Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s surprising, seeing as you’re the only one who encouraged Kamryn to go to those food schools.”
Charles laughed and took a sip of his drink. “No offense to your home and wife, Bruce, but I want a wife who knows her place in my home as well as by my side.”
Chuck and Dad both snickered. I continued to stand there with my jaw on the floor.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Charles went on. “Charlotte’s great for business and public outings, but that woman couldn’t cook if her life depended on—”
Dad cut him off. “Which, of course, means Kamryn couldn’t cook before she went to those schools.”
Charles clucked his tongue and pointed his hand—the one holding his scotch glass—at Dad. “Precisely.”
“Smart kid you’ve got there, Chuck.” Dad laughed into his glass before taking another sip. “Damn smart kid.”
“So you aren’t letting her open up the bakery? Your mother and I have been worried about your judgment in letting her do this.”
“Hell no.” Charles laughed, shooting his dad a look like he was crazy. “There’s a reason I haven’t let her open one yet—I’m just trying to keep her happy until we’re married.”
“And you’ll be proposing tonight?”
My eyes about popped out of my head at my dad’s question.
“Yup, gonna push for that whole ‘we’ve been together forever, there’s no point in having a long engagement’ thing. My guess, end of the year, we’ll be married and we can stop dicking around with this merger.”
“Sounds good,” Dad said, and the men stood up to shake hands across the table.
I made sure to keep quiet as I quickly backed away from the door and took off for my room. Get married to him? Oh, hell no. I might have stayed with him to keep Mom and Dad happy and off my back for the last six years, but no way in hell was I going into a lifelong commitment with him. And I couldn’t believe he would encourage me to go to the cooking schools just so he’d have a wife from the f**king fifties!
“Cook for you?” I hissed as I shut my bedroom door and hurried to the closet. “I’ll cook for you.” Grabbing a small suitcase, I threw it onto the bed and opened it up. “With rat poison.”
I buzzed Barbara before grabbing only a few of my favorite clothes and shoes and tossing everything in there. I was throwing the necessities from my bathroom in a small bag when I heard Barb’s voice in my room.
“What can I do for ya, baby girl . . . Kam, honey?”
“Barb!” I apparently still hadn’t graduated from hissing. “He’s proposing!”
Her eyes were wide as she looked at the too-full suitcase. “I thought we were already expecting that?”
“Tonight! And he just told Dad that we would be married by the end of the year. That’s barely four months away!”
“Oh, my sweet girl.” She smiled sadly and sat on my bed. “I knew this day was coming, but I’m not ready for it yet.”
“Me neither, but, Barbara, I can’t—I can’t keep doing this. Six years with him, and twenty-two years of not being able to live. I have to go.”
“I know.”
“It was one thing to continue dating him while he was away at school and I was trying to save money for this, but it’s an entirely different thing to be engaged to him. And you know Mom and Dad won’t let me say no!”
“I know,” she said again, and there were tears falling down her plump cheeks.
“Barb, don’t cry, please don’t cry!” God, now I was going to start crying. Barbara had been my parents’ maid since before I was born, she’d taken care of me growing up, and she was the reason I’d wanted to go to culinary school. She was the reason all of this was about to be possible, and she was the only reason I’d followed my parents’ path as long as I had. She had also been what my mom used against me to keep me with Charles.
I’d been telling Barb about a date with him I’d just come back from and how torturous it had been, and when I’d gone to my room a few minutes later Mom was in there waiting for me. After reminding me of how much my relationship with Charles meant to both our families, she’d asked, “You don’t want to see anything happen to Barbara, now, do you?” The threat had been clear. And it had been enough to keep my mouth shut and keep me with Charles over the next few years as Barb and I began preparing for this night.
Dad refused to pay for the schools, not like I expected him to or would have allowed it. I’d gotten loans and simultaneously started asking Barb for her help. There was no way for Barb or me to bet on the races without word getting out that we were doing so, and Dad would have flipped if he’d known. I didn’t want to use his money for anything, so I’d sold a few things Mom would never notice were missing from my room and used that money for Barb’s brother to start placing bets for me. All the bets started off small, since I hadn’t sold anything of much value, and over the last four years they’d multiplied like you wouldn’t believe.
I’d paid off the loans first before replacing what I’d originally sold from my room, and then continued to place higher and higher bets. The last race I’d bet on—and won—I’d put down close to six figures. You get the right races, and the right pockets with horses competing, you can make a fortune. And that’s just what I’d been doing.