“I judged him harshly in the beginning,” Stacy said as we arranged centerpieces on each of the tables.
“What?” I asked.
She gestured vaguely in the direction Kent had gone. “Your city boy. Brom isn’t going to say it, so I will say it for us both. We were wrong.”
I laughed. “Be careful. We don’t want Brom to hear you say that. I don’t think he knows what those words mean.”
“He’ll come around,” she said. “I like him.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not going to lie, I had my reservations, but he’s grown on me.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised by the admission. Stacy wasn’t usually one to change her opinion about people quickly.
“Really. He’s saving us. Saving my children’s home. Maybe he saved my marriage because I swear I was going to murder your brother if he didn’t pull his head out of his ass. I cannot remember the last time I saw him this happy. He’s truly happy. Relieved. It’s like a thousand-pound gorilla just hopped off his back.”
I smiled because it was true. We were all feeling the relief. “But we all agree there is still a lot of work to do.”
“Of course, but it’s working toward something,” she said. “Before, we were treading water and failing. We were sinking fast and none of us could save each other. I am looking forward to working hard. I’ve got some ideas for improving our menu. Allstuff we can work out after the first of the year. I want to focus on the right now.”
“I agree.”
“Plus, he makes you happy,” she added. “That counts for a lot in my book.”
I grinned.
Brom, who was hanging garland nearby, paused in his work. Apparently, he had been listening in. “Yeah, well, I still have some reservations,” he said, though his tone was more thoughtful than hostile. “But I’ll admit the guy has surprised me. That light display he created? That took real effort. And dedication. You don’t spend six hours in freezing weather stringing vintage Christmas lights unless you really care about someone.”
The admission from Brom felt like a small miracle. My brother had been Kent’s harshest critic from the beginning. I didn’t blame him for being pissed at Kent but hearing him acknowledge Kent’s efforts meant more to me than I could express.
It was everything. And Dad obviously liked him.
It felt too good to be true, but it was real. He was mine and here and he was saving the family business.
One of the staff walked out of the kitchen with sandwiches stacked on a tray. “We’ve been working hard all day, and there’s still much to do,” she said. “Everyone needs to eat something before we all collapse from exhaustion.”
As we gathered around the food, I caught sight of something through the doorway to the main room that made my heart swell so much I thought it might burst.
Mom and Dad were dancing.
Not the formal, careful dancing they did at wedding receptions or formal events, but real dancing. The kind where Mom had her arms wrapped around Dad’s neck and he wasspinning her slowly around the room while they both laughed at something one of them had said. The kind of dancing they used to do when Brom and I were kids, when we’d catch them in the kitchen after dinner, swaying to music only they could hear.
“When’s the last time you saw them do that?” I asked softly, my eyes welling with tears.
Brom stopped chewing and looked toward the main room, his expression softening. “Years,” he said quietly. “It’s been years.”
I watched my parents continue their impromptu dance, taking in the way Dad’s face had relaxed into something approaching genuine happiness, the way Mom was looking at him like they were newlyweds again instead of a couple who’d been married for over thirty years and dealing with more stress than any two people should have to handle.
This was what Kent’s investment offer had given us. Not just financial security, but hope. The chance to remember who we were when we weren’t constantly worried about keeping our heads above water.
Turned out, people could dance, eat and smile when they weren’t under a mountain of stress. Goodbye gorilla.
“Okay, everyone,” Stacy said carrying out a tray and breaking the moment. “I need honest feedback on these appetizers. Don’t just tell me they’re good—tell me what you really think.”
We dutifully tried everything on the tray, and honestly, it was all delicious. The bacon-wrapped scallops were perfectly cooked, the mushrooms were savory and rich, and the puff pastry things were some kind of amazing combination of cheese and herbs that made me want to eat the entire batch.
“These are incredible,” I said, reaching for a second mushroom. “The seasoning is perfect.”
