve always wanted to open a place of my own. But I didn’t want my grandma to have to die for it to happen. Now it feels wrong to use the money to open the shop,” I fret.

Tyler reaches across the table to hold my hands, “Gidget, your grandma knew about your dreams. Otherwise she would have just given you something general from her estate like she did your brother and sister. But, she didn’t. She specifically gave you cash and earmarked it as capital for you to invest in your business. She was even more specific when she said it had to be a food related business. I have a hunch that she was trying to make sure your dad couldn’t manipulate the way you spend your money and try to get you back into his business world. But, that’s just my theory.” 

I flash him a droll grin, “Given the strained relationship between Grandma and my dad, I wouldn’t doubt her motivation at all. She was not a big fan of my dad. She thought he was pompous and selfish and she made no bones about sharing her opinion as widely as possible. I’ll never forget the time that she wrote it in a blog and emailed my dad the link to it. She claimed she accidentally sent the link to everyone who worked for my dad’s company. You’d be amazed how many people bought her story because she was a senior citizen learning how to use email. Most of those people would’ve been surprised to know she set up her own YouTube channel. She was crafty that way.” I smile at the memory. But, my heart clutches at the realization that there will be no more funny blog entries from my grandmother.

“I don’t even know what direction I want to go in,” I lament. “This is so far-fetched that the possibilities are endless. I could open up a small little restaurant specializing in retro cooking or I could do something like a bakery, or maybe I’ll do catering. I could do something entirely different like make candy for a gift shop where I sell my soaps and shampoos.”

A big smile slowly crosses Tyler’s face as he says, “Gee, it’s too bad you’re so talented.”

It takes me a moment to register that he’s kidding.

“Very funny Ty,” I scold. “These are huge decisions. I don’t know how I’m going to make them by myself and my family is no help at all.”

Hearing the distress in my voice, Ty straightens up in his chair and pulls a tablet of sticky notes out of his pocket and hands me a pen.

“Whenever I have a really hard decision to make, I make a list of pros and cons. I pretend what would happen if I make the decision and what would happen if I don’t. Maybe you should make a decision tree for yourself and we can see where it goes,” he says pushing the block of sticky notes in my direction.

“What if I make a mistake? What if I don’t make the right decision? What if my dad is right and I’m too stupid to do any of this?” I ask, as a cold sweat breaks out along my spine.

“What if your dad is a total dipwad who likes to hear himself talk? Gidget, you are incredibly talented. I just saw you make half my monthly pay in a single afternoon just by making sandwiches and you did it working out of a place that’s the size of a postage stamp. Imagine what you could do if you had a real place. I don’t think it’s a matter of whether you can succeed it’s just choosing which of your many skills you’re going to use to make it happen. You need to choose what makes you the happiest.”

“I don’t know Tyler.
None
of this makes me happy. My grandma was supposed to do this
with
me —”

“Supposed to do what, babe?” Ty interrupts. “Describe the dream to me. When you guys talked about it, how did you envision it?”

“My grandma said there were not enough old-fashioned bakeries in the world anymore. You know, the kind with glass cases with dozens of varieties of pastries, cookies and cupcakes behind big panes of glass. A place where a bride could order a custom wedding cake and know it would be done correctly and be confident her guests can stand the flavor of her cake. My grandma wanted me to have an old-fashioned soda bar at the bakery as well to add a nostalgic touch,” I explain, remembering the long fantasy planning sessions we had when we were baking cakes in my grandma’s kitchen when I was younger.

“It sounds like you guys put a lot of thought into this,” Tyler comments.

“We did,” I agree. “But, after I made Thanksgiving dinner for her one year, she decided maybe I should open a family restaurant instead. She made elaborate plans for me to build all these log cabin themed restaurants. She wanted me to serve rustic comfort food with historical themes. She planned a bunch of themed menus. There was duck a l’orange, pheasants with walnut stuffing, and range fed prime rib with garlic mashed potatoes.”

