Grace must have found what she was looking for because she admitted, “My former circle dropped me. My mother is a socialite on the Upper East Side, and I was raised to be just like her. Someone who attends parties, represents brands, gets photographed at the right times, and basically lives under a magnifying glass for all to judge. I’ve had to … distance myself from that world.” She sucked her teeth, appearing to search for the right words. Her gaze was faraway again. “While I distanced myself, I became an outcast from high society.” She laughed but there was no humor to it.
“All the brands I worked with dropped me. All my ‘friends’ don’t want to be seen with me in public. My own mother wants me to do a press tour issuing apologies and ‘take responsibility’ for my role in events that transpired and basically beg for my reinstatement back into that world. The very same people whotreated me like a pariah were the ones with the biggest secrets.” Grace waved her hands dramatically.
“Secrets you’re still keeping,” I pointed out, trying to piece together what she wasn’t telling me.
I sat there, actively staying neutral and impartial. Even though I hated that these high society people hurt her. Put that expression of hurt and pain on her face. Made her keep secrets that clearly tortured her.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a lot,” Grace breathed out. “And moving has been a lot,” she muttered, staring at parked cars in the lot.
“I can’t imagine you did something so bad to be shunned like that. What could you have done that was so unforgivable?” I shook my head in disbelief.
“You’d be surprised.”
“Promise me something?”
She nodded once but didn’t speak.
“When the time comes and you want to tell someone your story, just know I’m here,” I offered.
Grace appeared taken aback and her eyebrows rose, but her overall expression was neutral. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she croaked out, “Okay.”
“Well, you’re not in jail, so that’s a plus,” I pointed out, in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“I guess,” she agreed as I exited the car to open the passenger side door.
“I’m still not going to let you win. I’m a mini golf champion, you know,” I joked, and she laughed. I hoped I could give her relief from her thoughts, if only temporarily.
“Old man, bartender, mini golf connoisseur. Is there anything you can’t do?” Grace hopped out of the truck. She laughed at her bad joke and threw her head back in amusement.
I leaned in and whispered, “I’m not just a bartender, Grace. I own Bar.”
Grace’s eyes widened and she muttered, “Shit.”
CHAPTER 12
Grace
So I was officiallya judgmental bitch. A judgmental stuck-up bitch. Fuck, Julia was right—I had terrible instincts.
I’d assumed that Caleb wasjusta bartender. Oh, how I was wrong. He not only owned Bar, he’d bought it off Owen when he was twenty-eight. Caleb said that Owen gave him a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and he took it. He used up every penny he had and sunk it into Bar, no doubt making it the place it was.
The more I got to know him, the clearer it was to me that Caleb was a hard worker, someone who didn’t want to let anybody down. As he spoke about his staff and how they were like family to him, he did so with such passion, I was almost jealous. I had nothing in my life that gave me that sort of fire. We kept our conversation light as we went through the mini golf course.
He had this way of alleviating my fears and anxiety. I didn’t want to live like I was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from me, but hated feeling out of control.
It had been so long since I’d played mini golf and never as an adult. I was experiencing a lot of firsts with Caleb, it seemed. The only other time I’d played was when I went to Coney Island withJulia right after our parents separated. I was fourteen and she’d just turned seventeen. I thought she was so cool for sneaking us out of the house. Not that sneaking out was that hard since it was only the housekeeper we needed to hide from.
I remembered feeling so normal. Like the teenage girls you saw on TV. It was almost liberating. Not at all like the prim and proper lifestyle I was used to. We played carnival games and laughed about all the cute boys who walked by.
When we passed a souvenir shop, Julia insisted on buying me something to commemorate our day of freedom.
I remembered the gleam in her eye when she saw trinkets for charm bracelets.
“Grace, come quick!”
I ran over to the little stand where about a hundred charms hung neatly on a wire rack. Some had letter initials on them, others little emblems depending on your interest. Julia grabbed a couple off the display before I could see what they said.
“These are perfect. You always wear your charm bracelet.” Julia pointed to my wrist where my silver bracelet hung. She held out one of the charms she’d selected so I could see, and I took it from her.
