DISCLAIMER:Don't Own it. No Money Made... Just for fun and enjoyment.
A/N: Wow! You guys have been tearing through these chapter pretty fast... Guess I better get busy and finish the one that I've been working on for the last 5 days, because I'm only 4 chapters ahead of you now :O No worries though, I've only been stalled, not really stuck. And I have 2 betas which have been giving me plenty of pep talks to get over the hump... Boy, that was a really bad pun, and I didn't even realize it until I had written it... Guess you'll have to wait to see why;)
REVIEWS: Thanks to all who have reviewed. Your reviews have been like honey for me over the last fews days, thank you so much for taking the time. :D
Chapter 40
"Am I glad to see YOU!" Thomas greeted them at the door with great enthusiasm, and it caused Gil to flush slightly.
He recovered quickly and made room for Catherine to enter the townhouse, "Well, there's a statement I'm not used to."
Catherine shimmied past him, carrying her punchbowl set, which she would not allow Gil to so much as touch, "It was bound to happen eventually… Hey, Thomas. Are they in the kitchen?"
He shook his head and held out his hands to try and relieve her of the burden, "Can I-."
Catherine quickly pulled it away from his reach and Gil laughed, "Sorry, pal… She's more protective of that bowl than she is her kid."
"The bowl has been around a lot longer, and would be harder to replace." They all had a good laugh and Catherine left the two men in the foyer.
They both watched her go into the kitchen before Gil had to speak in order to break the silence, "So, what can I do?"
Thomas smacked his forehead with his hand and turned a little red at having to be reminded what he was doing. Just as he was about to explain, a voice came calling out of the kitchen, "Hey honey, why don't you get Uncle Gil to help you with that table? He has more experience putting together complicated puzzles than you."
The younger man had to shrug an affirmation to Gil, and the men smiled at the humor of the situation, "Right… I only work with meat puzzles, dear."
Stephanie suddenly appeared from the kitchen holding a large knife, "And if you don't get the wood puzzle together, you'll find out just how good I am at disassembling meat puzzles, Thomas Patrick."
That time Thomas cringed, and nodded his head dutifully. When he turned to Gil to have him follow him into the dining area, the older man had a few words of advice for him, "You don't want that demonstration… I've seen her work from the beginning, and even I would have trouble getting all the pieces back in the general vicinity." They were both laughing as they entered the dining area to get started.
The directions were consulted, the parts were catalogued and a plan of attack was devised. The entire ordeal took exactly thirty minutes to complete. Which was the precise amount of time it took for the ladies to arrive at the conclusion that they needed to get the table set before the first guests were scheduled to arrive.
Stephanie inspected their work and declared the scene to be safe for the kitchen crew to get started. She walked over to Gil and placed a kiss upon his cheek, "Thanks for helping out, again." He blushed at the gesture, and then looked down at his hands.
When he realized that he was in dire need of some tidying up, he excused himself, "I really should get cleaned up before your guests think ill of my manners." He headed off down the hall to the washroom by the back door.
Stephanie called after him, "Uncle Gil! Use the bathroom at the top of the stairs. Thomas has his valet thingy in there and you'll be more comfortable in there anyway. Not so girly."
He turned around and walked back to the kitchen, "Stephie, the washroom is fine."
"No seriously, I have that one all set up for the party," She was speaking very matter of fact, but Gil was sensing a trap. "And if you go upstairs you can take your time and not have to worry about being disturbed."
"Stephanie Gayle, just what are you cooking up this time?" Gil shot her one of his patented exaggerated raised eyebrows with his question. Everyone else in the room stopped in their tracks and held their breath.
"Please… Like I could get away with anything with all these witnesses. Quit being paranoid and go make yourself pretty again." Stephanie was cool and collected, not even stopping her work to respond to his accusation. "Your hair is all messed up and you've got something in your beard, I just figured it'd be easier for you to clean up in Thomas' bathroom. He's got all that man stuff up there." She finally looked up at him and her face was a perfect stone.
"Man stuff?"