Ty puts up his hands in a gesture of timeout. “Stop! My mouth is watering and I just ate. That sounds phenomenal too. I’m beginning to see your dilemma here. Is there an idea you feel more attached to than the other? What about location? Would you stay in the Willamette Valley or would you come to Texas or would you go back to the Boston area where you’re from?”

I sigh as I bury my head in my hands, “Tyler, I think I’m going to need way more than a few sticky notes to do this. I didn’t even think about location. How do I even start making a decision like that? I know where I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be in Boston where my parents can be looking over my shoulder and judging every move I make,” I comment wryly.

Tyler chuckles as he says, “See, this isn’t so hard. You’ve already made a decision. One down, about a hundred thousand to go.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh goody! I can’t wait,” I reply sarcastically.

“You know, you can get mentors for this kind of thing.”

“I’m definitely going to have to check into that because if I screw up again, my family is never going to let me live it down,” I reply.

“Personally, I think you worry a little too much about what they think of you. If my family had done to me what yours did to you, I would’ve written them off a long time ago.”

“You’re right, I probably should’ve. But, they’re not wrong about me. I was too naïve and trusting. I let Fletcher Heaves get away with everything. I should’ve known better and I didn’t. So, even though he was the one who committed the crime, it was ultimately my responsibility because I let him into my life,” I explain, remembering how horrible and betrayed I felt when I discovered the depth of his duplicity.

“Gidget, you can’t know what you don’t know yet. You know now and it’s not likely to ever happen to you again. You’re much more cautious now than you ever were before, right?” he asks gently.

I nod.

“Then you learned from the experience and that’s all anyone can ask. The fact that they keep beating you up over it is akin to bullying and it’s not fair. You need to tell them to knock it off. They’re your family, they’re supposed to love you despite your mistakes. I don’t understand this hyper-criticalness and it’s starting to piss me off. Why aren’t they in your corner supporting you?” he asks. 

“That’s a question I’ve asked myself far too many times to count. I don’t think there’s a real answer,” I respond. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an outsider’s view of my family dynamics. I had forgotten what an odd bunch we can appear to be. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the best he can do. My mom seems happy with him. My brother doesn’t seem to have any issues with my dad and my sister seems to make both my parents happy. So, maybe it's just me who doesn't fit in.”

“I don’t know, I might consider it a blessing if I were you,” Tyler quips.

I scrunch up my face and stick out my tongue as I say, “You just think you’re too cute don’t you, Tyler Colton?”

“Yes ma’am. Don’t you?” he replies as he tips his hat in a gallant manner.

I leisurely ogle him as he sits semi-sprawled in the booth with his foot propped up on the chair next to him. In honor of meeting my family, he’s upgraded his wardrobe to ‘formal urban cowboy’. Today, he’s wearing a black dress shirt with the sleeves folded up to his mid-forearms and some skin-tight black jeans with his black cowboy boots with silver embellishments. He is wearing a black belt with a silver eagle on it superimposed over the image of the twin towers. It’s a simple but imposing look when you stick it on a frame as large as his. He gives new meaning to the word sexy.

I wink at him as I tease, “Actually, I do. But, I’m afraid if I tell you too many times. Your ego might just get overinflated like a big ole’ party balloon and pop. I simply can’t run the risk of you injuring yourself like that.”

“I could work with that, Gidget, because then you’d have to play nurse which could be all sorts of fun.”

The word hits me hard, like a punch to the gut. “Did I tell you my grandma used to be a nurse? She worked on soldiers during the Korean War. That’s how she met my grandpa. She was so proud of that. She had a career back in the day when it was unusual for women to work. Apparently, she had to fight her dad to get his approval too. Maybe that’s why we were such kindred spirits. She never gave up her nurturing nature. She was forever taking in strays. Stray people, stray animals, or stray causes— it didn’t matter. If you needed help, my grandparents were there to give you a hand. It was always remarkable to me.”

Tyler kisses the back of my hand as he comments, “Sounds like someone else I know.”

