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Bree instantly shakes her head in a hostile gesture.
“We’re not going there.”
I need to blink a couple of times to process her severe tone.
“Excuse me?”
“We’re not going,” she repeats firmly. “First, it’s an expensive place. Ridiculously expensive.” Raising a finger, Bree starts to enumerate the reasons.
“I don’t mind spending money on you,” I fight back.
“That’s not the point, Stan.” Pursing her lips together, Bree inhales. “It’s too expensive and unnecessary. I don’t care about money or luxuries. You could take me to a fast-food, and I’d still consider it a great date because I’m going outwithyou.”
I swallow, trying to get rid of the tension that’s asphyxiating me. This is not the reaction that I thought I would get from her. The last thing that I wanted was for us to end up arguing before we even have the date.
Talk about screwing up.
“What’s the second point?” I ask in a low voice. “You started enumerating your arguments. What’s the next one?”
Bree’s eyes move to her window, focusing on the crystal instead of looking at me.
“My family owns the place,” she whispers so quietly that I can barely make out the words.
“What?”
“Don’t make me repeat it, please,” Bree pleads.
I’m confused and caught by surprise. I’ve never been this confused in my whole existence, especially when it comes to something like this. How come we’ve been friends for months, and I didn’t know this? The realization hits me like a cold wave crashing against me:for the same reason that I hadn’t told her about my economic situation.
The way she’s avoiding my gaze tells me that she’s embarrassed by this fact. Why is she ashamed of her family business? It’s a restaurant in the center of town.
“If your family owns it, are you rich?” That’s the only thing that I can come up with that doesn’t sound harsh.
A skeptical laugh emerges from her lips, turning to face me.
“Are you serious?”
I shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal, which shouldn’t be. Her family doesn’t define her. She’s still Bree, no matter what her back account looks like.
“What? I may have found my future sugar mommy without knowing it.” Her laughter only grows louder, and slaps my arm. “You don’t act like you have money.”
As soon as I say it, her smile fades and morphs into a disgruntled face.
“Because I don’t,” Bree answers, wrinkling her nose. “My family has money. This whole euphoria over the restaurant is pretty new. When it was under my grandparent’s management, it was a very different place. Familiar, happy, and accessible for people to come and go as they pleased. There weren’t any reservations.”
Bree sounds unhappy when she talks about it, sad as she seems to get lost in the memories of what it used to be.
“What happened then?” I dare to ask.
“My uncle happened,” she replies with a scowl. “When he took over the administrative side, he brought along a board of people that wanted to turn it into a place for rich snobs. They changed the name, and it lost the essence that it had when I was a kid and watched my grandma cook.”
It has to be sad to watch something that you loved to disappear and transform into something you no longer recognize. I’m unfamiliar with that feeling. Everything in my life has always been constant. But I can sense her discomfort with it, the sadness that’s hidden, the anger towards someone that shares her blood, and still destroyed a safe place for her.
“What about your mom? She was a chef, right?”
Bree nods.
“She’stheexecutive chef of Red Veil, but she went through hell to keep her job. The board wanted to fire her because she was a woman. She was more than qualified for the position. She went to culinary school, won competitions, and cooked for the best of the best. My uncle simply didn’t like that my mom managed to have a job and a degree while raising a toddler, and my dad was in the process of going to law school.” There’s a trace of fury on her words marking every sentence. “But the board still wanted someone else when the transition began.”
