"I still believe this situation is far from ideal," he continued. "The age difference concerns me. But I believe you're not the opportunist I once thought you to be."
"Thank you," I said quietly, feeling a slight rush.
"I apologize for my harsh words and assumptions." He narrowed his eyes on Nate. "And it doesn't mean I approve of all of this," he said, waving his fork around, "but I told Mrs. Bradley I’d behave, so let's just eat."
Nate's mom let out a small sob of relief before putting her food into her mouth.
Nate squeezed my hand again, and I saw the shock on his face.
His father offering any kind of apology was clearly unprecedented.
We resumed eating, with the atmosphere still tense and conversation almost nonexistent, and a knock at the door made us all lift our heads.
Nate's mom frowned. "Who could that be on Thanksgiving?"
"I'll see to it." Mr. Bradley stood and walked to the front entrance.
We heard muffled voices, then his father saying firmly, "This is not an appropriate time."
"It can't wait," another voice insisted. "The committee needs your support if we're going to resolve this situation before the ceremony next week."
My stomach dropped because I recognized that voice from the civic club luncheon.
One of the committee members who had been particularly vocal about his disapproval of my appointment as Hearthkeeper was here.
I looked to Nate, who seemed to pick up on that same fact at the same time I did.
"The situation you are referring to is a private family matter," Nate's dad said.
"It's a public matter when it involves the Lightkeeper tradition. We need Miss Harrison to resign immediately, and we need you to convince your son that it's the right course of action." I thought I'd be sick, but hearing Nate's dad go to bat for us made me finally believe that things were shifting in our favor.
"I will do no such thing." Nate's father's voice was cold. "My son's personal life is his own business. Speak with him on your own time."
The door closed with a decisive thud and Nate's dad returned to the dining room grumbling something under his breath.
He sank into his chair and ran a hand over his balding head.
"I apologize for that interruption," he muttered. "The committee's been pressuring me to intervene, and I allowed them to believe I'd support their position. It was a mistake on my part."
I stared at him, trying to process what had just happened.
Tears welled up in my eyes as relief flooded me.
"Thank you," Nate said quietly, and I realized he probably felt the same way I did.
Like the whole world wasn't against us anymore.
His father nodded. "I still have reservations about this entire situation," he said grumpily, and Mrs. Bradley chuckled as she picked up the bowl of candied yams.
"Yes, dear," she sighed, scooping some onto her plate.
Our toughest critic had caved and finally, he saw the light of understanding.
Now, if convincing Mr. Bradley wasn't enough to sway the committee, at least it was enough to bring peace to Nate's family.
I allowed myself to hope that life could find some sort of happy rhythm as soon as the ceremony was over and Nate's duties as Lightkeeper had passed.
And until that time, I resolved to keep my head held high.
