"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For giving me another chance. For not giving up on us."
"Thank you for coming back. For choosing this. For choosing me."
"I'll always choose you. I promise. I know I have to keep proving that, but I will. Every day."
"I believe you. And Lucy—I'm not keeping score. I'm not tracking how many days you stay to determine if you've earned my trust back. We're building something new. Together."
"Something better than before?"
"Something real. Something that can survive distance and doubt and all the hard things."
Lucy kissed him, slow and deep. "Stay with me tonight?"
"I'm already home."
"I meant at Uncle Walter's. He won't mind. He loves you."
"Everyone loves me. I'm very lovable."
"So humble."
They walked to Uncle Walter's through the snow, and Lucy felt a contentment she hadn't felt in months. This was right. Jake was right. Timber Falls was right.
She'd spent seven months searching for herself in Paris. Turned out, she'd been here all along.
December arrived with more snow and Lucy's first major restaurant decision: the menu.
She'd been testing recipes for weeks, trying different combinations, getting feedback from Uncle Walter and Jake and anyone willing to eat her experimental dishes.
"This one," Rei said, tasting a pork belly appetizer. "This one is perfect. It's your grandmother's pork bun flavor profile but elevated. French technique, New England ingredients, Asian influence. It's exactly what Margaret's should be."
Lucy added it to her shortlist. The menu was coming together—twelve appetizers, eight entrees, six desserts. Small enough to execute well, large enough to give variety.
She was testing a butternut squash ravioli when Mae appeared at Uncle Walter's house.
"Lucy! I heard you were cooking. Can I help?"
"Mae! Oh my god, I haven't seen you in weeks!"
Mae had graduated from college and was working as a teacher's aide at the elementary school. She still had that same optimistic energy that had gotten Lucy through her darkest bakery days.
"I've been busy with work. But I wanted to check in. How's the restaurant coming?"
"Good. Scary. I'm terrified I'm going to fail spectacularly."
"You're not going to fail. You're going to be amazing. Can I help with anything? I miss working with you."
Lucy had been thinking about staff. She needed a sous chef, line cooks, front of house manager. Mae wasn't trained as a chef, but she was organized, enthusiastic, and understood Lucy's vision.
"Would you want to be my front of house manager? I can't pay much at first, but once we're established—"
"Yes! Absolutely yes! Lucy, I would love that!"
They spent the afternoon planning—Mae taking notes on front of house needs, Lucy refining her kitchen staffing requirements. It felt like old times at the bakery, the two of them working together, making something happen.
"I missed this," Mae said. "Working with you. Being part of something you're building."
