Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
“She’s at an age now,” Oneida continues, “where she’d perform so well in pageants. She’s such a beautiful girl.”
“They’re all beautiful,” I interject stiffly. “Lupe hates pageants. And just because one looks like your side of the family and the other two look like mine doesn’t make one better than the others.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Oneida gasps. “I resent what you’re implying.”
“And I resent you thinking you can control me or my girls through your money.”
“That is not at all what I’m doing,” Oneida returns hotly. “What Edward ever saw in you I don’t know.”
“I believe it was my ass and the fact that I basically put him through grad school. He knew my ambition was to raise a family and build a wonderful life for them and decided he should be the primary beneficiary of all this talent.”
“Look, do you want the money or not?” she snaps, her tone as frigid as a Boston winter.
“Not if it comes with strings. You don’t get to tell me how to raise my daughters or run my household or anything. By necessity we’ve built a life for ourselves that doesn’t include Edward, and by choice I want to keep it that way. If you want any role in my daughters’ lives, you need to figure out what’s important. Defending your lying-ass criminal son and constantly demeaning me or finding some way to be in your grandchildren’s lives that aligns with our values. You don’t get both.”
The silence on the other end elongates, stretchy and sticky.
“Keep the money,” she finally mutters. “They’re my son’s daughters. They deserve the best.”
The obvious implication that I do not rolls right off my back. There was a time when my pride wouldn’t have let me keep this money, would have had me tossing it in her face—a grand gesture I can no longer afford. I’m depositing this check as soon as I hang up.
“You’re right, Oneida,” I simply reply. “They do.”
And with that we disconnect.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SOLEDAD
You’ve checked everything like four times,” Rhea says, spooning fondant potatoes onto gold-rimmed plates. “I think we’re good to go.”
“We wouldn’t be without your help.” I start one more circuit around the Callahans’ huge kitchen, inspecting the plates we’ve loaded up so far. “Thank you for everything.”
“Hey, thank you. I love cooking at Grits, but anytime I can make some extra cash, I’m down.” She smiles. “Besides, I’m low-key clout chasing. When I post that I did an event with you, I’m bound to get new followers and lots of engagement.”
I shoot her a disbelieving look. “Whatever. Just make sure to keep the shots generic. I don’t want the Callahans thinking we put their business in the streets.”
“Will do, Boss.”
CalPot booked ten servers for the fifty people attending the party. These are skilled workers who do events all the time and could handle this with one hand tied behind their backs, but I still review the plan for the evening with them carefully, leaving time for questions or suggestions about more efficient ways to manage the dinner.
“I think we’re about ready,” I tell them, walking down the line to high-five them. “Let’s do it.”
“Perfect timing,” Delores says from the kitchen entrance. “I was just coming to say we’re ready when you are.”
“Great. Then they’ll get the food out.”
“Not so fast.” Delores raises a staying hand. “I’d like for you to open by providing an overview of the menu.”
“Me?” I press a hand to my chest. Preparing the food and making sure it’s plated beautifully is one thing. Walking out there and facing a room full of Edward’s former coworkers is another. “But doesn’t your mother usually give opening remarks before dinner? I wouldn’t want to step on her toes.”
“She’s the one who requested it, actually.” Delores tips her grin to one side. “She heard you’re like an internet sensation.”
“But I’m not.” I shake my head vigorously. “It’s just a lot of views on a pretty ordinary salad dressing.”
“Ma wears the pants here at home.” Delores shrugs. “What Ma wants, Ma gets.”
“But we agreed that—”
“I know. I know.” Delores waves a dismissive hand. “You didn’t want to see anybody, but you’re just telling us about the menu and then you can skedaddle.”
Hmmm. I got her skedaddle right here.
This is not what I signed up for. It was only a year ago I was on the other side of that door as a guest, complaining about the food. Tonight, I’m serving it. I’m the help, aren’t I? My name is mud here.
Correction.
Edward’s name is mud. I did nothing wrong. As a matter of fact, I did something right. I turned over evidence I found and helped this family, this company, recover millions of dollars. And instead of losing our home, we are still in it.
I did that.
I glance down at my clothes. I’m not bummy, but I’m not dressed for a dinner party. The black vegan leather dress buttons up the center and clings to all my curves but is easy to move in. And though I wore my low-heeled boots mostly for comfort, they aren’t shabby. I guess I’ll do, but the plan was to help set up, give direction, and leave it in Rhea’s more-than-capable hands. It wasn’t to see these people Edward cheated and stole from. It certainly wasn’t to see Judah, but I’m avoiding him for a very different reason. I’ve been dating myself, reading about loving myself, and enjoying the community of women who have joined me on this journey. I don’t want this persistent attraction to Judah distracting me from what I’m learning and who I am becoming.