Gilda woke with the sun and packed her small suitcase. She still smiled every time she thought of Alvin’s kindness in asking his sister to donate clothes to a stranger. It was nice to know that kindness still existed, and Gilda figured she could do worse than trying to get a job and make a life in Duluth, even though a few days earlier, she wouldn’t have been able to point it out on a map. It seemed like a nice enough place to start fresh. Maybe Gilda and Patsy could become friends and someday look back and laugh at how their relationship started with Gilda in a wedding dress surrounded by wadded up napkins and gravy running down her dress.
At breakfast, Gilda thanked Colleen for her hospitality and then squared away her bill before leaving for the diner. Colleen asked if she wanted her to hold the room, just in case, but Gilda was adamantly opposed to the idea. “I’m going to get this job, Colleen! I need to believe it going into the meeting. I have nowhere else to go. I need a fresh start.” Colleen hugged her and wished her luck. Tony and the others said goodbye, and Gilda felt like Dorothy saying goodbye to the kindly munchkins in Oz. It had been a strange minor blip, but now it was time to get back to real life, whatever it was to be.
She took a seat in the diner and ordered an orange juice. Alvin wasn’t there, but a nice server named Joy took care of Gilda, who told Joy she was waiting for someone, but didn’t know what he looked like. Joy said, “If it’s Tom Perry, he’s headed this way.” Before Gilda could turn to look, Joy leaned down and whispered, “Girl, if you don’t take him, I will! Half the women in this town want Tom Perry and the other half probably do too, but won’t admit it ‘cause they’re married!”
Tom approached the booth and Gilda maintained her composure, even though Colleen and Joy were right. Tom looked like a young Paul Newman. He extended his hand to shake hers, and Joy asked if he wanted a cup of coffee. He nodded and said, “Thanks, honey,” which flustered Joy and made Gilda cringe inside. One of those guys, huh? “So,” he said, pointing to Gilda’s suitcase, “you took my advice and brought your things?”
“Well, yes. I guess we’ll see how the interview goes.”
“All I really need to know is if you have a good work ethic, because I have a lot of work for you. Course, I’ll be working too. I got me something of a fixer-upper, you see.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll need someone to cook, clean, do some laundry. It’ll be for me at first because I’ll be renovating a property. I’ll be working from sunup to sundown and can’t get to the daily chores the way I should.”
“Sure, I understand. Well, I’m not opposed to hard work. I helped my mom take care of all six of my younger brothers and sisters back in Iowa.”
“Iowa, huh? So I guess you’re used to the snow. You like the cold?”
“Not at all. I was planning to move to California, but things change I guess.”
“Tell you what. I like you. You seem like a good horse to bet on. Let’s do this.”
“Huh?”
“You’re hired!”
“Really?”
Tom stood up and set some cash on the table. He nodded to Joy and said to keep the change. He picked up Gilda’s suitcase and said, “What’s your name?” She answered, and he said, “I’m going to call you Goldie. You have hair like sunshine. Would that be okay?” Gilda shrugged and thought if Tom had any intentions of wooing her, he may as well think again. His charms might work on Joy, and apparently half the women in Duluth, but she wasn’t falling for it. She was only interested in one thing: starting over. And it didn’t include a smooth-talking man who referred to all women as honey.
She followed him outside and asked where his place was, and he said, “Just a couple of plane rides away.” She raised an eyebrow and said, “Excuse me?”
“Ever hear of Turtle Island?”
“No?”
“Me neither,” he said, laughing. “But I won a house in a poker game and Fred McLean says it’s a bit of a fixer upper.”
Gilda stood on the curb next to a cab that had pulled up. Tom opened the door, pointed to the backseat and said, “You want the job, right?” Gilda’s mouth hung open. “Tick Tock,” he said, “We have a plane to catch! Our new life awaits. Unless you’d rather stay here?”
Goldie sat up in bed, looked at the clock, and asked Tom if he wanted a snack. He shook his head, and she reminded him he needed to eat something with the pain pills. He agreed to a slice of toast, and Goldie went downstairs to get it for him.
Ben was in the living room unloading stacks of tools and books and odds and ends he’d brought in from his truck. When Goldie asked what he was doing, he said he was returning some things he’d borrowed from Tom. “I should’ve brought them back a long time ago,” he said, his voice cracking. Goldie sat Ben down on the sofa and put her hand on his knee. Ben tried in vain to suppress the tears, and his mother whispered, “I know, Benny. I know.”
Goldie slid over to the far end of the sofa and motioned for Ben. He lay on his side, his head resting in his mother’s lap like he used to do when he had childhood migraines. Goldie stroked his hair and gave him permission to cry. In that moment, Ben was ten years old again, and Goldie relished the feeling of her son needing her after so many years of shooing away her affections, rolling his eyes when she offered advice, and acting as if she were his lowest priority. She understood boys grew into men in their own eyes, but they never do in the eyes of their mothers, which caused more than a few ruffled feathers over the years.
Goldie stroked Ben’s hair, which was an inch too long, but she resisted the urge to tell him that out loud. She asked if he remembered the time Tom had to fly back to Minnesota and spend a month with Grandma Dee Dee while she was dying. “Yeah,” Ben whispered, “he had me run The Pink Octopus while he was away. He said while he was gone, I was the man of the family, and he made me promise to take care of you, Sharon, and Lucinda.”
“And do you remember how Sharon and Lucinda sneaked a boat out on the water, threw down the anchor, and couldn’t get it out of the mud to head home?
“A couple of dummies,” Ben joked.
“Well,” Goldie said, tugging on a strand of Ben’s hair, “do you remember who saved the day?”
“Me, and they still never said thank you.”
Goldie gently pushed Ben up so he could sit and look at her. She took him by the chin and said, “Benny? We’re going to need you to step up and be the man of the family again, but this time for good.” Ben’s face twisted into a look of utter grief, and Goldie pulled him in for a hug. “The best news,” she whispered, “is that I know like I know like I know you can do it. You’ve turned out to be a wonderful man, and I trust you with the business and with our lives, Ben.”
“How do I live in a world where Dad doesn’t exist?”
“If I figure that out, I’ll let you know because I’m asking myself the same thing, Ben.”
Goldie got Ben a muffin and a glass of orange juice, and while he ate, she told him what Morty said about the kids saying goodbye to their father. She suggested Ben take Tom fishing the next day on the boat, and when Ben asked how a person says goodbye to his father forever, Goldie suggested he find a good spot, throw down the anchor, and let the conversation unfold naturally. Ben agreed and said he’d be back the next morning at ten.
Goldie hugged him goodbye, browned a slice of toast, and made her way back upstairs to Tom.