“Sounds fancy,” Mr. Hoffman answered.
A little bit of pride wriggled through her. But she quickly wiped it away.
“And he’s loaded,” Dad blurted around a mouthful of bread.
“Dad!” Isabella chided.
“Dear, wealthy or not, that’s not why she loves him.” Mom fluffed her dark brown bob.
Finn leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But I’m sure it doesn’t hurt.”
“Guys, c’mon, this is Izzy we’re talking about,” Norah said, finally coming to her sister’s rescue. “She doesn’t care about money. Besides, she writes forThe New Yorker, guys. Our girl is doing just fine on her own.”
Isabella’s eyes widened, and she almost choked on a potato.
Raising a high chin, Dad said, “She is. And we’re so proud of her.”
“It really is something, seeing both of your childhood dreams come to fruition.” Mr. Hoffman gestured his spoon in Leo’s direction. “Though I’d be lying if I said I was completely thrilled for Leo. I’d rather him come work for the family business.”
Isabella swung her attention from Mr. Hoffman to Leo, her pulse picking up. “Oh yeah? And which childhood dream is this?”
There was hockey, but wasn’t twenty-nine too old to just be starting out in the NHL? And she’d know if he’d gone pro. Then there was photography, but Norah had told her Leo put his camera equipment away after his mom passed.
“You’re joking, right?” Finn asked. “You haven’t noticed the canvases on the walls?”
Her breath caught, and a heaviness landed in her stomach. He’d done it. Leo really had become a photographer? But why had he been so vague about his job the day before? When they were kids, she always encouraged him to follow his dreams and make a go at photography as a career. She’d been heartbroken when she heard he’d stopped completely.
Leo shifted in his seat, tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt where his Adam’s apple bobbed hard.
“You did it,” she said, her voice soft and shaky.
Leo averted his eyes. “I did. Right now I have a studio in my home. But I’d like to open my own place one day.”
“You should show her your studio, son.” Mr. Hoffman said, tossing his napkin on his plate before sliding out his chair.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Leo scratched at his neck.
“Maybe we can squeeze it in sometime this week, Izz?” Norah said, standing.
Leo gave Isabella a sideways glance. “I’m sure Izzy has more important things to do. Wedding prep and all.”
“I’ll make space on my calendar,” Isabella said with a half-smile. “I’d love to see your studio.”
“It’s settled then.” Norah beamed.
Dad pushed up from his chair and stacked a few empty bowls. “But only if we have time. We’re on a strict schedule this week. More than usual, what with the wedding festivities.”
“Don’t worry honey, everyone knows how important the Eight Days of Christmas schedule is to you,” Mom teased, pressing a kiss to Dad’s cheek.
“It’s been a nice evening, but I better be getting home. Work comes early,” Mr. Hoffman said. “Too bad I’m not a Whitley, or I’d have an excuse to take a week’s vacation like the rest of y’all.”
“It also helps when you work for the school district and you’re already on break.” Dad winked.
“Well, Howard, you know you’re always welcome.” Mom gave him a pat on the back. “Let me walk you out.”
“Goodnight everyone,” Mr. Hoffman called.
“Goodnight,” Isabella joined in with the others. “I’ll clean up in here, you all go on and relax.”
