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To her surprise, Kris enjoyed talking with Gemma. The other woman was warm and friendly; coincidentally, she was also Filipino, which Kris had learned when Gemma mentioned having family in Cebu. Kris was a third-generation Filipino-American—her grandparents had immigrated to America after the passage of the 1965 Immigration Act abolishing quotas based on national origin—and honestly wasn’t that in tune with her heritage, even though there was a large number of Filipino-Americans in Seattle. Her father didn’t observe the same traditions her grandparents—both of whom passed away when Kris was a child—had, and though he spoke Tagalog, he’d never made teaching Kris the language a priority.
The few Tagalog words Kris did know, she’d learned from Rosa…and now Gemma, who’d taken to playfully teaching her a new word or two every time they spoke.
“Hi, Kris.” Gemma’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Just a small chai latte to go today.”
“Sure.” Kris rang her up. If only all customers were like Gemma.
“How are you?” the other woman asked as Kris started making the drink.
“Good. Hanging in there.”Other than the fact that I’m not speaking to my father, and he’s going to marry the Stepmonster in a few months. Oh, and I’m broke and will have to leave the guy I love in one week. To add insult to injury, the heel on my favorite pair of Louboutins snapped the other day and I don’t have enough money to fix it, much less buy a new pair.
Kris said none of this out loud. As much as she liked Gemma, she was not in the business of spilling personal details to anyone outside her small, tight circle of trusted friends, which currently consisted of Nate, Courtney, and Kenji, her hairstylist in Seattle. Sometimes she talked to Farrah, Olivia, and Sammy, but they were still relatively new friends compared to her years-long friendship with Courtney and Kenji. And she wasn’t in love with them, which was the only way to bypass the history requirement.
Gemma’s eyes darkened with concern. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping,” she said softly. “But are you having issues at home?”
Kris’s hand stilled. “What makes you think that?”
The older woman hesitated. “I can tell you come from a well-off background, but now you’re working here…I’m sorry, it’s inappropriate of me to even bring it up, but I just want to make sure everything is okay. We all go through tough times, and I want to help.”
Suspicion oozed into Kris’s veins. Why would someone she barely knew want to help her? She and Gemma hadn’t exchanged more than a few words before this week, and while they’d clicked instantly, they weren’t close by any means. Not to mention, Gemma was asking awfully personal questions.
Then again, Gemma seemed like the type of person who’d feed the homeless and adopt stray animals in her free time. If Kris remembered correctly, she’d rescued her cat Smokey after finding it injured and abandoned on the side of the road.
Kris, however, was no stray animal, nor was she a charity case.
She was about to tell Gemma so when the bells above the door jangled. Kris’s gaze skimmed over the newcomer before his identity registered in her brain. When it did, her eyes snapped back to the man and her jaw dropped.
“Daddy?”
Roger looked uncharacteristically rumpled in jeans and a white shirt that needed a good ironing, ASAP. Kris couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father in jeans. There were circles under his eyes, and his skin appeared pale and sallow beneath his tan.
How the hell did he know where she was? Or was this just coincidence? If so, it was a hell of a coincidence.
Gemma and Nate both stiffened.
Nate’s discomfort, Kris understood. But why did Gemma look like she was about to throw up?
“Kris. You’re here.” Relief cooled the tension lining Roger’s face.
“Yeah. Question is, what are you doing here?” Her defensiveness kicked in before she could stop it. She was still smarting from the way her father had dismissed her. Sure, Kris’s scheme to frame Gloria for infidelity had been shady, but she’d beenright.Shouldn’t Roger have at least trusted her enough to investigate her claims instead of immediately assuming she’d lied? Kris was related to him by blood; Gloria had appeared on the scene less than two years ago.
Nate placed a steadying hand on the small of her back, and Kris leaned into his embrace, grateful for the support.
“I need to talk to you. A lot has—” Roger stopped and stared at Gemma, who’d turned her face away and was inching toward the door like she hoped she could escape before anyone realized she was still there. Kris didn’t think it was possible, but her father paled even more. “Gemma?” The name came out as a strangled whisper.
Shock slammed into Kris. Her eyes ping-ponged between her father and the woman she’d befriended over the past few days. Theykneweach other?
Gemma’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “Roger,” she .
“I can’t believe it.” Roger looked stunned. “You—how—”
“You know each other?” Kris was dimly aware that everyone in the cafe had stopped what they were doing to watch the unfolding drama, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “How?”
Gemma stared at her feet, her cheeks crimson and her knuckles white around her to-go coffee cup.
“She’s your—er, she’s your aunt,” Roger said, his face so white he resembled a ghost. “She died twenty-two years ago.”
