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Chapter Eight
The dreaded dinner
“I have to say, Jackson Reed, I was shocked at your suggestion. It has been so long since we had a family get-together,” her mother, Sophie said.
Rebecca stared at her mother, and saw that she was actually flirting with him. Sophie’s hand was on his knee, and she was leaning in quite close.
“He’s been really busy,” Bella said. “It was my idea, actually. I knew I remembered how much fun we had last time.”
“We certainly did,” her father, Robert, said.
She was at her parents’ place for Easter, and it was as terrible as she imagined.
“Rebecca, dear, did you know that Ethan is going to be the helm soon? He’ll own an entire fleet, and entire market,” Sophie said.
Ethan was the son that was there.
Rebecca smiled at him. He seemed nice. He’d been sweet, and kissed her hand. He’d done the whole gentleman thing. His father and mother were … different. His mother had her tits hanging out, and looked to be the same age as Ethan. So, probably she was his step-mother.
“He’s getting there. I’m training him,” Ethan’s father said.
She had missed his name. “I’m going to go and see what is taking dinner so long.”
Leaving the sitting room, she made her way into the kitchen to see Nancy, the cook. “Are you okay, Becca, love?” Nancy asked.
“I’m fine, I think. Can we poison my parents’ drinks without them knowing?” she asked, taking a seat at the counter.
Nancy laughed. “You wouldn’t even hurt a soul, and you’re talking about murder.”
“Mom won’t stop flirting with Jackson, and Dad is constantly staring at the stepmom in there.”
“Ah, the surgically enhanced one. Yes, she was in here an hour ago giving me a list of everything she couldn’t eat. She’s all skin and bone. From the looks of this, she hasn’t had a good meal in months.”
Rebecca laughed. She adored Nancy.
“How are things going in that fancy restaurant?”
“It’s going.”
Nancy sighed, and placed a hand on her hip. Rebecca watched her with a smile, realizing she copied a few of her mannerisms. Leaning on the counter with a hand on her hip. When she was waiting for something to come out of the oven, she folded her arms. This woman had been the real mother in her life. She cared about her so much.
“You hate it, don’t you?”
“It’s fine, Nancy.”
“I’ve been sent to come and get you,” Ethan said, making her turn toward him.
“Right.” She looked at Nancy, who handed her a drink of fresh orange juice.
“Dinner will be ready shortly.”
Nodding, she took her drink, and followed Ethan out of the kitchen.
“I heard you were a chef.”
“I am.” She took a sip of her juice. “Do you enjoy your business with boats?”
“It’s a little more than just boats.”
