“Of course, Diane.”
She was already moving.
She waved a cousin toward the living room, ordered a nephew to move the centerpiece off the console table, and clapped her hands at a small huddle of teenagers.
“Come, come, let me show you the upstairs. Madison redecorated the guest room, though I told her the beige was a mistake.”
I let her.
Harley caught my eye from across the room.
His forehead was creased in that small, worried way it got when something didn’t add up.
I gave him a soft smile and turned back to the kitchen.
Ryan slipped in behind me, pretending to look for a bottle opener.
“You good?” he murmured.
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
I glanced at my watch. “Ten more minutes.”
He nodded once, poured himself a glass of water, and drifted back toward the living room like nothing had passed between us.
I slid my phone from my apron pocket.
I had one new message.
It read, “Private room ready whenever you are. Reservation held till noon.”
I took a slow breath and smoothed the front of my apron.
Diane sailed back into the kitchen, cheeks flushed with performance.
“Madison, honey, where are the extra chairs? I told your uncle Ron he could sit at the head of the table, but I don’t see enough seating for everyone.”
