Page 71 of Pity Present
“Wait, what? Are you serious? You met an honest-to-God lumberjack up there?”
I unzip my dress and step out of it while telling her, “He’s not really a lumberjack, he’s a barista.”
“He makes coffee for a living?” She does not sound impressed.
“He’s from Chicago,” I tell her. “But he’s lived in LA for the last ten years.”
“Is he a starving actor or something?”
“No. He’s a barista.”
“Molly,” Ellen sounds disappointed, “you can do better than that.”
“I really like him, Ellie. He’s kind and sweet, and oh, boy is he easy on the eyes.”
“How old is he?” she demands abruptly.
I try to remember if he told me how old he was when he moved to LA, but assuming it was right after college, I tell her, “Thirty-two, I think.”
“And he makes coffee for a living.”
“Who cares what he does, Ellen? He’s lovely.”
“Does he live in Elk Lake? Because if so, you’ll rarely get to see him. Maybe you should distance yourself now before you get in too deep.”
I don’t know why, but I thought my sister would be more open-minded than this. Although, as I recall, the thing she liked most about Kyle was that he was a lawyer. I remind her, “Kyle made a ton of money, and you know what happened there.”
“Yes, but …” She seems to be at a loss for words, which is not like Ellen at all.
“Please be happy for me, Ellie. Trust that I can pick my own guy and just let it go.”
“But you’ve just met him. How can you know he’syourguy?”
Crawling into bed, I tell her, “I met him the night I got here. He’s staying at the lodge for a work thing.”
“What kind of work thing requires a coffee maker to stay at such a nice place?” Wow, Ellen really is a snob.
“I don’t know the particulars,” I lie. “This might be nothing more than a flirtation, but I’m having fun, so that’s a good thing, right?”
“I guess …” Yeah, she’s not convinced.
“How are you doing?” I hurry to ask. “Are you at Mom and Dad’s?”
“I’m here.”
“What about Henry? Have you heard from him?”
“Not a word.”
She sounds surprised, so I tell her, “He’s probably in shock.”
“I don’t know why. He’s the one who broke up with me.”
Nestling under the covers, I remind her, “Yeah, but he thought you were going to get engaged. I’m sure your lack of excitement threw him off.”
“You’re saying this is my fault?” Ellen accuses. It’s clear her dander is up.
I don’t want to hurt her feelings, and I will always be there for my sister, but facts are facts. “Isn’t it?”
