Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Maple

"What do you think of my grandson?"

The question takes me by surprise. I don't know Eddie's grandson, have never met the man, and couldn't pick him out of a lineup if I had to. I have only seen pictures of him, of which Eddie has no shortage of hanging and sitting throughout the house. But what kind of person would I be if I judged a man on his picture alone? Not a very nice one.

"You think he's awful for ignoring a feeble old man like me?"

I have no idea where this line of questioning is coming from, but I know the answer is going to be trickier to navigate than some of these backroads when it snows.

"I think… it doesn't matter what I think. All that matters is what you think of him. I also think you've not been feeble a day in your life."

The old man narrows his eyes at me.

"I think you are very smart. A very smart young lady."

"I've not always been. If I'm smart it's because it's come from years of learning the hard way and making a lot of mistakes."

I turn my attention back to my plate and eat the last bit of food on it. Some people would say I've not had an easy life - being orphaned and on my own at fifteen. I stayed with my aunt for a little while, but she didn't like me very much. She didn't like anyone very much now that I think about it. I barely got through high school and was gone as soon as my graduation cap and gown came off.

Now, I spend my days taking care of a man who might as well be my family as much as I've come to love him. I never thought when I answered the ad in the paper for a companion that I would find someone as sweet and kind as Mr. Eddie. To tell the truth, I was terrified I would get some freaky old man who couldn't keep his hands to himself. Instead, I got a guardian angel who cares about me more than anyone has since my parents passed.

"That's what life is all about, my dear girl. Take it from an old man who knows, making mistakes is a shit ton better than living with regrets."

I give him a rueful smile "That seems fair."

Even as I say the words I realize the irony that I say one thing but live another. One of the reasons I love this job so much is I don't have to put myself out there very much. I can stay hidden away and get paid for it. But it's not really living, is it?

I read and write about things that are so far out of my reach I can't even pretend to understand what I am talking about. If I wrote fucking science fiction it would come off more real - and people would believe it more than what I am writing.

Romance. What the hell do I know about romance? I'm not even sure my parents loved one another. I can't ever remember them being like the couples I read about. They never hugged or held hands or kissed one another. Maybe… I've never known what love was supposed to look like, what it's supposed to be.

But then I look at the man sitting in front of me, and I think about the stories he tells me about his wife and the love that was between his son and daughter-in-law. They seem like they were in love, like real love. The kind I want to write about. The kind I have no fucking right to write about since I don't know anything about it.

"You're awfully quiet today. Is everything okay, dear?"

No!

"Yes. It's nothing to worry about." Just the fact I'm about to be kicked out of my shitty apartment because it's scheduled to be condemned the next time the city council meets and my car is falling apart – it's falling the fuck apart! Oh, and the career I sacrificed everything for is being called into question by an over-zealous, jealous shit of a professor and her class pet who thinks ‘romance isn't real literature'.

I fight to keep from rolling my eyes, so the old man won't worry about me, giving him a forced smile and holding my breath in hopes he won't see through my bullshit. He's already been on me to move into the guest house by the pool. And it's hard as fuck to tell Edmond no in a good situation. Having to lie to him is not something I want to do so I just change the topic.

"Have you thought about what you want to do for the winter gala this year? I realize it's a little early, but I think starting now will help with your stress level. Remember you have to…,"

A commotion at the door has my words halting. Maria, the housekeeper, comes bustling in, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.

"Sir! Sir, it's your grandson! He's coming up the driveway now!"

Wonderful! Now I have to put up with a spoiled playboy who cares more about his precious business than he does his grandfather. Just fucking wonderful!