Birthright

“Weeeell…” Cher says, drawing out the vowel far longer than necessary. She tilts her head and examines me for a moment before her smile returns. “I suppose so.”

“How long have you lived in Cascade Falls?”

“My whole life,” Cher says. “My father worked on the construction of the lodge back in the eighties.”

“I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, and I’m trying to figure out this whole “West Side-East Side thing. Can you explain it to me?”

Cher pauses, her smile waning. She hastily scans the room as if she might encounter a spy hidden in a shadowy alcove.

“Yeah—that’s what I’m trying to figure out,” I mumble, and Cher looks back to me quickly.

“It’s a bit of a…family feud issue,” she says quietly. “To be honest, we don’t talk about it.”

“I got that idea,” I say, “but how am I suppose to keep myself from committing regional faux pas when I don’t understand any of it?”

“You seem like a nice girl, Cherry,” she says, “and since you were kind enough to let me sit with you, I’ll give you a very brief overview, but then I need to get back to work.”

“That would be helpful, I’m sure.”

“But first, tell me where you live.”

“East side of town.”

She lets out a long breath, clearly relieved. Leaning back in her chair, she closes her eyes for a moment before looking back at me.

“There are two prominent families in Cascade Falls—the Orsos and the Ramsays. The Orso family is on the east side of town and the Ramsays on the west. Their conflict goes back decades—way before I was born—and I’m not exactly sure how it all got started, but they hate each other with a daytime-drama-like passion. Both families are into the real estate business—keeping to their own side of town, obviously—and both families have other businesses, too. For the most part, they stay out of each other’s way.”

“So, two big families have grief with each other. I get that, but why is the whole town involved?”

“In Cascade Falls, you have to choose a side,” Cher says with a shrug.

“Why?”

“It’s just safer that way,” she says as she stands up. “Sorry, my break is over. I need to get back. It was good to meet you, Cherry.”

She runs off before I can say another word, and I’m left with even more questions than I had before. I pitch my empty coffee cup and head back to the car.

*****

It’s five minutes before eight o’clock, and my hands are starting to sweat. I rub my palms on my jeans and force myself to stop pacing by plopping my ass on the kitchen chair.

“You are still being ridiculous,” I say aloud. “What if he gets held up and doesn’t call? Are you going to sit here all night waiting for the phone to ring?”

I stare at the phone as if it has any answers for me. I check the text messages to see if there are any ellipses under his name, but there are not.

“Ridiculous,” I say again. I place the phone on the table in front of me and push the chair back. I swallow hard. It’s now two minutes until eight o’clock.

If I am to face facts, I’m thrilled that Nate seems interested in me though also a little baffled. I’m not accustomed to attention from men. After Justin, I preferred to find my relationships in book boyfriends—ones that never faltered in their dedication to the heroine and certainly didn’t roll over post tryst and proclaim their alternative sexuality. With real men, I don’t try very hard and was once told I was standoffish and unapproachable. I don’t know why I come off that way, but I also assume it to be that part of myself that is only visible to others.

“Do I have resting bitch face?” I hold up the phone and flip the camera around as if to take a selfie. I don’t see anything either wrong with or particularly interesting about my face.

Regardless, I’m not sure how to respond to a man’s approach, especially not a rich, gorgeous one. I’m not even sure if I’m reading him right at all, and my own insecurities keep telling me that he’s just being nice to the new girl and not coming on to me at all. A man that attractive with that much money has to have women dripping off of him and no need to pursue some socially awkward girl from nowhere Maryland.

At exactly eight, the phone rings. I take a deep breath before I pick it up and accept the call.

“Hello?” My heart pounds.

“Hello, Cherry.” Nate’s deep, smooth voice makes my skin tingle. “How was your day?”