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“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at me, his eyes earnest. “I’m so sorry about that. I’ll admit to having a personality flaw there.”
“Personality flaw?”
“I don’t like it when things don’t go my way. It was…important to me that you have a good time, and I thought it was ruined. Then I realized my own attitude was likely ruining it for you far more than poor service, so I was angry with myself. I figured you would never want to go out with me again.”
“None of that was your fault.”
“Maybe not, but I did choose the place. In Cascade Falls, I’m used to people bending over backward when it comes to my family, and I wasn’t getting what I wanted.” He lets out a long sigh and then smirks at me. “I think what I’m trying to say is that I’m a spoiled brat at times.”
I’m not sure how I feel about Nate’s confession. It does make him sound like a bratty child, but it’s also good to know he recognizes it as a flaw. That’s a rare quality in anyone. I look at him for a long moment as I wonder what kind of company his family has that makes them so powerful in this town—at least in half of it—and why he’s so vague about what his family does. I contemplate a moment and then decide now is as good a time as any to ask.
“What is your family business, Nate?”
“Real estate,” he says quickly. “That’s the bulk of it, anyway.”
“Which includes maple syrup and a nightclub?”
“Once you amass a certain amount of capital, you find yourself getting into other business ventures.” Nate sits back in the chair a little, looking at me carefully before he speaks again. “The maple syrup plant came from my mother’s family originally. The casino was initially a rental property, but we bought it out when Andrea’s husband passed. The club is the newest expansion for my family, and I’m happy to take the credit for the idea, at the very least. Micha had a big hand in working it out though. So did Antony and Jude.”
“The bartender? Another cousin?”
“Yes, of course.” Nate chuckles softly. “Most of the people who work for the family are related in some way or another—by blood or marriage. The Thrace twins would be the main exception to that rule.”
“How did they start working for you?”
“That’s a long story, and I do have to get to work at some point today,” Nate says. “Remind me later, and I’ll tell you all about it.” He looks at me intently for a moment. “Better yet, if you join me for our family dinner on Wednesday, you could ask them yourself.”
“I’m not sure about that,” I say quietly, looking away.
“Do they frighten you already?”
“Intimidate, mostly.” I glance up as Nate reaches over and places his finger under my chin. “I mean, how big of a table do you have to fit all those people?”
“The dining room seats fourteen,” he replies. He strokes my jaw with his fingers as he looks into my eyes.
I swallow hard, seriously considering agreeing to anything and everything he might want, but when I try to imagine more than a dozen people sitting at the same table, my stomach knots up.
“Fourteen is a lot,” I say quietly. “Our dining room table sat six, but I don’t think we ever had more than four people there at once.”
“Our table isn’t often full,” Nate says. “Please don’t feel intimidated. We’re really a pretty laid-back bunch when it comes to family dinner. It might look a little formal, but it isn’t.”
“Formal?” My stomach drops as I try to figure out if I own anything to wear to a formal dinner.
“Just in the place setting,” Nate clarifies. “No one dresses up for it, not anymore. Back in the day, I understand it was quite an affair, but now the household is run by us millennials, and we don’t give a shit about such things.”
I snicker, and Nate smiles as he strokes my chin once more before dropping his hand. He collects our empty trays and their domes, placing them back in the bags.
“The remaining syrup is a gift for you,” he says. He screws the lid of the little glass bottle on tight before placing it in the refrigerator. “No Eastsider’s home should be without some Rosa’s syrup in the fridge.”
He’s given me the perfect opportunity, and I can’t let it slide.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” I say. “What is with the whole rivalry regarding cardinal directions in this town?”
“You really do want the long, drawn-out stories, don’t you?” Nate laughs. “The very short version is that a business rivalry between my family and the Ramsay family caused a lot of turmoil back in the sixties, primarily over real estate development. My grandfather, also named Nataniele Orso, along with Kelvin Ramsay agreed to split the town in half to stop from constantly getting in each other’s way. As the lines were drawn up, a lot of people in town took it to heart. People started moving from west to east and east to west, depending on whose business practices they preferred. Since then, people stick to one side or the other.”
“That’s it?” I narrow my eyes. It’s too simple an explanation to account for all the discord I’ve witnessed in my short time here, and I’m sure he’s leaving out something important.
“I did say that was the short version.”
