Keith gave him a hard pat. “I figured that. It’s my treat.”
Elly looked up at Keith. “You don’t have to do that. Keith, this is my problem.” Elly realized how bad that sounded and looked sheepishly at Dennis. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not a problem.”
Dennis flipped the hair out of his eyes like he didn’t care, but Elly could feel waves of sadness wafting off him. She turned back to Keith. “I will pay for the hotel.”
Keith shrugged. “Whatever you think. You’ve had a hard day—the interview, this … just, it’s really okay.”
The interview. Elly had totally forgotten about it. Suddenly, it didn’t really matter. “Does that sound okay to you … Dennis?” The word felt odd and heavy on her tongue. Dennis. Huh.
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Sure. Whatever. Can I eat now?”
Elly tried to smile, but instead found herself close to tears at the despair she felt for him. She clutched the end of the table as a second round of dizziness rushed toward her. “Why don’t I come by the hotel tomorrow and we can talk?”
“Whatever. Can I get my backpack?”
Elly picked it off the ground and handed it to him. “Here.”
Keith walked a hunched-over Dennis to the door. “I’ll be back,” he said to Elly. She nodded silently. “Let’s get you a sandwich,” he said to Dennis.
Dennis peered up at him, his long blond hair hiding his eyes. “Don’t try to be my friend. You punched me in the face. You’re lucky I was taken by surprise, or else I would have schooled your ass.”
Keith bit his lip and nodded. “I’m sure you would have.”
Dennis suddenly turned back to Elly and walked quickly toward her. Her pulse quickened—he still made her nervous. “Here.” He pressed a crumpled piece of paper into her hand. “Now you can hold onto it. I’m done with it.” He hobbled out the door, his long shoelaces dragging behind him.
The door slammed shut, bells rang out loudly. It occurred to Elly that she had heard those bells clank only an hour ago, when Dennis entered the store, and now her life had completely changed. Elly gently placed the note on the consultation table and walked over to the cooler. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She needed to call Kim, she needed to drink a very large glass of wine, and she needed to think, really think about what had just happened, but right now, she needed to design. The need rose up inside of her, the process that brought her such inner peace.
Elly started with dark-purple sweet peas, their fluttery, tiny wings the first to get thrown into the empty mason jar, followed by bright-green spider mums, plum drumstick alliums (which smelled a bit like onions, Elly noted with a wrinkle of her nose), and lush white garden roses, their creamy petals blown shamelessly open to show yellow seeds. She filled the vase until a gorgeous, rich arrangement poured over its side. She placed it in the center of the table, and sat down on the chair, which gave a loud creak. Great, she thought, now I have a homeless half brother and I need new chairs. The thought was so ridiculous it made her laugh and then want to weep uncontrollably. Tears welled in her eyes as Elly unfolded the note. It was on pale-lavender paper and crumpled badly, making the words hard to read. Even then, her mother’s flowing handwriting was unmistakable, a relic from her past. You, Barry Tragar, have a daughter. Her name is Elly Iris Jordan and she is the light of my life. Elly touched the paper softly, missing her mother desperately. Why wasn’t she here, now when I have so, so many questions? Did she know I had a half brother? Did she know that my father treated Dennis terribly?
Why didn’t she tell me if she did?