30

"I'm so excited about this," Soph says, impatiently moving around in her seat. We were all in my car, Jenny included, driving to Mrs. Bardot's — or Stella's — restaurant. "And a bit nervous too, what if she shuts us out?"

"There's a very high chance of that happening, taking everything into consideration," I sigh, looking at them through the rear-view mirror. "We're not there to corner her though, so we shouldn't act like it — maybe it's best if either Jenny or I do the questioning, Soph."

She lets out a groan but murmurs a "fine" nonetheless.

We decided it was best to talk to her rather than make our own assumptions. I'm not sure if Stella will talk much with Jenny and Soph in town but it doesn't seem fair to not include them, since they've been a big help — especially Jenny who also seemed to take an interest in the whole ordeal.

"It might also be a bit overwhelming to have a bunch of kids questioning her about something that is most likely still painful to her," Jenny hums. "We should definitely take a soft approach to the subject."

"I'm pretty sure she'll see right through us," Soph says, still sulking in her seat.

"Probably, but it's still a nicer approach than just going all in out of nowhere," I say, parking the car in an available spot in front of the restaurant. Absolutely empty as always.

I take a deep breath as we get out of the car and enter the restaurant, there's no one inside other than the usual waiter that was also the receptionist, and the bartender — a teenager that probably thinks she has won in life by landing this very low demanding job, and with that said I'm pretty sure she despises Daniella and I, given we're the only ones that constantly show up. Today, I'm sure she's cussing us out under her breath as she sits us near a window.

"We only have chicken breast stroganoff with white rice today," she says with a rather forced smile.

I look around seeing both Soph and Jenny nodding their heads. "That's fine with us."

"For drinking, we have water and freshly squeezed orange juice," she speaks again, and I know for sure she'd murder us if we make her squeeze those three cups of orange juice.

"We'll take the orange juice," Soph says before I could gather all answers.

"Ok," the girl says under her breath, taking off with our order.

"I wanted water," Jenny pouts looking at Soph.

"I just wanted to see her face, we can ask for one once she comes back," she smirks.

"Watch her spit in our drinks."

"I'm watching her."

"I've always wondered who's the one doing the cooking," I hum. "It couldn't be Mrs. Bardot, right? She isn't horribly old but I'd think she would rather not have to deal with that kind of thing at her age."

"I do hope it's her though because it means she's here, and we didn't do all this just to not cross paths with her."

"Thinking about it, there is a high chance she is the one cooking since this restaurant is only open for 3 hours a day, during lunch, doesn't seem that straining — in truth, it seems exactly like the type of work schedule an older person would set."

"All I'm thinking about is how is this place still up and running, I mean, it's only open for a fraction of time and even then no one shows up — I'm thinking money laundering," Soph says, scratching her chin. Jenny and I both glance at each other but Soph cuts us off before either of us could say anything. "Yeah, I know, we didn't come for that type of chisme."

"Yeah, we can't just jump from asking about her supposedly deceased wife to money laundering."

"It's pretty badass though, I wonder if she's secretly a drug lord or something."

"That's definitely not on my bingo card," I chuckle as I watch the girl behind the counter come with our drinks.

"Fuck, I wasn't watching."

Not before long the food is also brought to us, all we need to do is wait for her to come out, even if we have to wait until closing time which is about 1 hour from now. Thinking about it, it is a bit intrusive but it goes unsaid that both Soph and I have never really cared about that, and Jenny is way too curious to care much either.

Plus, we're going to ask her directly instead of detective-ing our way into the truth — it's already such an improvement from our old ways.

To our luck, she comes out of the back just as we're finishing eating, our eyes meet right away and I have a feeling she just wants to keep walking until she's out through that front door. Yet to my surprise, she stops at our table — it was definitely the pleading in my eyes, embarrassingly enough.

"I knew it had to be you," she says, glancing at each one of us, her gaze stopping at Jenny for a bit too long. "I found it a bit strange about the third plate since you have always ordered for two, but I see you have brought your friends."

"The food here is too good to gatekeep," I chuckle, pulling a chair. "Sit down with us for a bit."

She stares at me for a good second before doing so, yeah, she definitely caught onto us. "Sure."

"Mrs. Bardot, so good to see you on a day other than Monday," Soph says with a big smile, the excitement getting in control of her but Mrs. Bardot only hums.

I clear my throat, glancing at Jenny. "So… I know this might sound a bit weird since we're just a bunch of teenagers…"

"Three isn't a bunch, it's a few," she cuts me off. "So much beating around the bush, just spit it out."

Both Jenny and I are left too stunned to speak, we haven't even gotten to the beating around the bush stage and she's already annoyed. I open and close my mouth a few times but nothing comes out, I have no idea how to go about this.

"Before anything, the moment you came around I noticed you took a particular interest in Jenny here, does she look familiar to you?" Soph blurts out.

"She does actually," Mrs Bardot says, rewarding Soph with a small smile silently thanking her for taking any kind of initiative. "You kids are really noisy, nothing else more interesting to do around town?"

"Not really no," Soph answers back. "But who's beating around the bush now?"

Mrs. Bardot let out an amused chuckle to the surprise of all of us, even to the girl behind the counter, that even though she wasn't the slightest interested in our conversation to listen in, was still left awestruck by the sound.

"You are an exact replica of your grandmother in her teen years," she says, now addressing Jenny. "I'm guessing this is the reason you're all here."

"Were you two in a romantic relationship? Is that why my parents despise both of you?"

"You could say that."

"I didn't know that," Jenny sighs. "I haven't been told much but what I have gathered from the little amount of information I was given, was that you two were childhood friends, not only that but they left the impression that you were a bad example to her, and one of the reasons she later divorced my grandfather 25 years into their marriage."

"They were right on that."

"So you were her mistress?" Soph asks, earning a kick from under the table from Jenny.

"I wouldn't personally call myself someone's mistress," she hums, unbothered by the question. "The marriage itself was a facade by her parents, she never loved that man and he never loved her either — I'm pretty sure he had his own affair going on with a younger woman."

"My step-grandmother then?"

"Precisely."

"What made her divorce him after all that time?" I ask, seizing the opportunity to ask a question of my own.

"The kids were then adults and she was tired of having to deal with the whole pretend ordeal, of course, that didn't mean we could just come out but being together in our own space without having to worry about having to go back home to someone else was incredibly freeing," she sighs. "Even though that didn't last for long."

"How did she die?" Soph again, earning another kick, this one from me.

"Road accident," she answers simply. "Not immediately, unfortunately, she suffered through the course of a few weeks."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say, cussing myself for such a half-assed console.

"Was it really an accident though?" Soph asks, and at this point, I'm starting to think that it's useless to shut her up, and if anything, Mrs. Bardot seems more than unbothered by her out-of-touch questions.

"Yes, I've looked into it myself, and I doubt her own family would do such a thing to her, if anything they would have done it to me."

"Maybe that was the intention," Soph answers back, they stare at each other for a while. "Or not."

"I like you, young girl," Mrs. Bardot says in an amused tone. The gleam in Soph's eyes is visible from miles away. I'm pretty sure she was already happy and overwhelmed for the simple fact she was talking to her in the first place.