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“Sweetie, that’s why you have a wedding planner.” Joanna rose to exchange air kisses with the woman. “You should be relaxing on the eve of your wedding. Come and meet Grant’s girlfriend.”
“Grant has a girlfriend?” Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline.
“Not only that, he brought her along.” Joanna waved her hand as if she were a showcase model displaying Rory, the brand-new car. “This is Rory Prescott. Rory, this is our lovely bride Alice, and Grant’s younger brother Nathan.”
Rory greeted them both, and Grant rose to embrace his brother. Nathan shot Rory a curious smile.
“Funny that you didn’t mention her,” he remarked, slapping Grant on the back.
“He likes to keep me to himself.” Rory winced at the suggestive tone to her voice, but she had little doubt that Nathan suspected she was a decoy. “Thanks for accommodating a plus one. I’m looking forward to the ceremony.”
“Not as much as we are.” Alice smiled at her fiancé, who responded with a look of such besotted devotion that even Rory’s steel-clad heart softened a little.
She enjoyed the rest of the dinner more than she’d expected to. Talking with Edward, and Intellix VP Nathan, was both enlightening and interesting, and Joanna was a master hostess who kept the conversation pinging back and forth about everything from the best hotels in Monte Carlo to the ERA of the San Francisco Giants.
Though Rory had to sit through Alice’s tales of wedding-planning woe (The photographer had initially double-booked! A storm impacted the Alaskan fishing industry and they weren’t able to guarantee enough lobster for the guests, so they were serving King crab legs instead! One of the bridesmaids gained so much weight that they had to let out her dress!), once Alice had garnered enough sympathy, she started telling Rory about her job at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art—which was far more interesting than lobster and bridesmaids.
“Grant, you still slinging burgers?” Edward’s voice boomed across the table, silencing all other conversations.
Joanna’s expression grew pinched, as if she were watching storm clouds gather on the horizon.
“Still am, Dad.” Grant faced his father, his mouth tightening. “You need me to take a look at the Intellix cafeteria menu? See if we can elevate the packaged sandwiches to something edible?”
Oh, slam.
“No, thanks.” Edward gave a thin smile. “My team is happy with what we offer. They’re busy with real work, after all.”
“Edward.” Joanna’s voice held an unmistakable warning.
“Grant did an amazing job revamping the Mousehole Tavern,” Rory remarked casually. “It was written up inFood & Winemagazine as one of the best rustic restaurants on the West Coast.”
“It sounds delightful,” Joanna said.
“TheMousehole Tavern.” Edward said the name as if it tasted unpleasant in his mouth. He took a swallow of scotch and set his napkin down. “It might interest you to know, Rory, that I raised both of my boys the same.”
“Weraised them, Edward,” Joanna put in tartly. “And no one wants to hear your complaining right now.”
“I’m just stating the facts. It would be an interesting scientific study. Maybe one involving mice.” He guffawed and took another drink. “Two mice…or boys…raised the same way. Had all the same privileges. Attended excellent private schools. Never wanted for a thing. Vacations in Europe. All the best technology, of course. One of the boys goes on to graduate from Stanford with a degree in computer science, makes no noise about starting at the bottom of his father’s company, and works his way up to a well-deserved VP position. The other boy works as a kitchen dishwasher and busses tables. As a career goal, he wants to learn how to cook a steak and scramble eggs.”
So what’s wrong with that?Rory barely managed to bite back the remark.
If Edward Taylor belittled his son’s career choice, no wonder Grant had distanced himself from his family. Rory knew all too well what it felt like to be treated asless—though thankfully never by her family. That had to hurt like hell.
“Yet you’re all about fine dining, aren’t you, Dad?” An undercurrent of bitterness threaded Grant’s question. “You love to eat, so it’s not as if you have anything against chefs as a rule. But the fact thatyour sonwanted to work in a kitchen has always had you in a rage.”
“Grant, your father’s point is that you had a great deal of privilege that was intended to set you on the right path,” Joanna said quietly.
“Mom, cooking obviouslyisthe right path for Grant,” Nathan put in. “Neither one of us was born with source coding in our DNA.”
“I’m pretty sure I was.” Rory polished off the last bite of salmon, eyeing Edward narrowly. “And don’t you think a developer who’s not totally committed to his or her work and who doesn’t love what they do is far worse than no developer at all?”
His mouth compressed. “You don’t have to be born with a talent to learn how to do something well.”
“But life is about doing what you love, isn’t it?” piped up Aunt Lucy. “Shall we have dessert?”
Conversation rose again, and Rory leaned closer to Edward. “I know it’s none of my business, but he really is an excellent chef.”
“You’re right.” Edward’s jaw tightened. “It’s none of your business. But do you see that woman?”