Thomas had to laugh at that one, "Sorry, she thinks that anything used to promote or manage what she considers superfluous hair is man stuff, simply because I think that anything used to remove excess hair in her bathroom is 'woman stuff.'" Both of their explanations seemed plausible and Gil relented.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he was almost certain he heard someone say something to the effect that they thought they had been caught. There was something going on in this house tonight, and he figured he was just going to have to wait and see what it was, since it would appear as though they had gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange it for him.
Once inside the bathroom, Gil realized that this was indeed a far better choice than the washroom for cleaning up. And, upon inspecting himself in the mirrors, he decided that he could use some serious sprucing up. After all, Catherine had been very specific about him looking good tonight. So, he removed his trousers and placed them in the steam press portion of the valet and hung his jacket on the back of the door. When he realized that he would need to wet his hair and washout the small bit of bolt grease which had gotten into his beard during the table operation he decided to also remove his dress shirt. After cleaning out the grease from his silver rich beard, he set about to fix his hair once again. However, when he raised his arms, he realized that his undershirt bore the fruits of his labors, as well as the smell. That was when the dilemma hit him, should he discard the shirt and hope for the best in regards to his dress shirt, or stick with it and pray the smell was not overpowering. The answer was given to him when he lowered his nose to inspect the situation more closely. Ditch the undershirt.
There he stood, in nothing but his skivvies, giving his underarms a quick cleaning to avoid any other odors escaping. He tossed the undershirt into the waste can and looked through the cabinets in search of some deodorant that he could borrow. When he found it at last, he was never so pleased to see a toiletry bag in his life. He guessed that Thomas kept his things in the bag because of the nature of his job. Gil was able to keep a small stash of items in his office, but he figured that the only space a surgery resident would have was a locker. The tattered nature of the bag also gave him an idea of something to get the young man for a gift.
Finally, he was clean, coiffed and presentable; except for the fact that he needed to get dressed again. He quickly pulled on his shirt, buttoning each button and replacing the cufflinks which he had managed not to drop in the sink, for a change. Next came the trousers, which were now perfectly pressed. He commented to himself that this young man of Stephanie's at least understood the value of looking presentable. One of Gil's greatest pet peeves was to see someone dressed in a rumpled suit. Was it really so hard to iron a pair of pants and shirt? Once he was certain his shirt and trousers were properly aligned, he reached for his tie. That was when his carefully laid plans had been dashed. It had taken him twenty minutes to get that knot just right, and in stuffing it into his jacket pocket, he had knocked it loose.
He nearly came out of his skin when a knock came to the door, "Uncle Gil? Are you decent?"
He heaved a huge sigh after his fright and answered, "I'm dressed, if that's what you mean." He opened the door to find her smiling, "But I'm afraid decent might be a stretch."
Stephanie immediately noticed that his tie was messed up and she took it right off his neck. "Aw…let me fix it for you." She finished undoing the tie and then turned him around, marching him back in front of the bathroom mirror, as she stood behind him. "This was always my favorite part of the day."
"What was that, Steph?"
She threw the tie over his neck and flipped up his collar, "Fixing Pop's tie in the morning. When I was maybe five, I would drag a stool into the bathroom to watch him getting ready for work every morning. We would talk about what I was reading, what you two were doing," She brought the two sides of the tie together at his collar bone and began to tie the knot, "And I would just watch everything he did. I sat there while he shaved, brushed his teeth, combed his hair and put on his tie. I think I was six by the time I had become obsessed with knots. I had Mom show me the knot that Pop used for his tie, and she would make him sit still so I could practice. One night they both declared that I had it down perfectly."
Gil was enjoying the moment with just the two of them, and he enjoyed hearing about her father just as much. "So, after that, I tied his tie every morning. I would stand up on my stool behind his back and tie it for him it while he combed his hair. We would have races to see who would finish first, and I always let him win."
Looking into the mirror, Gil saw that Stephanie's face had taken on a wistful look to it. "It was my time with Pop. And I wanted it to last as long as I could. When I moved into the dorms my last year at Berkeley, Pop called me every morning, so we could talk as I walked to class, while he was getting ready in the bathroom. After a little while, he said that it just wasn't the same for him."
She finished tying the knot, so she just held onto his shoulders, and Gil would not have had it any other way. "He said that he missed getting his neck hugs every morning."
