Chapter Fifteen – Meryl
Why had she said yes to this?
Meryl adjusted the wrapping around the framed gift in her lap as Spencer pulled up outside Thornberg Restaurant.
She knew why. Of course, she knew why. She wanted to see the part of his life that existed beyond Pine Cottage. Beyond half-finished rooms and salvaged brass and kisses that had left her far too aware of herself. And him.
“Nothing fancy,” Spencer had said. “Just dinner at the restaurant.”
But the moment they stepped inside, Meryl knew this was not just dinner.
The restaurant was closed to the public. A handwritten sign on the door read Private Event, and beyond the glass, she could see that the tables had been pushed together into one long arrangement, set with candles, flowers, and enough place settings to make her stomach drop.
“Spencer,” she said under her breath, tightening her hold on the wrapped frame. “You did not say this was a private family dinner.”
He glanced down at her, looking faintly apologetic but not especially sorry. “Would you have come if I had?”
Meryl opened her mouth, then closed it again.
That was answer enough.
“Right,” she muttered. “Well. Excellent. Too late now.”
Warmth met them as soon as they stepped inside. Not just the heat from the restaurant, but the warmth of voices and laughter.
Meryl felt oddly out of place, as if she had stepped into a foreign land. She’d grown up with just her mom as family, so this was almost alien to her.
Then a woman’s voice called out, “Spencer.”
“Mom.” Spencer’s expression showed Meryl just how much he loved his mom. And that helped, especially when Eleanor Thornberg came toward them with the kind of smile that made it impossible to mistake the sincerity of it.
“Happy birthday.” Spencer bent to hug her.
“Thank you, son. And you must be Meryl,” Eleanor said, turning to her with unmistakable pleasure. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Happy birthday. Thank you for inviting me,” Meryl said, offering her the gift before she could lose her nerve. “I made you something. I hope that’s all right.”
“You made me something?” Eleanor took the parcel with immediate interest. “That is more than all right.”
“It’s only small,” Meryl said, already regretting the phrase.
Eleanor unwrapped it carefully, and when she saw the framed illustration, her whole face changed. It was a botanical study of mountain wildflowers, done in soft watercolor and ink. Nothing grand. But it was personal. The first piece she had created at Pine Cottage.
“Oh,” Eleanor whispered. “This is lovely.”
She lifted it slightly, studying the details properly rather than glancing and thanking her out of politeness. “These are the flowers up near Hilda’s place, aren’t they?”
Meryl nodded. “Some of them. I thought you might recognize them. Spencer says you grow a lot of flowers.”
“I do.” Eleanor looked up at her, visibly touched. “It’s perfect. Thank you. This is going in my reading corner, where I can see it every day.”
The tight little knot of anxiety inside Meryl loosened.
“Come along,” Eleanor said, slipping her hand lightly through Meryl’s arm with the kind of ease that made refusal impossible. “You’ve got everyone waiting to meet you.”
Spencer stayed close enough behind that Meryl could feel him there without needing to check.
Introductions came in a small rush, but not so fast that she lost herself completely. Kirk and Isla were first, while Isla’s son Percy hovered nearby with the restless energy of a child trying very hard to behave and not quite succeeding.
