money. My parents did well, but Juliette and my uncle are loaded, and I think my dad may have a problem with it. My father comes from a long line of Philadelphia lawyers, but he is the rebel in the family. Something about not selling out his soul to the establishment, blah, blah, blah.
My father's grandfather, father, and two brothers are all lawyers. Even Aunt Juliette graduated Villanova with a law degree, although to my knowledge she has never used it. But my father ditched law school to become our township's sole courthouse bailiff, where he works everyday, never calls out sick, and gets an occasional thrill stopping local families from getting into fist fights. He loves it, but it isn't exactly what my grandparents consider a profession. To them it is just a mediocre job at best, and I'm sure their disapproval has never set well with my father. No child wants to disappoint their parents.
I'm not exactly sure what Uncle Joseph does, I just know that he owns his own company and makes a shit load of money. So I'm thinking that maybe my dad and aunt were once close, and when she married my uncle, she for lack of a better term, "sold out." I don't know. Maybe dad just doesn't like him and there is no real reason. I never cared enough in the past to find out the whole story. It wasn't an issue. We never saw them, and I only spoke to Aunt Juliette at Christmas and on birthdays. Maybe I'll find out the real story now that I live here.
"I don't own anything remotely fancy," I say hoping to get out of this family party. I'm exhausted and probably a little depressed.
"Anything is fine Elizabeth. It's a private room. Just family."
Crap to hell, I don't want to go to this. Preparing for this move to my aunt's house has thrown my work schedule completely off which is horrible when you're a starving entrepreneur. I've decided that my plan B is going to be an attempt at landing a pitch interview with an investment group that would change everything for me. Sloan briefly dated one of the money managers of the group and promised that she could get me fifteen minutes in front of them. In order to be ready though, I need to tweak the code to the app and build my database out further. It's important that I dot all my i's and cross my t's. I can't blow this pitch. I may never get an opportunity like it again. But what am I going to tell the woman who's opened her doors to me with no questions asked. That I don't want to go to my uncle's birthday dinner, because I'm an ungrateful brat?
"I look forward to it Aunt Juliette."
"Just call me Juliette sweetie. I'm not big on formalities."
We both silently stare at each other for an awkward moment. I'm trying to figure us out, and I think that she may be doing the same. We just don't know each other well yet.
"All righty then." My aunt breaks the momentary silence between us. "I'll let you get back to it. Can I fix you anything? A sandwich? Maybe a cocktail?"
Do I seem like I need a drink? Probably. It's weird though, having your aunt fix you a drink. Even though I'm totally legal, I would never drink with my parents. I don't care if I'm fifty-years-old and they're eighty-five. Not going to happen.
"I've got vino." She sing songs.
Aww what the hell.
"I guess I wouldn't mind a glass of red if you have it."
Chapter Nine
Elizabeth
THE GLASS OF SHIRAZ I practically inhaled at the house did absolutely nothing to quash my nerves. The muscles in my neck and shoulders start to tense up the moment I step into the restaurant. The delectable scents of meat, garlic, and a hot grill are wafting through the air, making my stomach rumble, and I can hear raucous laughter coming from the back. I'm entering the private room of the upscale Albright Bar & Steakhouse. The place where twenty-five family members I've never met are celebrating my uncle's birthday.
"Nervous?" My aunt asks while gently rubbing my back.
"A little," I admit. Kind of wishing she would stop touching me. It's only making