“Alright,” Finn says with a sigh. Good god, he’s built like a brick shithouse laid on top of a brick shithouse on top of a deluxe, ultra, really insanely good looking, top of the line, super expensive, go all out type of brick shithouse. “Just tell me, and we’ll call it a day.”
“Call it a day? It’s still morning.”
“Will you please just tell me?” he says with a roll of his eyes.
I think I know why this guy is single. He might be built like the most handsome of beings ever reproduced with everything perfect and rock hard in the world and an added sprinkling of extra yum just to drive us mere mortals insane, but he’s not very nice. I was also warned about that. Over the years, Henry had many discussions with me about his grandson.
It’s not that he’s a bad person. I just know he’s a workaholic, is very guarded, and would never dream of leaving the city. I know Henry’s company is everything to Finn, and that’s what Henry was most worried about. That the company and all the wealth and lifestyle which comes with having money, but mostly just the work, was taking over Finn’s life, leaving no room for anything else.
I also know Finn likes things neat and orderly. He’s very detail-oriented and is extremely meticulous, which is why I know my lifestyle is going to drive him completely bananas. Henry knew that too. We laughed about it when he told me all about what was going down in his will. Then we cried together because making a will meant he wasn’t going to be around anymore. He knew he was sick, but he still came to see me a month before he passed away. I think I knew it too, the second I saw him. He didn’t look well. It broke my heart and then some.
Finn, on the other hand, is no consolation at all.
In fact, Finn’s a bit of a poophole since he’s tapping his foot like I’m the one annoying him when he didn’t take the time or even bother to find out anything about his grandfather beyond the motorhome business he cares so much about.
“I know you don’t know this because Henry himself told me that you never knew, but he had other companies. Other businesses. One of them designed—well, they still do, I guess—wheelchairs. Earlier, I said it’s for special needs pets, but it’s not just that. They design wheelchairs for people as well.”
“What? No, he didn’t. And no, they don’t.”
“I promise you; they do. I have all the paperwork to prove it, and I’ve known your grandfather for years. He visited me quite often, here at the sanctuary. They had never built a wheelchair for a turkey before, and he came out here to work on the drawings himself. He was good at that. I know you know him as this guy who designs motor homes, but he was so much more brilliant than that. He had a huge heart, and he was an incredible man.”
Finn then surprises me by doing two things I don’t expect. One, he blushes. Or maybe it’s rage making his cheeks red. The second is his eyes appear to mist over as he sniffs hard and mumbles something about filth, dirt, and hay fever.
I let him get away with it because yeah, being told that a grandfather you did love but didn’t know half of had allowed a stranger into their life and heart, and you missed out on so much because you were too busy doing other important stuff, is really hard. I’m also sensitive to the fact that Henry did just pass away. It has to be harder for Finn than it was for me, and believe me when I say, after I got the news, I had some long conversations with every animal here. I cried—a lot. Often. And then some.
“If you want to take your stuff inside, there are four bedrooms—two on top and two on the main floor. The second floor has been cleaned out for you, and there’s a bathroom up there that’s all yours. We can talk later.”
I want to give the guy a bit of a break. He’s here in a place he doesn’t want to be, about to live a totally different lifestyle just so he can keep his old one. He’s already lost his grandfather and everything familiar. This was sprung on him like an evil, barbaric mousetrap, although no, I don’t use those because I prefer the humane traps. Anyway, he’s in for a big culture shock. I’m not going to be mean about this stuff, just like I’m not going to be attracted to him.
Wait! What the fickle pickle was that? I’m not going to be attracted to him? Duh. Of course I’m not going to be attracted to him. Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean I’m attracted or will be. There’s a difference, obviously. Double duh.