He nodded. “Yeah. In the burbs. I went to Brentwood Academy and had a pretty easy childhood. Private school, music lessons, volunteering. I was an only child, but that mostly meant I got a ton of attention. It was a little lonely sometimes, but Uncle Beau always seemed to understand. He went out of his way to make me feel special. By the time I went to college, I knew I wanted to work for the family business and learn from him. I respected him so much. And I can’t say I have regrets either. What about you?”
He looked a little unsure of himself, like he knew how different our stories were and couldn’t tell if he should feel bad about the disparity or not. I reached across and squeezed his hand. “I’m real happy you had such a happy and safe childhood, Parrish. You deserved it. You deserve the best of everything. They’re lucky to have you—your parents and uncle, I mean.”
He squeezed my hand back. “Thank you. Every kid deserves it. You deserved it too.” He’d said that last part with a soft voice, as if he knew where this story was probably going.
I let go of him and sat back, nudging my empty plate out of the way. “I had it good for a while too. I mean, my parents weren’t super rich or anything, but Dad worked as a manager of a distribution center, and my mom had an in-home daycare. My sister, Beth, and I were close. She was only two years younger than me and popular as hell. Everyone loved her. She’d made best friends early on with a girl named Stella Kensington. They were wealthy horse breeders. Well, they still are, I guess.”
I took a sip of my ice water to steady myself. Parrish was listening carefully without pressuring me at all. I took a breath and continued. “Our parents died in a house fire that destroyed my grandparents’ house with my parents and grandparents in it.” My voice cracked, and Parrish jumped out of his seat to come over and hug me.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Beth and I had stayed home because we hated my grandmother’s pot pie. We both threw such a fit, our parents finally gave up trying to get us to go with them. We should have been there.”
“No. No, sweet man. Your parents would have never wanted you there. They would have wanted you to live your life, a long, full life.”
I inhaled the sweet scent of him before forcing myself to pull away. “Thank you,” I said. “I was over it, you know? I mean, as much as you can be. But then Beth died and… we weren’t even that close anymore, but it still brought back all of it.”
“So the two of you came to live with your aunts?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “No. They’re not really my aunts. Not by blood. We didn’t have any living relatives. Beth had the Kensingtons. They agreed to take her in rather than let her go into the system. But they didn’t want me. Beth didn’t want us to split up, but I knew growing up with Stella and the Kensingtons’ money would mean a big world of opportunity for her. So I ran away before she could turn them down.”
I could tell Parrish wanted to come back over to my side of the table to comfort me again, but I’d start crying like a baby if he did.
“I hitched a ride on a truck full of old wrecked cars. The truck came here to the salvage yard. Stix Yancey discovered my skinny ass and ripped me a new one. Turned me in to the police right off the bat. They didn’t have anyone who could take in a kid that weekend except Dot and Birdie Johnson, who were already approved as fosters. I guess they decided not to give me back,” I said with a laugh.
Parrish smiled. “I guess Mr. Yancey ended up coming around?”
I nodded. “It wasn’t easy, but yeah. He ended up letting me work here until suddenly I was managing the place. He died a couple years later. It was around that time I reached out to Beth on Facebook. We reconnected and talked on the phone, but things were weird. I knew her life hadn’t ended up as easy as I’d hoped, but she was still grateful for the Kensingtons. When she passed, I was surprised to find out she’d had a baby, let alone that she’d left Marigold to me.” I frowned.
“How did Beth die, Diesel?” he asked gently.
“A stroke? At least that’s what they said. I’d never heard of that happening to women so young, but they said it can have something to do with childbirth. I don’t really know. It’s been a month and I still feel like I can’t get my brain around it. I guess it doesn’t really matter, though, does it? She’s gone, and now it’s just me and Marigold. Well… unless the Kensingtons get her, that is.”