Brandon (Anderson Billionaires #3) - Melody Anne Page 0,2

Genevieve said.

Joseph noticed how Chloe clenched her jaw, but she handed over the cloth, and Genevieve wiped over the area Chloe had just swiped, then proceeded to clean the entire counter in front of her.

“A clean surface is the first step in all preparation of food,” Genevieve said.

“Yes, I know, Mother. You’ve said that since I was a child,” Chloe said as she took the rag back.

Chloe looked at Joseph again. “Along with owning the school, my mother is also a world-renowned food critic. She can make or break a new facility.”

Genevieve laughed before taking another sip of her wine. “I wouldn’t say I have that much power,” she said. But Joseph had a feeling she did indeed have it. He could see it by the way she carried herself.

“And what does your father do?” Joseph asked.

Chloe smiled. “He’s a chef and has a line of high-end restaurants.”

“That’s quite the combination,” Joseph told her. “Did you always want to go into the family business?”

Chloe’s shoulders stiffened. “This is my restaurant, not one of my father’s.”

Those words made her mother frown. “Your father always wanted to go into business with you,” she said. It was obvious this was a point of contention between them.

“It’s always wonderful to have the kids work with us, but also it gives me enormous pride when I see my family members striking out on their own,” Joseph said.

“Sometimes a wiser person knows when to strike out and when to join,” Genevieve said.

Interesting, Joseph thought. He liked this woman. He could see her character beneath the very uptight demeanor. He wanted to know more.

“Are you going to offer me a menu?” Genevieve asked.

“Is it for a family visit or for your paper?” Chloe asked.

“You know it would be unethical for me to comment on your business. Of course, I’d be biased.”

Chloe gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “No, Mother, I don’t think there’d be any bias at all,” she said as she pulled out a menu.

Joseph would’ve never thought Chloe’s mother would be who she was. Chloe was full of warmth and a lot of vinegar. Her mother looked as if she didn’t often, if ever, let go and smell the roses. He wanted to dive in and learn so much more about them.

And he would.

In his later years of life Joseph had learned he didn’t need to be in a hurry. Slow and steady truly did win the race.

“As much as I want to sit here and keep visiting, I have an appointment I can’t miss,” Joseph said as he threw down an exorbitant amount of money for his couple of drinks. Chloe tried to protest, but he ignored her as he stood and looked at Genevieve. “It truly was a pleasure. I look forward to next time.”

“Me as well,” Genevieve said.

Joseph leaned in, then slid the papers closer to Chloe, letting her know he hadn’t forgotten about his reason for being there. She took them with another long-suffering sigh.

“Thank you for coming, Joseph. Remember that I just said I’d look at them. This is in no way a done deal.” He smiled at her before turning and walking away.

She could say whatever it was she wanted. He knew he’d won. He might as well start planning the wedding to his nephew to save time later. Then by this time next year he could be holding a new grandniece or grandnephew in his lap while the Christmas presents were being opened.

Yes, it truly was beginning to look a lot like Christmas, and as long as a mystery was there to be solved and love was in the air, he was getting exactly what he wanted each and every year.

CHAPTER ONE

Was time anyone’s friend? Brandon Anderson wasn’t sure. They said time healed all wounds. That was partly true. It was sort of like that scar on his leg from when he’d had a perfect grand slam. He’d slid into the base after sending three of his teammates home. The ball had hit the catcher’s mitt as he’d done his best to knock the guy over.

And he’d been the victor, securing their national championship 12–11. His teammates had carried him on their shoulders from the plate as blood had dripped down his calf. He hadn’t even realized the injury would get him six stitches until the adrenaline had slowed. But the scar remained to this day.

Time marching on was like that. He’d lost his mother, the single-most devastating day of his life. It had been two