“Bruce,” the tall man next to Sarah said, extending his hand.
“So great to meet you,” I told him.
“Come in.” Sarah herded us toward the house, grinning from ear to ear.
“Forgive my wife. I don’t know if she’s more excited to see the light of her life, her son, or meet you.”
I tried to smile but felt a frown form.I’ll never have a mother excited to see me.
“I’m so sorry,” Bruce said, catching my expression. “That was insensitive. I should say I’m sorry about your loss. Your mom.”
Price murmured, “Shit.”
When I caught him shaking his head, I squeezed his hand. Taking a deep breath, I collected myself.
“No, don’t feel that way. You can’t protect me from the world,” I said, side-eyeing Price as we stepped inside the house.
With a slow glance, I took in all that was around me. Family pictures, heirlooms, flannel blankets on the couch ... it was a real honest-to-goodness home.
“You know what? I just met you, but I’m going to tell you what I know. I just walked in here, and it’s a home. A real home, made by a mom who loves Price. But I had a similar home, only made by a dad. He loved me more than anything, and he did better than his best.”
Gathering me back in his embrace, Price kissed the top of my head and held me tight. “Let’s not stand in the doorway,” he said, breaking the seriousness.
“I cooked!” Sarah ran off toward what I assumed was the kitchen.
“And I made dessert. It’s in the back so Tuck wouldn’t get it,” I said, motioning toward the car.
“Let’s get those jackets off and settle in, yeah? Price, go get the food,” Bruce said, holding a hand out for my jacket. Price opened the door, and an eager Tuck followed him out to the car.
Bruce showed me the way to the kitchen, and I gasped.
“This place is so perfect. It’s awesome.”
“I love it. We redid it a few years ago,” Sarah told me. “Price helped with some of the work. He’s pretty handy. I guess in the big city, though, that doesn’t matter.”
“Mom,” Price said in a warning voice as he walked back in, holding my tray of ramekins.
“I know, honey. I didn’t mean anything. You’re doing big things there, and that’s what I always wanted for you.”
She smiled at her son. Wearing a crisp white blouse and an apron, a few threads of gray at her temples, Sarah was every bit a proud momma.
“This is what I wanted to talk to you about,” Price said. “I think I want to open a restaurant. Sorry to blurt it out. It’s a lot of seriousness in the first few minutes of this visit. But I’m not sure I’m coming back here.”
The pace of this conversation was like a Ping-Pong game. Way too fast for me, but I went with it.
“In New York?” Bruce asked, opening a beer.
“Yep, or maybe in the beach town where Emerson grew up, if she changes her mind. I only sprang this on her late last night. Are you upset?”
“No, son.” Bruce walked around and threw his arm around Price’s shoulders.
“Never,” Sarah said. “We always wanted you to do whatever makes you happy. But the restaurant business is tough ... and do you know anything about it?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of research on it in my classes. I think my idea is unique enough, and I bring the right stuff to the table. I want to build something with a piece of home. Fresh homegrown ingredients in the city,think rooftops instead of water towersis my motto. I’ve been outlining it in my head, and I tossed the idea around with one of my professors.”
“What about your degree?” Sarah asked, and I hoped she didn’t ask me. I liked baking and working, and I hoped to play a part in the restaurant without actually having to go to college to do it. I’d spent a good part of the night thinking about it.
“I’m still going to get it,” Price said. “But I have these funds available to me, and I know what I want to do with them.”
