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“What about a Mrs. Grandpa Bob?” Dylan asks.
“Dylan!”
Grandpa and I both chuckle a little. We’re often asked that question.
“Unfortunately, that devil known as cancer took her when Mae’s mother was in high school. She was the love of my life, so I never bothered looking for another.”
“Wow. That’s so much loss,” says Dean. “I have to apologize for how nosey the Cornel men have been today.”
“Like I said, it’s fine. We’d rather be open with everything instead of closed off. That doesn’t do anything to honor any of their memories. It might be hard to remember, but it's much better than forgetting,” Grandpa offers.
“That’s a great way of looking at it.” Dean reaches across the table to squeeze my hand, then realizing precisely what he’s doing, he snatches it back with a sheepish smile. My heart flutters again, and I wonder if I should make an appointment with a cardiologist. Dean might be handsome, kind, and a great father, but there’s no way I’m falling for the neighbor with the devilish look in his eyes. Right?
I clear my throat and add: “Plus, it teaches you to cherish every day that you have. Life is so precious, you know?”
“Absolutely.”
After that, I hold my tongue. There are so many questions I want to ask Dean about his life, but I get the sense that he’s more guarded than Grandpa Bob and me when it comes to talking about the past.
“Oh!” I suddenly exclaim. “There’s a peach cobbler in the fridge. Mina, would you mind going over and getting it? Sorry to ask you again.”
“Sure. It’s no problem.”
I’m starting to think that having this Dylan around is pretty great. Mina’s obviously not arguing with me so she doesn’t look bad in front of him.
“I brought dessert plates, too,” she announces when she returns.
“Great thinking.”
I dish out a piece for everyone.
“Mmm! Delicious!” I hear in waves. And I smile to myself, because this cobbler? …definitely store-bought. But the less the handsome neighbor knows about my cooking prowess, the better.
Chapter seven
Dean – Saving the Bees
“Why did you vote ‘no,’ Dad?” Dylan asks after our guests have gone. “Do you really think the bee thing is a bad idea?”
“Well, I was kind of conflicted. I didn’t want us to commit to a task that’d require us to be here long-term. You know that isn’t the plan.”
“I know, but—”
“However, the more I thought about it, I figured it would be a good way for us to make ‘good’ with the Dale family, and once I finally build Cornel Condominiums, maybe we can have beekeeping classes available or something.”
“Oh, good idea. Maybe Dwight could teach them.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
I’m proud of him for thinking along similar lines as me, but there’s also a part of me—deep down—that feels sad that I’m raising him to be so conniving. Shaking off any negative feelings I remind myself that in the past I was a lot more trusting and got sucker punched by my wife leaving me for another man. I vowed that would never happen again. So, I joined my father’s company and became who I am today.
If I can save my son from dealing with the pain I did, I’m going to do it. He’s already experienced the hardship of having his mother abandon him. He doesn’t need to face any others.
Sure, she sends the occasional birthday card, but they’re usually a week or two late, and she only signs them with “Love, Mom.” He usually just throws them out as soon as they arrive.
No matter how angry I am at Anna, I’ve tried to have very little control or say over their relationship. Whatever effort she wants to put in is her business. However, how he chooses to accept that is his.
My job is just to be the best father to him that I can be. And right now, that involves reaching out to the eccentric Dwight Summers to talk about bees.
