“They’re barely speaking.”
Ruth looked up from the collard greens she was trimming.
“Maya.”
“What?”
“That is your parents’ marriage.”
“I know.”
“Then leave it in their house.”
Maya sighed.
“You never want gossip when it’s useful.”
“There is no useful gossip.”
“That is absolutely not true.”
Ruth smiled.
Maya had inherited Marcus’s mouth.
And Isaiah’s eyebrows.
At twenty-six, she worked in accounting and worried about everyone’s money except her own.
“Grandma?”
“Yes?”
“Did Dad really not know you owned the restaurant?”
Ruth shook her head.
“Apparently not.”
“That is embarrassing.”
“For him.”
“No, for all of us.”
Ruth laughed.
Maya sat across from her.
“Can I ask something?”
“You will anyway.”
“Why didn’t you ever give Dad part of the restaurant?”
Ruth stopped trimming greens.
“Why would I?”
“He’s your only child.”
“That does not make him qualified.”
Maya blinked.
Ruth continued.
“When your grandfather died, Marcus inherited money, investments, and a share of the house.”
“I know.”
“The restaurant is not a family heirloom. It is a business.”
Maya nodded slowly.
Ruth held up a collard leaf.
“This paid mortgages. College tuition. Hospital bills. Pensions.”
