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“It was my ticket to a more challenging education and my excuse to stop helping my cousin with her homework. Dad was so proud of me for cutting her loose. Mom always treaded carefully with her youngest sister. Mariah’s grades slid, and she hated me even more. I held my ground. Aunt Moira preferred to focus on fostering her daughters’ outer-self. Finding a man to support you is a heck of a lot easier than studying or working a job, hence why a woman should really put emphasis on her assets and not her intellect. Because men can’t see a brain at first glance… breasts on the other hand, jump out at you. And huge breasts are the way to a man’s heart, aka wallet.”
“I won’t deny we’re wired like that—we’re visual—but I’d be willing to bet my entire fortune when I say the vast majority of men want the perfect combination of brains and beauty!” I wink at her.
She blushes. “Aunt Moira would vehemently argue your point. She’s a piece of work and her daughters—”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she says. “As the years rolled by, it became clear my scholastic abilities were different from other kids at Maccabeus. One of my math teachers noticed. With his help and guidance, I was able to secure a scholarship.”
“He believed in you,” I say.
“He did. Without him, I doubt I would’ve ever made my way to New York. My grades at Maccabeus Learning and the school’s stellar reputation allowed me to get a full scholarship for my bachelor degree and get the hell out of Philadelphia—”
“And away from the Golightly witches.”
“Free at last… so I thought…” Her words trail. “When my proud mother started to tell anyone willing to listen how her daughter was a lot more intelligent than most, the Golightly witches turned up the bitch factor. They became mean bullies. The months preceding my departure to college were atrocious. Mom cut ties with her sister. She didn’t ostracize Aunt Moira after the twins’ death—I still don’t know how she managed to do that—but Mom wasn’t going to standby as the Golightlys destroyed me.”
I would never have guessed all this about her.
“Your mom sounds like a strong woman,” I say.
“She’s been through a lot, but she’s still standing. The same for Dad. Just like your parents, mine have also had their ups and downs.”
“But they’re still together.”
“As Mom loves to say in her still pronounced Scottish accent, they still love each other hard.”
I laugh.
“Going back to your cousins and your aunt, it sounds like they’re jealous of you.”
She shoots me a side gaze.
“What?” I ask.
“Dad has been saying that for years. I didn’t believe him at first, but now I know he was right all along. Especially, Mariah. She’s an envious cow, willing to steamroll you for the sake of one-upping you.”
“Remember what I said yesterday about sluts?” I ask. “They don’t have much going on for them. You’ve achieved impressive milestones. Clearly, they weren’t rooting for you.”
“They weren’t. I’m the first person in our family to ever go to college and I’m the first to hold a master’s degree. No one even knew what a CFA was until I acquired the professional credential. The Golightly witches made me feel like an outcast and an ugly duckling my whole life. Then, one day, I grew out of my awkward teenage years with two university degrees and a coveted accreditation in hand at the tender age of twenty-three. After that, I landed a ridiculously high-paying job in Silicon Valley. In other words, I left them in the dust. They hated me even more.”
“All those milestones made you untouchable,” I say.
Her face contorts in disgust.
“What’s that expression about?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
I don’t believe her, but I don’t push.
“What kind of restaurants do your parents own?” I ask, changing the subject.
She looks around the room. “Nothing like this fancy eatery. Scots are renowned for their love of fried food. My parents own two chicken nugget restaurants.”
“Just chicken nuggets?” I ask.
“Chicken nuggets are the main attraction at Wee Nugget,” she says. “We also serve sweet potato fries, onion rings, fried pickles, French fries, and homemade coleslaw. It’s not haute cuisine. The menu is simple. Dad concocts eight tasty seasonal dipping sauces that keep the crowds coming back. On weekends, the desserts outsell the chicken wings.”
