Page 53 of Eleven of a Kind

Roy walked over, set our drinks down, and took our order.

“I attended UCLA, where I graduated with an MBA and opened up Primrose.”

“It’s a great store. What made you want to open your own boutique?”

“Funny you should ask that.” A smirk crossed her lips. “I was a misguided teenager. I hung out with the wrong crowd and got into a lot of trouble. Primrose was formally known as Mademoiselle and was owned by a woman named Margaret Krosswood. When I was fifteen, I shoplifted from her store.”

I arched my brow at her.

“Don’t give me that look.” She laughed. “Anyway, Margaret caught me, gave me a stern lecture, and told me that if I wanted the items I stole, I would have to work for them. And if I refused, she would call the police and press charges. Believe me when I tell you that I took a lot more than a shirt and a dress.”

“Is that why you did that for Riley?” I brought my drink to my lips.

“Yeah. After she told me that her mother passed away a few months ago, I knew she was hurting. I could see it in her eyes. Margaret Krosswood saved me. I don’t know where I’d be today if it weren't for her. She took me under her wing, taught me about the clothing business, and set me on the path to doing better in school and going to college.”

“What about your parents?”

“My father left us when I was ten. My mother was devastated and turned to alcohol for comfort.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, Gabriel, but everything worked out for me. After I graduated college, Margaret wanted to retire, so I bought the business from her, and Primrose was born.” A beautiful smile crossed her lips.

“It’s a nice store and must do well,” I said.

“It does very well. I’ve been very lucky.”

Roy walked over and set our food in front of us.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Another scotch, please,” I said.

“I’ll have another cosmopolitan.” Piper smiled. “Your turn, Dr. Kind. What’s your complicated story?”

“Complicated story?”

“Yeah. Last night you said it was complicated when I thought Aunt Barb was your mother.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, Grayson and I were raised in Hawaii by my father. My mother passed away from a drug overdose when we were babies.”

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Gabriel.”

“I appreciate it. After high school, Grayson and I attended Harvard.”

“You’re a Harvard man?” Her brow arched.

“I am.” I breathed out a laugh. “We both did our residencies at Massachusetts General and when Grayson finished his trauma fellowship, we moved here to be closer to our family. A family we didn’t know we had.”

“What do you mean?” Her brows furrowed.

I told her the story of my father, his family, and how he lied to us our entire lives.

“Wow. Now that’s dysfunctional.” She smirked.

“Totally dysfunctional, but it all turned out for the best.” I smiled.

“Yeah. Your family is really nice.” She took a sip of her drink. “You all seem really close.”

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