Page 87 of Working for the Mob

“Just tell us the damn specials, Glo!”

Sadly, the chef could not guarantee that the cows were grass fed. Two pork chops, a meatloaf, and an explanation of our jobs in Lannington later found my dad and I in a timid conversation while Lucy talked with the chef in the kitchen.

“… And the two of you run the café all by yourselves?” my dad asked, for the third time tonight.

“Only until Jamie comes back.” Third time’s a charm. ”Enough about me. Dad, what can I do to get you to leave us alone?”

An uneasy look spread across my dad’s face. “Listen, Genevieve. All that stuff you said at the matchmaker’s, that’s water under the bridge, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, your mom and I have forgiven you,” he said.

“Forgiven me? What do I need to be forgiven for? That hussy promised to ensure I become a fuddy-duddy because I want to do more with my education than cook and clean?”

“Genny-bug,” His pet name for me growing up. “It is your duty–-as awife––to care for your family. You––”

“Then maybe I don’t want to be a wife. Can you not accept that? It means more to me to make a positive impact on––”

“Do you really think your mother doesn’t make a positive impact? Do you not appreciate everything she did for you?” I pointed at the kitchen to where Lucy chatted with the chef. “Both of you.”

He stared at me long enough to make it obvious that he wasn’t going to continue until I said:

“I appreciate Mom.”

“Good. That’s settled then,” he said, as Lucy walked back from the kitchen.

“What’s settled?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, and crossed my arms. I think I just walked into something.

My dad sat back in his chair with a triumphant look on his face. “Genevieve, your mother and I have worked very hard to not only patch things over with Madame Rousseau, but to patch your reputation in our community. And we––”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“––have set you up with a very generous opportunity to be married to James Hutchins.”

“What?”

“Is James the one who used to adjust himself all the time?” Lucy asked.

“Absolutely not,” I said, straight to my dad. Old Genevieve might’ve taken this offer and been appreciative of her parents' efforts. But not Manager Genevieve.

“He dug into there like he was mining for gold,” Lucy said.

“Genny-bug, be reasonable. He’s a very successful dentist. Your mother and I are lucky to have even broached the subject with his parents,” he said, completely oblivious to how condescending he sounded. “We play tennis with his parents. They’re both very nice people.”

“Then why don’tyoumarry them?”

“Now Genevieve …” He sounded both obliviousandpatronizing.

“No. I’m not marrying James Hutchins because you and Mom have nothing better to do in your free time than think of ways to imprison me.”

“You are acting childish,” he said, affronted. “We worked very hard in order to put this arrangement together––”

“Without including me.”

“––and you are coming home tonight.”

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