Page 13 of We're Just Friends
She set the food down in front of us, and my mouth instantly watered. There was nothing like small-town meals.
“Nothing in San Diego tastes as good as this burger,” I said, trying to fit as much into my mouth as possible.
Manners were different in River Valley. Yes sir, no sir, and feed the boys. I was perfectly fine with that. As usual, there was little conversation between us as we stuffed our faces. I could remember dinner time in our house growing up, all you could hear was the clinking of the forks against the plates.
When we finished our meals, the waitress came back. "Any dessert?"
We stared at each other for a second and nodded, letting out a howling laugh. "I'll have a brownie sundae if it's still on the menu."
The waitress snickered, her cheeks red as she glanced shyly at me. "Of course it is. They would run us out of here if it wasn’t.”
"I'll have the apple pie and ice cream," Richard replied, eyeing me suspiciously.
I could feel her gaze as she wrote down the order and headed to the kitchen. I tried to ignore my brother's stare, but I knew it was coming.
“She has the hots for you.”
There it was. I shrugged and placed a straw in my new soda. Even though Hillard suggested I have a fling while visiting River Valley, and I could definitely have some fun with her, I just wasn’t feeling it. I was nonchalant about it, of course, hoping to escape my brother's relentless teasing. “Nah, I’m good.”
When she came back with the sundae and apple pie, I tried my best to not look at her. I could hear my brother chuckling across the table. "Coast is clear, or did you want to get completely under the table and hide?"
I glanced up at him and smirked, changing the subject. “How are things with your new house?”
Richard shrugged. “Big and empty, but I’m happy. You have the entire guest house to yourself, by the way. I think you’ll like it.”
“I can’t wait to see the house that Dad pressured you into buying,” I laughed.
Richard just shook his head. He knew our father had swindled him, making him buy the house he liked, but Richard didn't mind. My brother wanted to appease the old man, made life easier on him. I didn't go out of my way to go against our father, but I was a bit less open-minded about just letting him get whatever he wanted.
After we finished our desserts, I started my rental car and followed Richard as we headed to the house. My brother’s home sat high atop the one significant hill in River Valley, and it had our father written all over it. The place was way too big for just one man, but also very masculine — laid out on one vast floor with dark shutters, columns, and all the little excessive details our father liked. You could see the two-story guest house from the road. It was close to three thousand square feet. It backed up to the wood line, behind the pool. To the right, it had its own driveway and a perfectly manicured lawn.
“Here we are,” he said, as I got out of my car. “Casa de Richard. What do you think?”
I walked up the cobblestone path and let out a long whistle. The place was even more impressive in person.
“Could this be any more like Dad?” I laughed, admiring the landscape.
There was plenty of lush greenery, flowers, and even a koi pond with a small waterfall. Richard's garage could hold the entirety of my penthouse inside of it if you took out his collection of vintage cars.
“Dad knew I’d like it when the realtor showed it to him,” Richard said, grabbing some of my bags.
“It’s definitely his style. Is that a golf course over there?” I pointed across the road.
Richard nodded. “Yep. It’s private, though. I haven’t gotten a membership yet. Maybe you and I should check it out tomorrow. What do you think?"
I squinted my eyes and shrugged my shoulders. “Sounds good to me, so long as you plan on going back after I leave. I don’t want you to waste your money on a membership you’ll never use.”
It wasn't like he had to worry about money. Our overbearing father instilled in us the value of hard work and saving as much as we could.
“I think you’re just worried that I’ll beat you,” he said, walking with me to the guest house.
Just like his mansion, the guest house also had floor-to-ceiling windows. I loved the winding concrete steps that were dotted with green plants. It gave the place character without being too feminine, which I knew was important to my brother. I was fine with a decorator going all out, and while the plants looked good here, they would be dead in two weeks at my place. My green thumb, if I ever had one, had turned brown.
“Pfft,” I scoffed as he opened the front door.
It had an open concept, with three large, white sofas in the middle of the living room. In front of them was a glass table with onyx marble legs. Several magazines were spread out on top like the tables in a doctor's office waiting room. I half expected to see an AARP advertisement and a Fitness Over 40 magazine.
Straight ahead was the kitchen, and on each side of the archway were staircases that led up to a balcony overlooking the living room.
