During a lull in the conversation, Kathleen touched Susan’s arm. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. Is everything okay?”
Susan set down her wine glass and bit her bottom lip. For a long moment, she didn’t speak.
“There’s something I need to tell you all.” Susan took a deep breath. “I’m thinking of selling my catering business. The success has been wonderful, but it’s consuming my life. I know it’s crazy to give it all up, but each day feels like I’m running a marathon.”
The admission hung in the air like a stone dropped into still water.
Isabel reached across the table and squeezed Susan’s hand. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all. It sounds like you’re being honest about what you need. But this is a big decision. Have you talked to anyone else about it?”
“Not yet.” Susan’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I built my business from nothing. It was my dream after my divorce, my proof that I could succeed on my own. Selling it feels like I’m giving up on myself.”
“Oh, honey,” Kathleen said softly. “Recognizing your limits isn’t giving up—it’s wisdom. And you’ve already proven everything you need to prove. You turned your dream into reality. Maybe now it’s time to dream about something else.”
Lynda leaned forward, her expression earnest. “You’ve created something amazing. But you don’t have to sacrifice your happiness to maintain it. What would you do if you weren’t catering twenty hours a day?”
“I don’t know,” Susan said, and the uncertainty in her voice was heartbreaking. “For so long, the business has been my entire identity. I’m not sure who I am without it.”
Lynda sent Susan a reassuring smile. “You’re the woman who remembers everyone’s birthday, who sends care packages when people are sick, and who flew here to help Kathleen move into her home. The business is something you do, not who you are.”
Kathleen nodded. “You opened your catering business because you wanted to create beautiful experiences for people. That desire doesn’t disappear just because you sell the company. You could do that anywhere—including here.”
Susan looked up, surprise flickering across her face. “Here?”
“Why not?” Kathleen gestured around the room. “Sapphire Bay could use someone with your talents. Think about all the weddings, corporate retreats, and family reunions that happen around the lake. You could start small and choose events that bring you joy.”
“You could even partner with local businesses,” Isabel suggested. “The bookstore hosts events that need catering. I bet the bed-and-breakfasts would love to work with someone who does intimate dinners.”
Lynda nodded. “And you’d have three friends who’d be your biggest supporters and your most honest critics.”
Susan wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Not simple,” Kathleen corrected. “But possible. Change doesn’t have to be terrifying.”
Susan sighed. “I always thought success meant bigger and busier. More clients, more events, and more revenue. But somewhere along the way, I stopped enjoying baking delicious food and started feeling like I was drowning in spreadsheets and logistics.”
“Success can mean different things at different stages of our lives,” Kathleen said. “When I opened the café, success meant proving I could run a business on my own. Now, success means having time to appreciate moments like this—good friends, good food, and a view that takes my breath away.”
“Plus,” Isabel added with a mischievous grin, “if you moved here, you could help us keep tabs on Kathleen’s flirtation with Patrick.”
“Isabel!” Kathleen felt heat rise to her cheeks.
Susan’s eyes widened. “What flirtation?”
“There’s no flirtation,” Kathleen protested, but even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice.
Lynda laughed. “The woman’s blushing like a teenager. There’s definitely something happening with Patrick.”
“He comes to the café most mornings for coffee,” Kathleen admitted. “We talk about the construction project and about his grandsons. It’s just friendly conversation.”
“Uh-huh,” Susan said, clearly not buying it. “And do you have friendly conversations with all the construction workers?”
“That’s different. Patrick’s...” Kathleen searched for the right words. “He’s easy to talk to. He listens when I tell him about the house renovation, and he gives good advice. When my car wouldn’t start last month, he spent his lunch break helping me figure out what was wrong.”
“Sounds like more than friendship to me,” Isabel observed.
Kathleen looked at her three friends. They were watching her with expressions of fond amusement and genuine care. If anyone could understand the complicated feelings she was developing for Patrick, it would be them.
“I’m scared,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve been on my own for so long, and I’m finally comfortable with my independence. What if I’m misreading the situation? What if I risk our friendship and lose one of the best relationships I have in Sapphire Bay?”
