This story is my happy place; I do not plan on ever finishing it. It will go on and on like a soapie. Might break it up into volumes later.
"Grab a bunch of broken misfits, chuck them in a tribe, add some glitter and loads of weird-as garbage, voila...
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I know Danny is angry at me, and she has every right to be. I dropped her head-first into this situation, and I now think that she'd been drowning from day one. I am mad at myself as well.
Still, I am upset with her too. Nachonez is our livelihood. It's my dream; it's my baby. I've worked hard to get it up and running and finally made enough of a success of it to be able to breathe for a change. She cannot just let some stranger into the restaurant and let him do what he pleases.
She said he was helping, and Eddie confirmed that, but bless his heart, the boy is so easily influenced and cajoled. Danny is not easy to impress, but it involves a boy who is not even 18 years old yet. My daughter is wise beyond her years, but when it comes to boys, she has no common sense... or self-control. She'd proven that by falling for that party boy, Casanova and getting hurt.
I'll never forgive myself for dropping the ball like that. I'd been so busy getting my business off the ground, working my fingers to the bone, that I did not take the time to see what my daughter was getting up to and with whom.
I cannot drop the ball again, and this time, it is not only my children's hearts that are threatened. Our restaurant is also at risk. The business that keeps a roof over our heads. This is too much! I know it is not fair to blame her; she was doing her best, and none of us chose for Ricardo to get injured or ill. It is what it is.
I'm home now, and against my better judgment, I've decided to let the children prove to me that this boy they brought into my kitchen is a help and not a hindrance or, worse, a threat. I still think Danny made a mistake and fed me my own sauce, thinking it was the batch the boy made. There was something subtly different about it, though, but I cannot put my finger on it.
So, he is June Trent's grandson. That did sway me a little bit.
She died nearly ten years ago, though. He would've been around eight at the time. What could she possibly have taught him in that narrow window of time? It does make me feel infinitely sad to think that her great talent died with her and that the little boy she was passing it on to never got to benefit fully from her teachings, but it also saddens me that my daughter would base her trust in the boy on something that iffy.
"Oh, wow, Jelly Babes! You brought a friend! Did you think this was going to be playtime?" I hear Danny say and lean closer to the bannister. I often drink my coffee up here at the small table on the balcony next to the stairs leading down from our living quarters to the restaurant when I need to escape from the heat and bustle for a few minutes, but I still want to be instantly aware of any problems. It is the perfect vantage point from which to observe the serving area and the kitchen and be completely unnoticed by those below.
The kitchen and serving area are not directly under the living quarters and do not have ceilings of their own; though the kitchen is walled off from the restaurant, I can see over those walls from where I am seated. Sitting here causes a sensation of floating above a large portion of the bottom floor.
