“Where do you want to go for lunch?” she asks.
“Lumberjack Shack?” I love their food, and the fact Mom is buying makes it extra special.
As it turns out, just because your father is a billionaire doesn’t mean you’re rolling in dough. Dad made it clear that his money is his. Well, his and Mom’s. I have to earn my own way.
That’s not to say that he doesn’t pay for my tuition, housing, and all the required school stuff, but he’s not giving me an allowance if I want to buy stuff. That was cut off at eighteen, and my allowance wasn’t more than a few dollars a week for doing chores.
He wanted me to live a normal life.
Sucks for me.
It’s why I took the internship while going to school. It’s part-time, a few hours a week until the end of summer. The pay is absolute shit, and the commute by bus sucks, but I’m not working someplace greasy, flipping burgers.
“How are you liking your new job?” Mom asks.
I glance at her as she focuses on the road. “It’s good. I mean, filing is boring, but at least I know I’ll be employed forever, at the rate you guys keep leaving stacks of papers on the counter and my desk to get filed.”
Mom laughs. “As you get older, there are other, more enjoyable aspects of the job. But you’re still young. You have plenty of time for that.”
I’m not quite sure what she means. “And there’s always time for filing, right?”
“On to a more serious note, we should talk about what you saw this morning. The file on your biological mother.” Em’s tone is serious, and I roll my lips together, waiting for her to scold me or yell at me for snooping.
“I want you to know the reason I had the background check run.”
I shift in my seat, surprised she’s not screaming at me.
Her tone is much more reserved, calm, composed. Like she’s already practiced this conversation a thousand times in her head.
“It said something about Antonio Moretti.”
Mom nods. “Yes. Do you remember when we first met?” She pulls off the main drag, up the mountain pass, and to the log cabin restaurant. The place had some renovations and has grown over the years, but their food is still dynamite.
Parking the car, we both step out and head inside. We grab a booth and are given menus. It’s not like I need mine, I know exactly what I’m going to order.
Their Brunswick stew is to die for.
Plus, I absolutely love the chips they give me to dip in their stew. It’s the best part.
After we give the waitress our drink and food order, Mom is staring at me, concern etched on her brow. “Do you remember when we first met, Bristol?” she asks me again.
“I was six,” I say, trying to think back to the time that I first laid eyes on her. “Not really. I remember that you were my nanny for a short time before you started dating my dad, then you guys hired Lia to look after me.”
A wry smile crosses Mom’s face. “We didn’t want to tell you, but your father hired me as your bodyguard.”
A huge grin covers my face. “No way.” I mean, I know she’s done that kind of work for other people, but she was my bodyguard?
I’m staring at her, my jaw practically on the floor. “How did I not know?”
“Your dad didn’t want me to tell you. Actually, you came running into the room asking if I was your nanny, and your dad went along with it.”
“So, you guys lied to me?” I raise an eyebrow, tilting my head at Mom. “And why the hell would a six-year-old need a bodyguard? Was the boogeyman chasing me?”
The smile on Mom’s lips slowly begins to vanish. “Your father had concerns about the Italian mafia coming after you.”
“Right. Come on, what was the real reason, Em?”
I know she doesn’t like when I call her that, but I’ve made it clear I’m not calling her Mom at work. And this feels like a very work-esque conversation.