Page 102 of Tripped By Love
When I walked into the back, Cliff and Willow were laughing and joking, knives slamming into the surface as they cut and diced—a dance only chefs understood.
They both smiled and greeted me with a warm hello.
I turned on the radio, washed my hands, and joined them, picking up a peeler and a stack of carrots. “Everyone was raving about the food last night. Thank you for doing it,” I said.
Willow beamed, and I almost thought Cliff blushed.
“Thanks for trusting us to do it,” Willow said.
My throat constricted as emotion flooded me. I hadn’t trusted many people enough to let them help, determined to prove I wasn’t weak. I felt like the final burden was lifted off my shoulders, enhancing the peace I’d felt on the street.
We worked in silence that was only broken by the occasional smart-aleck remark from Willow followed by a gruff laugh from Cliff. After the new waitstaff and line cook showed up, I left them to run the restaurant and went to dig out my menus from last fall. I’d keep some favorites and add some new dishes.
The new waitress we’d hired, another Wilson-Jacobs student who Willow knew, popped her head into the kitchen. Ashley smiled when her eyes landed on me at the table in the corner.
“Hey, Cassidy, there’s a woman here asking for you.”
Willow wiped her hands on a towel. “I got it.”
Ashley shook her head. “No, she didn’t want to talk to the chef or the manager. She specifically asked for Cassidy.”
Willow and I exchanged a look, and I gave a small shrug before following Ashley into the main restaurant. Ashley pointed to a table near the door where a woman in a white dress with red polka dots sat. Everything about her screamed wealth. From the way her brown hair was perfectly styled, to the expensive watch on her wrist, down to the Hermès bag hanging off her chair and the Louboutin shoes on her feet. She wasn’t someone I knew, and I had no idea why she wanted to speak with me.
I made my way over to her, and she looked up when I reached her side. “Hi, I’m Cassidy. How can I help you?”
She eyed me up and down, a sense of power and privilege wafting off her as she did it. Her gaze traveled over my hair up in two tight buns, the T-shirt with the café’s logo, my long skirt, and my sturdy shoes before coming back up to my face. She didn’t frown in disapproval, but there wasn’t admiration in her eyes either. In fact, there was a wariness to her expression that surprised me, as if I would somehow be the one to judge her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. O’Neil. My name is Vanessa Van Der Hellig-Hardy,” she said with a clip to her tone that was almost aristocratic. She offered her hand, but I refused it as her last name settled down around me and realization hit me. She was Clayton’s wife.
She withdrew her hand, lips pursing slightly.
“I’m sorry. I don’t blame you for not shaking it,” she said. “Please, have a seat so we can talk.”
She waved across the table, offering me a chair in my own restaurant. I tried not to let it irk me. I couldn’t afford to lose my temper with her any more than I could afford to lose it with Clayton.
“I prefer to stand,” I told her.
Her gaze met mine, and she sighed. “I see Clayton has done what he is so good at doing, which is riling everyone up around him. I’m sorry. It’s awkward to talk with you hovering. Please sit.”
I didn’t want to agree. I wanted her to leave my restaurant, the town, and my life, but her apology wormed its way into me a little. I couldn’t imagine being married to Clayton. I could barely stomach the thought that I’d let him touch me…more than once. That I’d let myself believe I wanted what he offered me, seeking self-confidence from someone else’s approval. But he’d made me feel worse.
I sat down, and she smiled. It was a pretty smile, softening the rigidness of her appearance, but there was a falseness to it that was easy to read.
“I quite admire you, Ms. O’Neil.” This caught me off-guard, and she read my surprise with a soft laugh, explaining. “You haven’t done one thing that Clayton wanted you to. You kept the baby, raised it on your own, and then refused to let him near it even when I’m sure he tried to be smooth and suave when he first approached you. Not many people seem to be able to say no to him. I certainly didn’t.”
My eyes widened at her admission, but I still didn’t say anything. I had nothing to say to her. She could have been the nicest person in the world, and I still wouldn’t let her spend time with my son. He wasn’t going to be anywhere near her or Clayton.
She glanced around the restaurant and then back to the coffee cup in her hand. “When Clayton first spoke of you, he said… Well, he said some not very kind things. But then I look around, and I can see that this took effort and determination—especially while raising a baby. You’ve had help?”
I debated what to say. What would my lawyer tell me to do? Not share anything? But it was already well known that Brady had funded the restaurant and that my family watched Chevelle for me. I did have help. I was grateful for it. I was at peace with it now, wasn’t I? There was no reason to hide it.
“Yes. I’m really lucky to have a family who supports Chevelle and me in any way they can.”
She watched me as if she could read all the things I wasn’t telling her. “Family is very important,” she said softly. “I’m afraid mine will be ending with me.”
The sadness in her eyes was real, and while it increased my compassion for her, it wasn’t like feeling bad for someone who didn’t have a puppy. I wasn’t handing her my son just so she could play fetch in the park.
“What will it take, Ms. O’Neil?” she asked, and I frowned, not quite following her. She clarified. “Name your price.”
