“Thank you for saying yes.” Paul moved closer, his expression earnest. “I know tonight was supposed to be about the Welcome Center, but for me it was also about proving something to myself.”
“What’s that?”
“That I can work with someone I care about without letting it become all-consuming. That I can be present and professional at the same time.” His voice dropped. “That I can be the partner someone deserves.”
Susan’s breath caught. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, the air charged with unspoken possibilities.
Before she could respond, Pastor John burst through the door with two other volunteers. “We need one more round of appetizers for some late arrivals. Do you have anything?”
The moment passed, but Susan felt its echo as she and Paul quickly assembled one last platter together. Some conversations could wait. And some things were better discussed outside the rush of an event, in the quiet moments when they had time to really listen to each other.
But as she watched Paul interact with the volunteers, saw the care he took in ensuring everything was perfect, Susan knew one thing with certainty. Whatever happened next between them, tonight had been important. They’d proven they could work together, support each other, and create something meaningful as a team.
And perhaps that was the best foundation anyone could ask for.
Chapter 30
Susan’s headlights cut through the darkness as she drove home from the Welcome Center. Exhaustion settled into her bones, but it was the satisfied kind that came from work well done.
Her thoughts drifted to Paul’s words in the kitchen, the vulnerability in his voice when he’d mentioned being the partner someone deserved. They’d been close to having a deep and meaningful conversation, but the interruption had probably been for the best.
As Susan turned the corner, she noticed lights blazing from every window of Lynda’s house. That was strange, considering it was nearly eleven o’clock.
Susan slowed her truck, debating whether to stop. The memory of Lynda’s tear-stained face at the hospital made the decision for her. She pulled into the driveway and climbed out into the cold December night.
No sound came from inside. Just silence broken by the distant lap of lake water against the shore. Susan knocked, then waited.
When the door opened, Susan’s stomach dropped. Lynda’s eyes were swollen and red, her face blotchy from crying. She wore the same clothes she’d had on at the hospital, now wrinkled and disheveled.
“Susan.” Lynda’s voice cracked. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw your lights were on.” Susan stepped forward. “Can I come in?”
Lynda nodded wordlessly and moved aside. Susan followed her into the living room, then stopped short.
Draped across the sofa was Lynda’s wedding dress. The beautiful deep winter white gown caught the lamplight, its fabric shimmering with an elegance that seemed cruel under the circumstances.
Beside the dress sat a cardboard box, partially filled with wedding items. The silk flowers Lynda had been so excited about. A stack of programs with Isabel’s careful calligraphy, wasted on an event that would never happen.
“Oh, Lynda.” Susan moved to her friend’s side.
“I keep telling myself it’s just a postponement.” Lynda sank into the armchair across from the dress. “That we’ll reschedule once Matt recovers. But watching him breathe with the help of machines...” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “What if the last conversation we had was about Christmas lights?”
Susan perched on the edge of the sofa, careful not to disturb the dress. “The doctors said the surgery went well.”
“Being optimistic isn’t a guarantee.” Lynda wiped at her face. “I thought I knew what fear felt like when my marriage fell apart. But this is different. This is watching someone you love fight for every breath and knowing there’s nothing you can do.”
The rawness in Lynda’s voice made Susan’s throat tighten.
“Have you eaten anything today?” Susan asked gently.
Lynda shook her head. “I can’t. Every time I think about food, I remember all the wedding planning we did around meals.” She gestured helplessly at the dress. “None of it matters now.”
“It matters,” Susan said firmly. “That future is just delayed, not destroyed.”
“Is it?” Lynda looked directly at Susan, her expression devastated. “I spent three hours making phone calls tonight. I had to tell each of our guests that Matt was in the hospital and we weren’t getting married after all.”
Susan could imagine how agonizing each call must have been.
