make her stop. Why do we do it to you?”
“Because Mama said we had to since it’s her given name.” Anja frowned at Mama. “When I was oh, maybe twelve, and my friends called their mothers, mom, and I wanted to call you that, you said absolutely not. You even sent me to my room when I kept trying.”
That’d been quite the week. Papà had called it the battle of the frost giants.
Mama’s blue eyes held anger. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Sat back and stared at nothing. Then she turned to Frankie. “They’re correct. I’m sorry. Frankie. One’s name is a personal choice.”
Cribbio, Bull had accomplished in one night what she’d not managed in years. “Thanks, Mama.”
“So, if Kit’s out of the cult, you’ve achieved your goal. I’m glad you’re coming back to work.” Anja had obviously blown off everything Frankie had said at the B&B about being in love and planning to stay in Alaska.
“Oh, me, too.” Birgit tossed her hair back with a flirtatious look at Bull before telling Frankie, “The makeup people keep messing up my eyeliner before a shoot. And my agent is being a total asshole. You need to talk to him and—”
“Is that what you do all day?” Bull gave Frankie’s hair a light tug. “Deal with quarrels?”
She sighed, because it sounded awful, didn’t it? “That’s the job description, yes. I’m essentially a diplomat in a war zone filled with models and advertising people.”
“Chiquita.” Caz’s voice was smooth and concerned. “You love being with people, I know that. I’ve seen how much you enjoy managing the roadhouse and making the customers and staff happy. You have a sweet, good-natured personality. Enduring hours of angry, frustrated people must feel like you were tossed into a blackberry bush. Do you truly like doing that?”
Papà frowned…and Mama acted as if she was the one tossed into a blackberry bush.
Feeling as if she’d let them down and hurt their feelings, Frankie stared at the table. What Caz said was the truth, but it wasn’t what they needed or wanted to hear.
Bull lifted their clasped hands, resting them on the table. “Sweetheart?”
Why could she deal with everyone else in the world, but not her family? She hadn’t changed her mind, still wanted to stay, but her family had decided different. And was making their claim on her clear.
Did she want to start this fight here, in the restaurant? “Bull, it’s not…”
His black eyes captured hers. “So, when we have children, you’re going to tell them they must work at Bocelli’s, whether they want to or not. Even if it makes them unhappy.”
“Of course not.” Her answer came a second before her brain told her that she’d just opened the can of worms she wanted to handle in private.
“I fear you don’t understand,” Mama said, her voice frozen.
“Ah, the ice queen,” Frankie heard Caz say under his breath.
“We supported our daughter in college with the understanding she’d return to work for the company.”
Actually, that’d never been stated. Just understood.
“Ah, many of my friends in the medical professions have done the same as Frankie—accepted help, then worked in a less…pleasant…work environment for a couple of years.” Caz smiled at Frankie. “Is your two years not up yet, chica?”
If she wasn’t totally in love with Bull—and if JJ wasn’t usually carrying a gun—Frankie would kiss the doc right on the mouth.
“I’m not sure when I should start counting.” She tapped her fingers on her lips. “Should it be at twelve when I started helping after school. Or when I worked there every weekend in college? Or just the four years I’ve worked there after I got my MBA?”
There was silence around the table.
And, okay, she was done with this. “However, if you think I still owe you, then send me a bill, and I’ll pay you back. We’ll pretend it was a loan.”
“Wait—does that mean I’d have to pay you back for the money you’ve given me?” Birgit asked, appalled.
“No. No, you do not. None of you do.” Her father rubbed his face. “This is a night for uncomfortable insights, is it not?”
“Uncomfortable?” Anja said. “You mean hearing that we’ve all been shitting on F—on Frankie. Because we can.”
“Anja! Language,” Mama snapped.
“The word bothers you, but making your daughter eat it doesn’t?” Anja gave Mama a hard look. “Mama, I know you love her as much as you do me and Birgit, but you treat her differently. Probably because she doesn’t want to be a model. She’s put up with