"Emma," her mother said, appearing behind her. "That's a personal question."
"But they do love each other! Everyone knows!"
After Emma's family left, Marcus leaned over. "Kid's not wrong. When are you proposing?"
"I'm not—we just decided to buy a house. Marriage is—that's a whole different thing."
"Is it, though? You're already living together, buying property together. Marriage is just making it official."
"Marcus, stop pressuring him," Rei said. "They'll get engaged when they're ready."
But Jake caught Lucy's expression—something between panic and hope. They hadn't talked about marriage. Not seriously. It was implied, sure, but not discussed.
Was he ready to propose? Was Lucy ready to be proposed to?
He had no idea.
The house purchase became real fast.
Lucy and Jake spent September organizing finances, meeting with the bank, getting pre-approved for a mortgage. It was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Lucy said one evening, reviewing paperwork. "Buying a house. At twenty-eight."
"Is that young? People buy houses in their twenties all the time."
"Yeah, but those people are usually married. With normal jobs and retirement plans. We're—we're a chef and a hockey coach buying a house together after dating for barely a year."
"We've known each other for four years."
"You know what I mean."
Jake set down the paperwork. "Are you having second thoughts?"
"No. Just—fears. What if we break up? What if this doesn't work out? Then we're stuck with a house we bought together."
"Then we sell it and split the proceeds. Lucy, there's no guarantee. In relationships, in houses, in anything. You just have to trust that it'll work out."
"I'm trying. I promise I'm trying."
"I know you are."
The magazine feature came out in mid-September.
Margaret's was on the cover of New England Food & Dining with the headline: "The New Generation of Vermont Cuisine." The article was glowing—calling Lucy "a chef to watch" and Margaret's "a destination restaurant worth the drive."
The response was immediate.
Reservations flooded in. People drove from Boston, from New York, from Montreal. Lucy had to hire two more servers and another line cook just to keep up with demand.
"This is insane," Daniel said one night after a particularly brutal service. "Boss, we're running out of space. We can't fit any more tables in here."
"I know. I'm already thinking about expansion. Maybe knocking out the back wall, adding more dining space."
"That's months of construction. Thousands of dollars."
"I know. But if we keep growing at this rate—we'll need it."
Lucy went home that night exhausted but exhilarated. Margaret's was succeeding beyond her wildest dreams. She'd built something real, something sustainable, something all her own.
