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I flip my head in his direction, question marks all over my expression. Ben gives me a weary look, and Frenchie lowers her head and mutters anohmygod.
“What did you say about my dad?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
Ben shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Go ahead. Tell her.” Ben’s nephew tosses his hand to the side, as if this whole conversation is no big deal.
“Yeah. Tell me.”
The legs of Ben’s chair grind loudly along the floor as he rises from the table. In seconds, his hands are on Danny’s shoulders, knuckles turning white. He leans down and growls in his ear. “Outside.Now.”
I expect his nephew to tell Ben to fuck off, but surprisingly he gets up from the table. Yeah, it’s with attitude but he still does it. The two of them disappear and I’m left there with Frenchie, wondering what the hell Ben could possibly say about my daddy.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” she groans, rubbing her temples. “He’s such a little asshole sometimes.”
“Who? Ben or Danny?”
Frenchie rolls into soft laughter, finishes off her second beer. “Both, I reckon. But tonight, my son more so than my brother.”
I wave her off. “Don’t worry about it. I might turn into an asshole myself when I find out what Ben said about my dad.”
Frenchie averts her gaze.
“Do you know what he said?”
“Nope.” She huffs out a breath, holds her bottle up and swirls it as if that will make more beer magically appear. “But, knowing Ben the way I do, he probably made a snarky comment about the way he was dressed when they met. Or something about how much money he has. I don’t know. Just a guess.”
“So he told you he met my dad?”
“He mentioned it in passing.” She bites her lip a few times. “Look. I love my son but I really wouldn’t put too much stock in anything he says. Danny likes to stir shit up, make trouble. I have him in counseling but I don’t think it’s doing much good.”
“It takes time, these things. My mom died eleven years ago and it … it’s the kind of dark event that just clings to you. Stains your soul. Changes the way you look at everything. For a long time. Forever, probably.”
“Yeah. Tell me about it.” Frenchie’s voice cracks and when I look at her, she has this vacant stare in the distance.
“Well, I don’t have to tell you all this. You know better than anyone. You and Ben. And Danny.”
“Andyou,” Frenchie sighs. “Ben told me about what happened to your mom. It’s so crazy, how we all have that one thread in common. Such a small world.”
It sounds like Ben may have skipped telling her about the first time we met, which I appreciate. I don’t know what she’d think of me if she knew I was posing as a potential investor to get close to her brother.
Ben and Danny are back a few minutes later and while it does seem like most of the awkwardness is gone, I’m still wanting answers.
“Sorry,” Danny mumbles after sitting back down. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No problem. And for what it’s worth I’m happy to answer your question.”
His eyes meet mine. He looks briefly at Ben, then back to me. “Okay?”
“My grandfather was the OG designer in the family. He and my grandma lived in a piss poor town in the southern part of Sweden. When he was asked to help lead a funeral for a community member he needed a suit but couldn’t afford one. So, he found an old suit that had belonged to his dad before he died. My grandma showed him how to sew, helped him make adjustments to it so it would fit. He got so many compliments on it that he started a tailoring business which led to him to designing suits for men. He came over here, to New York in the 60’s, found someone at Parson’s School of Design to mentor him, and from that he launched Nilssen Designs. Right before the 70’s he was making enough to move my grandma out here, and within a year, she was pregnant with my dad. He took over the business, about thirty years ago when Grandpa died. And yeah,” I say, swiveling my gaze to Ben. “He’s hella disciplined and makes a shit ton of money. So much that neither of us have to want for a thing and never will. And he’s probably the most loving man I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for him. If you ever get a chance to meet him you’ll see just how awesome he is.”
Danny lifts his brows and nods. “Sounds cool.”
“He is. Really cool.”
Under the table, Ben takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. But I pull away. I don’t want to be the kind of person who holds a grudge about something on which I don’t have all the details but I can’t help but feel a little annoyed.
He shifts awkwardly in his seat. “Did anyone save room for dessert?”
