When Susan finally headed home, she looked back at Lynda and Matt’s home. The only lights that were still on were the security lights. Hopefully, that meant that Lynda was on her way to bed and not sitting in the dark, crying herself to sleep.
Susan glanced in the rearview mirror and pulled over to the side of the road.
Amy was waiting with Matt, but she’d want to know that her mom was overwhelmed and needed some extra love and attention. Susan pulled out her cell phone and texted Amy: Hi Amy. I just saw your mom and she’s having a difficult time at the moment. If you could come back from the hospital a little earlier, I’m sure Lynda would appreciate it.
Amy replied a few seconds later: Matt’s brother arrived a few minutes ago. Leaving the hospital now. Thank you for looking after Mom. XX
Susan closed her eyes and prayed that Matt’s body healed quickly. The sooner he came out of the coma, the sooner he could start his long road to recovery.
Chapter 31
Paul surveyed the dining room one more time before the BioTech guests arrived. Every table gleamed under soft candlelight. White linens were pressed to perfection, and centerpieces of pine and holly bought a little Christmas cheer to the room.
Through the front windows, he watched people leave Main Street as the Santa Claus Parade ended. Families bundled against the cold were walking toward the Christmas market, their children still clutching candy canes from Santa’s sleigh.
Harry appeared from the kitchen, his face flushed from working over the hot stoves. “Chef, the prime rib is resting. Jenny’s plating the first round of appetizers, and we’re holding the vegetables until fifteen minutes before service.”
“Good.” Paul nodded his approval. “What’s the temperature on the meat?”
“Perfect medium-rare throughout. We’re ready.”
Kathleen emerged from the office where she’d been organizing seating charts. Patrick followed close behind, his reading glasses perched on his head, with a clipboard in his hand. They’d volunteered to help coordinate the evening service when Paul had mentioned needing extra hands.
Paul glanced at his watch. Seven-thirty. The BioTech buses should arrive any minute now. The parade had ended right on schedule, and Peter’s group had texted that they were boarding the buses at the market square. Early departures from the parade were already creating traffic along Main Street as families headed to their cars.
Closing the restaurant for his regular customers was a calculated risk. He’d disappointed about two dozen people, but was hosting a company that could sustain the restaurant through three slow winter months. Paul believed he’d made the right decision, but the worried expressions on his staff’s faces suggested otherwise.
“How are we managing with the post-parade traffic?” Patrick asked, studying the street through the window. “Those buses should have better access now that most people are heading toward the market or going home.”
“I’ve spoken with the police department,” Paul said. “They’ll direct the buses to our side entrance. We’ll bring guests through the kitchen corridor instead of the main dining room. It’s not ideal, but it’ll make it easier for them to get into the restaurant.”
Jenny poked her head through the kitchen door. “The first bus driver just called. They’re five minutes out.”
Paul’s pulse sped up despite his outward calm. This was when their preparation was either perfect or fell disastrously short. He caught Kathleen’s gaze. She’d been part of enough high-stakes events to recognize controlled panic when she saw it.
“Everyone to their positions,” Paul announced quietly. “Kathleen, you’re greeting arrivals and checking names against the guest list. Patrick, direct people from the side entrance. Harry, hold the kitchen until I give the signal. Jenny, coordinate drink orders immediately after seating.”
His team scattered to their assigned posts. Paul remained in the dining room’s center, conducting a final mental inventory. The wine was chilled. Bread baskets were warming. The dessert components were ready to go. He’d done everything humanly possible to make the dinner a success.
The side door opened, admitting a blast of December air along with the first wave of BioTech employees. They arrived laughing, unwinding their scarves, and peeling off their hats and gloves. Kathleen greeted each person with genuine warmth, checking names with practiced efficiency while Patrick collected their coats.
Olivia Ramada entered with the second group, her smile widening when she spotted Paul. “This looks wonderful,” she said, gesturing at the transformed dining room. “Peter will be thrilled.”
“Where is he?” Paul asked, scanning the arriving guests.
“He insisted on enjoying the entire parade.” Olivia smiled indulgently. “He’ll travel here on the final bus.”
Paul nodded. “We’ll hold off serving any food until Peter arrives.”
Outside, the last of the parade spectators were dispersing. Through the windows, volunteers were already beginning to dismantle barriers along Main Street. The Christmas market remained active. Booths selling roasted nuts, handcrafted ornaments, and steaming mugs of cider still drew crowds. But the main event had concluded, and the town was settling into its evening rhythm.
Inside the restaurant, conversations rose as guests arrived and settled into their seats. Paul circulated around the tables, ensuring water glasses remained filled, bottles of wine were available on each table, and addressing concerns before they became complaints.
The transition from the parade to dinner felt smooth. Their guests were energized from the festivities outside but ready to enjoy their meal.
Kathleen touched his elbow. “That’s the last bus,” she murmured. “Peter Bennett just walked in.”
Paul turned to see the BioTech CEO standing in the entrance, snow dusting his shoulders, cheeks ruddy from the cold. Peter’s expression held pure delight as he absorbed the festive atmosphere. The decorated dining room, his employees’ laughter and animated conversation, and the sense of celebration that Paul had worked so hard to create.