A lone tear made its way down her cheek and Gil was certain his own were not far behind. "Mom said he wouldn't take out his ties at night. Every one had been tied by me, and he was afraid of getting rid of my knots. Told her they were his lucky knots, because whenever he felt the tie gripping his neck, he would imagine that it was me, when I was six, hanging onto his back to tie it for him."
She moved one hand from his shoulder to wipe away the other tears that joined the first. Gil reached up with one of his hands and gave her a tissue from the counter, and with the other hand, he crossed his chest and held onto her remaining hand. "Can you believe that? My Pop was being a sentimental old fool."
"When it came to you, I can believe anything of your father." Gil was looking at the mirror, but he was looking into her eyes, and she was glad for it. "I think you were about six or seven, and you had started putting little notes in the lunches your mother always sent for me. Your father noticed me reading one of them one day, and he just laughed. I was, of course, embarrassed. He told me to treasure those notes, because one day you would grow up and find another man to pin your hopes and dreams to, and leave her two old fossils behind."
Stephanie giggled at his words, and it made his heart sing. "I told him that I couldn't imagine you ever leaving him, because you were in his every thought and deed of every day that he was alive, and that because he and your mother were doing such a good job raising you, that you would feel the same thing."
He turned around and looked her in the eye before asking his question, "And was I right?" She nodded her head and that was when the tears fell for both of them and she fell into his embrace.
They stayed like that for a few moments, and only broke when Thomas appeared in the doorway, "Aw, man, did I miss it already?" Stephanie stood up straight and laughed at his question.
Gil was confused, but Stephanie reached out for Thomas' hand and he gave it to her as he came to stand at her side, "Nope, we were just talking about old times." He kissed her tenderly when he pulled her closer to him for support, and Gil was certain that she had made the right choice. "Uncle Gil, Thomas and I wanted to ask a huge favor of you. I know Pop is with us all the time, but for this I need a body. And I know that if there was anyone he would want to take his place for this, without a doubt, it would be you." They looked at each other for reassurance once more, before she turned to Gil and took his hand in hers, as she looked pleadingly into his eyes, "Would you please walk me down the aisle at our wedding?"
He was not sure quite how it was possible, but he actually felt like the Grinch at the end of that Dr. Seuss Christmas tale, as his heart grew ten sizes inside his chest with the joy he was experiencing. It was too late to try and regain some kind of male bravado, because the tears were streaming down his face as Gil took them both into his arms and embraced them for all he was worth. Right there, in the bathroom, his life changed forever, and he could not have been any happier. When they finally broke apart, Stephanie just had to ask, "Do I take that as a yes?"
Gil shook his head, still working up the brain power to form words, and when they came, it was absolute gold, "No, you can take that as a Hell Yeah!" They all laughed, and his smile was so infectious that there was nothing holding any of them back from the pure joy of the situation.
That was how Catherine found them. "Okay, so obviously everyone is happy, but poor Beth and I have no idea who we just let into your house. So, maybe we can move this little smile fest downstairs?"
Thomas was the first to separate, "I'll head down… You two clean up that mess and join us as fast as you can."
Stephanie quickly looked at her reflection in the mirror and found only a small tear trail that she easily wiped away, "Good thing I'm low maintenance… And that Mom made me wear the waterproof mascara tonight."
"That Beth; always prepared." They shared another laugh and Gil grabbed his jacket from behind the door, but before he could put it on, Stephanie turned and took it from him.
"Come on, you know it's easier when someone holds it out for you when you got cufflinks on." He nodded and turned to allow her to assist him. Once the jacket was on, she smoothed out the shoulders and turned him around to do the same to the lapels. "You always did strike a handsome pose in a suit, Uncle Gil."
As she straightened his tie, he took one more look at her, "And you are striking no matter what you have on, Princess. But this sentimental old fool is looking forward to seeing you in that wedding dress next week." He buttoned his jacket and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. When he turned and stepped out of the bathroom, he stopped in the hallway and held out his arm, "Shall we join the party?"
She could not believe how happy that little scene had made her, but she knew that she would soon be repaying her uncle in spades. Or at least, she hoped everything they had done worked out for him.
