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“Turning your pain into success.”
“I guess so.” Her smile is sad. “I wish I could tell Mom that. ‘Look, I’m doing a Fleetwood Mac. I’m taking my heartbreak and spinning it into gold.’ You don’t spin gold. Silk. Something. I don’t know.” She looks out the window, watching the world outside.
“You miss her?”
“Every day. People think money buys happiness. And money is great. You know that. You didn’t always have this life. Before you moved in with Ida…”
I nod. I grew up with a very different life. Even though we were only fifty miles away, we were on another planet. One with small apartments and overdue bills and store-brand mac n’ cheese for dinner.
“I know your grandma isn’t rich the way my dad is rich. She bought the house a long time ago, before it was worth millions. And it’s one lot. Not three.” She laughs. “Did Dad ever tell you that? How the city was willing to build a property over two lots, but not three?”
“When would he tell me that?”
She nods as if to sayright. “He’s used to getting what he wants. And he was that way with Mom, but he was different, too. He wanted what she wanted. And she wanted what he wanted.”
“They never clashed?”
“They clashed, sure, but they never let it get to them. Or maybe I was too young to see it. Maybe they hid it well. I don’t know.” She breaks off another square of chocolate. “What the hell was I just saying?”
“Your dad didn’t hand you the keys to the kingdom.”
“Right. Yeah. He didn’t offer us a job at his business.”
I didn’t know that. “Isn’t that what old money families do?”
“We’re only old money by West Coast standards.”
She really believes that she didn’t inherit the world.
“You think I’m a spoiled rich girl,” she says.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, I am spoiled. I complain about my sixty-thousand-dollar car all the time. I send Lexi texts when I buy something that breaks too soon. I try to buy from other start-ups, women-owned start-ups, whether they price high or low. Some have great products. Some don’t.”
“Saving the world through wardrobe upgrades.”
“Women do more than make clothes,” she says.
“Sorry. Am I a sexist asshole?”
“A little.” She lets out a soft laugh. “Beauty and clothing are big markets. And it’s easier for women to succeed there. They’re not taken seriously, but investors don’t take the categories seriously either, so.” She shrugs.
“You don’t get an advantage as DeannaHuntington?”
She pauses, then says, “I’m sure I do. But it’s not like in the movies. Dad didn’t ask me to take over the company. He made it clear I was not welcome to take over the company. I’m sure he would have found a spot, if I really needed one, and he did introduce me to a lot of people. I’m sure some of them helped because of my last name. But a lot of them ignored me because of my gender, too.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
“Because you’re not a woman,” she says.
“I can’t imagine anyone not seeing the sheer strength of your will,” I clarify.
Her cheeks flush. “Apparently, it’s easy to miss.”
That’s not possible. She radiates strength, power, grace.
“When I was younger, people assumed I was another trust fund baby. They thought I was killing time until I inherited a fortune.”
