Chapter 9 #2
“Wow! And sprinkles too!” Pepper lowers her face to the mountain of whipped cream and marshmallows. She takes a sip and then looks up with a little bit of whipped cream on her nose. It’s adorable. “I told you this place would be wonderful,” she says to her father who smiles at her indulgently.
“Can I get you anything?” Elinor asks with a hint of impatience.
“It’s good to see you.” I say.
She doesn’t reply, just puts her hand on her hip and waits for my order.
“Um . . . yes. I’m going to have breakfast with my friends, who were kind enough to ask me to join them after my breakfast date ghosted me.”
“I sent a text!” She says slightly exasperated. “You probably didn’t get it. Cell service is terrible here.”
“I got it. Thank you. I’m looking forward to my tour.”
“Good then, what would you like to drink?” She gives me a tight smile.
“I’ll take a cappuccino.”
She bites her lip. “Um, we don’t have a machine for that. Your grandpa . . .”
She trails off but I can guess what she’s going to say. I should have known better than to ask for a cappuccino. Grandpa had a random dislike of espresso.
“That’s fine, just give me whatever coffee you have.”
“It’s really good,” Brandon says, taking another sip.
“Alright then,” says Elinor. “I’ll be right back with your menu.”
As she turns away, I note the line drawing of the coast with the Bixby Bridge on the back of her shirt. I bet she designed it.
As soon as she’s out of hearing range, Pepper turns to me. “Soooo . . . how do you know her?”
“I knew Elinor as a kid and—”
“And now she’s your significant other?” finishes Pepper.
“No, but we’re friends . . . I think.”
“And she’s significant?” Brandon adds
“Maybe? It’s complicated.” I blow out breath.
“Isn’t it always?” says Brandon.
“Why is it complicated?” asks Pepper with her pen in her notebook, looking for all the world as is if she is about to take notes.
“Well—” I begin.
“Freshie!” Brandon interrupts. “You don’t need to indulge my daughter’s insatiable curiosity.”
“I don’t mind,” I assure him. And I really don’t. In fact I welcome talking this over with someone. “Okay, so Elinor manages this place, my mom owns it, and my boss—”
“Wait right there!” Pepper holds up her pen. “Your mom owns Norland Park?”
“She does.”
“Wow! I didn’t know one person could own a place like this. It’s like owning the sunrise.”
I get what she’s saying—it’s a gorgeous piece of land—but coming from Brandon’s daughter, the comment catches me off guard. Brandon owns more real estate than anyone I know.
“Seriously! That’s incredible!” she continues. “This is my favorite place ever.”
“You’ve already decided that, and we’ve been here for—” Brandon makes a dramatic show of checking his watch. “—less than twenty-four hours?”
“I just know these things,” says Pepper.
“Your mom owning this place does complicate things.” Brandon sips his coffee and looks up to the redwood trees shading the area. “What do you plan to do with the park?”
“What makes you think we’re going to change anything?”
Brandon quirks a brow. I’d forgotten how spare he could be with words. Back in college, the guy could say more with one expression than most people managed in an entire conversation. “C’mon Edward. I work in real estate. Are you telling me you don’t have any plans to improve the place?”
“Improve the place? Impossible!” says a fervent Pepper. “It’s perfect as it is. Don’t change a thing.”
Elinor appears with my coffee, a menu, and a fake smile—and my stomach sinks. If she overheard Pepper talking about improvements, she’s bound to have questions I’m not ready to answer.
Mom’s Cafe is written across the top of the menu she hands me. There’s a charming sketch of an otter lying on its back with a waffle and whipped cream balanced on its tummy, surrounded by doodles of trees, wildflowers, birds, and the cliffs of Big Sur. I have no doubt Elinor designed it.
“Thank you,” I take a sip, keeping my eyes on Elinor. “This is really good.”
“Why is she giving you a tour if your mom’s the owner?” asks Pepper.
“Because it’s really more her place.” I wave the menu toward Elinor. “For example, she drew this.”
“How did you know that?” Elinor asks, finally dropping her determined indifference.
“It’s your style—I’d recognize it anywhere. Remember, I have an original E. Greenwood painting in my bedroom.”
“Your bedroom?” She asks, lighting up. I absolutely hadn’t meant to tell her that detail.
“I told you it was on my wall.”
“That you did.” She smiles. Turning to Brandon, she says, “Just to be clear, the painting thing sounds much more impressive than it is. I’m not really an artist.”
I love that painting. Of course she’s an artist. I can’t understand why Elinor feels she must keep that part of herself under wraps. I fear she’s making herself small to make room for her mom and sister’s larger-than-life personalities—and they don’t even realize it.
“This menu proves otherwise,” says Brandon. “It’s really cool.”
“It’s adorable,” says Pepper. “I especially love the otter. You should turn some of these sketches into stickers. I’d buy an otter sticker.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Elinor looks thoughtful.
“I’m full of brilliant ideas,” Pepper says before writing more (apparently brilliant) ideas in her notebook.