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Troy’s Porsche purrs like a kitten. Tires crunch on gravel as he slowly pulls onto the main road and picks up speed, but I need to get something on my mind out of the way before our date can continue. “Listen, I’m sorry if I’ve been cold. It’s been a big adjustment.”
He casts a sidelong glance before snapping his gaze back to the road. “I get it. You spend your whole life a certain way, then tragedy comes out of nowhere and rips the carpet out from under you.”
I nod. Most people either judge me or condemn me, but no one has tried to understand me until now. With one sentence, Troy managed to knock down every wall I’ve built since the moment I arrived. “Everybody dragged my family name through the mud. The scandal was too much for her to take.”
“It was enough to make anyone suffer a major heart attack.”
My gaze drops to my lap. I fiddle with the hem of my skirt as I string together the words without crying. “You don’t leave goodbye notes with a heart attack.”
His head whips in my direction. “Are you saying it was intentional?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying.” I pull in a deep breath and hold it in my lungs until it burns. “Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe the letter was written because she knew she was going to prison for a very long time. All I know is the woman the media painted out as a monster wasn’t the same one I knew. To me, she wasMom. A woman I looked up to, whose strength and perseverance I’ve tried to emulate my entire life. Thinking about it makes me angry, and I don’t want to be angry with her.” My bare finger tingles with regret. I sweep my thumb over it as if my mother’s ring is there, wishing I could still feel it bringing me comfort.
“I can’t say much for your mom other than she raised a strong daughter.”
I tip my head back until it touches the seat. “If I were really that strong, I’d be able to put Jace in his place.”
His lips twist in a scowl. “Jace is … Jace has issues.”
“That’s a polite way of putting it.”
He offers me another quick glance, his expression growing hard. “I’m serious. The guy’s a criminal. We were friends when we were little. As we got older, my dad tried to help him by giving him odd jobs around the house. He’d pull weeds or skim the pool, things like that, and my dad would pay him. One day, I caught him stealing jewelry from my mother’s cabinet.”
My jaw drops. “Are you serious? What happened?”
“He denied it, of course. My parents decided not to charge him with anything because he’d just lost his dad, and they didn’t want to do that to Cindy, but the truth is, he’s just a bad person. He holds a grudge because we have money. He feels like we owe him something.”
My stomach sinks. I’ve seen that character trait in Jace since day one. He hates me, too, for no other reason than my family's success. What he doesn’t see is that I wasn’t born into privilege. My mother was born with the same rusty spoon as him. The factthat she accumulated vast wealth later in life hardly reflects on me, yet he takes it out on me every chance he gets.
“Anyway,” he continues, his tone brightening, “let’s not let him ruin our night.”
“Deal.” I force a smile even though I’m still haunted by this new knowledge of Jace’s past. The guy hascriminalwritten all over him. He literally beats people up for fun. Why am I so surprised? “So where are we going, anyway?”
“Surprise.”
He pulls off the road and parks his car in the back of what looks like an abandoned building. My mouth goes dry. This doesn’t look like a restaurant. It looks like the beginning of a horror movie.
But Troy gets out and opens the door for me. “C’mon,” he urges, offering his hand.
“What is this place?” Moisture beads on my palms, but I take his hand and let him pull me from the low seat of the Porsche and walk me to the unmarked door.
“This is Heartfood Kitchen.” He pushes open the door to bustling energy. People swarm the busy kitchen, carrying huge pots of food and bringing them through a wide set of double doors.
I tear my gaze away from the scene and look up at Troy. “I thought we were going to dinner.”
Dimples deepen his cheeks when he smiles. He takes an apron off a hook near the door and hands it to me. “We aren’t having dinner. We’re serving it.”
He rests his hand on the small of my back and leads me through the kitchen. A line of homeless people snakes past the serving station, pushing trays of home-cooked food. My mouth forms an O of surprise.
A small elderly woman with a low ponytail and round glasses approaches us. “Troy! I’m so glad you could make it. We have a full house.”
She pushes to her toes as he leans down and drops a kiss on her cheek. “Thelma, this is Ellie. She’s going to help serve tonight.”
Thelma takes my hand in both of hers. “Wonderful to meet you, Ellie.”
Still stricken by shock, I only offer a grin and a nod. She goes about her business as Troy begins tying his apron. A split second later, I find my voice. “This is a soup kitchen.”
“Yes. Once a month, I come and donate my services to Thelma and the crew. Sometimes they need me to serve; other times, I clean. Whatever they need that particular day.”