“It’s funny, you would never have guessed my grandpa was a high-powered oil executive. He wore these beat up flannel shirts and thermal underwear around town with his overalls most of the time. If he had to get all spiffied up to go into town for a business meeting, folks didn’t quite know what to do with him. It was pretty funny. If he and my grandma decided to dress to the nines, they were pretty much unrecognizable.” I snicker at a private memory. Tyler squeezes her hand as he waits for me to continue. 

“Every once in a while, I think they did it just for the shock value. They took great pleasure in shocking my mom’s side of the family who came from old money and were from generations of cultured society in North Carolina. My grandpa knew that he could probably buy them many times over, but simply didn’t give a rat’s ass. He didn’t really give them an idea of who he was in the business world because he didn’t feel like he needed to show off. After years of being judged harshly for being a backward country hick, the opportunity arose in a business setting for grandpa to take over my other grandpa’s business. My grandpa didn’t make a big to-do or fuss, he simply bought the business and fired all of the executives including my other grandpa. That story became the stuff of family legend. Nobody messed with my grandpa after that.”

Tyler chuckles softly at my story. “Wow, I see you get your moxie honestly.” 

“Oh Tyler, I am going to miss them so much,” I say as I wipe tears from my face with the back of my hand.

Ty stands up and removes a handkerchief from his back pocket as he holds out his hand to draw me to a standing position. He dabs at my tears with it. When he finishes, he tucks the handkerchief back into his pocket and holds his arms open wide.

Wordlessly, I walk into them. I’m still baffled by the feeling of home I feel when I’m in his arms. This shouldn’t feel so right. A few months ago, we didn’t even know each other. Now, he feels like the compass ’s keeping my world upright.

Tyler folds me into a tight hug and rests his chin on the top of my head. For the longest time, we just stand there, like a quiet statue in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the truck stop. In the background I hear the distant clanking of dishes and the vacant chatter of patrons discussing the news of the day and sporting events, yet, the sound echoes the loudest in my mind is the sound of my heart beating in syncopation with Ty’s. It’s a comforting rhythm soothes my frazzled nerves. I sigh in contentment and settle into a more comfortable position on Ty’s shoulder. As he feels me relax, he hugs me a little tighter I can feel him grin against my hair.

“Happy?” I murmur against his chest.

“Anytime I’ve got you in my arms, I’m downright ecstatic. Of course I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It is nice isn’t it?” I concede. “I feel like I don’t ever want to leave.”

“I don’t recall asking you to,” Ty murmurs as he pulls away and kisses me. This wasn’t a nice pleasant peck on the cheek either. This was a deep exploratory kiss, filled with need and passion. When he breaks off the kiss, we are both breathing heavily. 

Just then, a trucker sitting at the counter yells out, “Get a room why don’t you?”

Ty looks at me and raises an eyebrow in question. “With the atmosphere you’ve got going on at your grandma’s house it sounds like a spectacular idea to me. Are you game?” he asks.

The question stops me cold. Am I game? I have a reputation for being out there and adventurous, but the truth of the matter is since I’ve been burned, I’m much more cautious than I once was. This would be a step that I don’t know we could retreat from. But, then again I don’t know we would want to.

“Come on Darlin’, we’re not creating world peace here, we’re just deciding where we’re going to spend the night,” Ty teases after I’ve been silent for a long time.

“I know,” I respond, “but this could be a big deal. It may have ramifications for the rest of our relationship.”

Tyler shrugs and runs his hand through his hair. “I really think you’re overthinking this Gidget. I have no grand plan of seduction. I’m just trying to make the situation less stressful for you. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything you don’t want. If it makes you feel any better, we can get one of those executive suites where there are two rooms,” he offers.

I can’t help but smile at his assessment of me. “Welcome to ‘Over Thinkers Anonymous’. It’s part of the reason why I have a hard time making a decision. I want to make sure I’ve weighed every option carefully. Because, the few times I’ve just gone with my heart, it’s ended in disaster for me. Now, I sometimes find myself paralyzed and unable to make any decision for fear I’ll make the wrong one—even when it comes to small things like where I’ll spend the night on vacation or where to go out to eat.”