Chapter Twenty: An Invitation
Lydia
Dinner at the inn had a way of starting before anyone officially announced it had begun.
I came down the stairs to the sound of overlapping voices, the clatter of dishes, and the unmistakable smell of something Mom had put too much butter into on purpose. The dining room lights were already on, casting a warm glow over the long table Dad had extended as far as it would reasonably go, then extended a little farther anyway.
Jane stood at the head of the table with a stack of plates, directing traffic like she was running a small airport. “Careful, this one is hot.”
“It’s always hot,” Kitty replied, already reaching for it. “That’s the risk of dinner.”
Meri sat near the window with her sleeves pushed up, calmly setting out cutlery in neat pairs. She glanced up when she saw me and raised one eyebrow in a silent question that I interpreted as are you braced for this.
“Barely,” I said.
Mom moved between the kitchen and the table, adjusting napkins, straightening chairs, her cheeks flushed and her hair just beginning to slip free of its clip. Dad followed with the serving dishes, steady and methodical, placing each one down like it mattered exactly where it landed.
Dex and Braxton were already there, coats slung over chair backs, deep in conversation about something architectural and probably expensive. Braxton noticed me first.
“There she is,” he said. “The woman who successfully drove a parade float without destroying municipal property.”
“Very funny,” I said, sliding into my seat.
“He rarely is,” Dex replied dryly as he pulled out a chair for Lucy to sit down in.
The table filled quickly. Plates passed. Someone knocked over a glass and someone else caught it before it spilled. Kitty launched into a dramatic retelling of her morning that involved at least one stranger, a coffee mishap, and a firm belief that the universe was testing her.
I listened, smiling, letting the noise wash over me.
This was the part that grounded me. The chaos that wasn’t actually chaos at all. It was familiarity. It was knowing who would interrupt whom, who would argue just for the joy of it, who would quietly observe and then say something devastatingly accurate when no one expected it.
“So,” Kitty said suddenly, pointing her fork at me. “Are you going to admit that the parade was a success?”
“I already admitted it,” I said. “To myself. Quietly.”
Mom smiled at me from across the table, her expression warm in a way that made my chest tighten unexpectedly. “You did wonderfully driving with all those people and floats. You were so calm.”
I laughed. “I was not calm.”
“You looked calm,” she corrected. “I didn’t doubt you for a moment.”
Conversation shifted, as it always did, moving in unpredictable loops. Jane asked Dex about his latest project. Braxton teased William about the truck. Meri made an aside that only Kitty heard, which resulted in Kitty choking on her drink and laughing so hard she had to set it down.
It felt good. Normal. Like we were all exactly where we were supposed to be for the moment.
Braxton’s phone buzzed against the table near his elbow.
He ignored it at first, then frowned when it buzzed again. “Hold on,” he said, picking it up. He scanned the screen, his expression shifting from casual to intrigued.
“What is it?” Dex asked.
Braxton’s mouth twitched. “Well. That’s formal and a little late. Almost like she forgot about us.”
Jane leaned closer. “What is.”
“Carly just sent us an invitation to the Hale Holiday Gala,” he said.
That got everyone’s attention.
