Page 49 of Take This Heart (Windy Harbor #1)

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE

GOLDIE

It’s the night before Thanksgiving and we’re at The Kitty-Corner Cafe after hours. The kitchen smells like cinnamon and sage and it’s messier than Juju allows it during the cafe’s business hours. I’m proud of her for not washing up behind us every two seconds.

Juju’s got three timers going and keeps swatting Erin away from the pumpkin and apple pies. Erin is wearing a purple apron with glittery lettering that says Stuff Me, and she’s singing Nicki Minaj songs into a whisk like it’s a microphone.

Ava’s standing near the counter with broccoli, rice, and the cans of cream of mushroom soup. Her sleeves are rolled up, and she’s watching us like she’s not certain how she ended up here.

I catch her eye and smile. “You good?”

She nods, grinning. “Yeah. There’s a lot of…energy in here.”

I laugh, tossing a peeled apple slice into my mouth. “You’re not wrong.”

Erin points at Ava. “I’m so excited you’re making broccoli rice hotdish.”

Ava’s brow furrows. “I thought this would just be a casserole.”

Erin waves her off. “Technically, yeah, but around here, you can just go with hotdish.”

“Got it.”

“You didn’t have hotdish in Seattle?” Juju asks, eyes twinkling.

“No. Never heard of it until I came here,” she says.

Erin puts her arm around Ava’s shoulder. “You’ll catch the lingo in no time.”

Ava laughs and her shoulders relax a little.

We talk about recipes and favorite kitchen disasters.

“I once lit a ham on fire,” I say.

“How?” Ava asks.

“Your house smelled for a while after that.” Juju nods.

“There was rum involved,” I say, wincing.

“Dylan tried to put it out with pop, which wasn’t a great idea.”

“Boys are useless in a crisis,” Erin says.

Juju lifts her glass of wine. “To women and ventilated kitchens.”

We clink glasses and burst into another round of laughter.

Erin and Juju launch into gossip about the love letters Miss Idella has been getting.

“Who are they from?” I ask.

“She doesn’t know,” Juju says. “She gets them and brings them here, I think hoping someone will confess, but no one has.”

“Miss Idella wants to get some,” Erin sings into the whisk.

That cracks us up.

“Sorry,” Ava says, laughing hard, “but I’m imagining that little old lady who owns The Rusty Trunk!”

“That’s her!” I say.

“Oh, that makes it so much better,” she says, wiping her eyes.

My chest warms at how comfortable it feels with her here. My sister, my best friends, all of us crowded in this messy, warm kitchen with flour on our clothes, and slugging back the wine. It’s perfect.

The next morning, the house is still. The holiday chaos will be at the restaurant later.

We’ve opened it for anyone who doesn’t want to be alone or for those who just don’t want to cook.

But for now, it’s just me and my grandmas.

And Kevin. He snuck out of Dad’s room to get some ear scratches when he heard the commotion in the kitchen.

When I got back from the cafe last night, the boys were playing a game of cards that went late and they’re still sleeping.

The coffee’s hot, the cinnamon rolls are in the oven, and I’m curled up at the table in thick socks and one of Milo’s flannels.

Grandma Donna’s at the kitchen table next to me with her crossword. Grandma Nancy comes and sits on the other side of me, stirring creamer into her coffee.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” I say.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” they repeat back.

We sit quietly for a while and then Grandma Donna lowers her pencil and looks at me. “Goldie, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She leans in slightly. “That new bench Milo bought for you…out by the pavilion? Would it be all right if I used that bench?”

“Sure! You don’t have to ask, Grandma.”

“Well,” she hesitates. “I saw something on the news and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’d kind of like to have one here. A friendship bench. People come sit on it if they need to talk.”

I blink. “A friendship bench?”

She nods. “I think I’d like to be the one who listens.”

My heart catches.

“I’d be a little too inclined to offer my opinions,” Grandma Nancy cuts in. “But you’d be perfect for it, Donna.”

Donna chuckles. “Well, I do have plenty of opinions too. But sometimes people just need someone to hear their story. To be heard.”

I put my hand over hers. “I love this idea, Grandma. And I think you’re just the person to do it. That bench is yours. We’ll have to spread the word around town.”

Her eyes get a little glassy, and she gives my hand a squeeze. “Thank you, sweetheart. It’s been on my heart lately. I’d like to give something back. I’m old, but I can sit and listen.”

“You’re invaluable and cherished is what you are,” I tell her. “I think this is such a beautiful idea.”

Outside the wind stirs, and the water crashes against the rocks. I picture my grandma sitting on that bench, a blanket across her knees, and a gentle smile for anyone who might need one. Her quiet generosity could be exactly what someone needs.

The day already feels special.

The outside of the resort is complete, and every time I see it, I’m blown away.

Inside, there’s still a lot to do, but so much progress has been made.

It’s hard to believe it’ll all be finished in a few months.

The pavilion has twinkle lights strung around it and the lights shimmer in the late afternoon light.

It’s cold enough for coats, but since we’re only outside for a few minutes before walking into the restaurant, none of us are wearing them.

It’s been a weird winter. We’ve barely gotten any snow. A foot the day before Halloween, which sucked royally for Grayson trick-or-treating, but it did not deter him in the slightest. It had thawed by the weekend and hasn’t snowed since.

I wanted to decorate the restaurant for Christmas. Garland, wreaths, a massive tree, maybe even two…but Camden is a holiday purist.

“Not until the day after Thanksgiving,” he insisted.

I don’t know why he had to crush my Christmas dreams, but anyway.

He’s lucky I adore him.

And I will have my way tomorrow. Free rein.

It’s a motley crew of my family and friends, and a few new people in town that I don’t know well but will after sharing Thanksgiving together.

There’s barely room to set down a napkin with all the food spread on the table.

Everyone’s talking over each other, reaching for the sweet potatoes, the clatter of forks, and laughter, a lot of laughter.

Kevin is sitting at attention near Grayson’s feet, and I suspect he’s getting a variety of everything Grayson doesn’t want to eat.

“I’ve eaten three rolls and I’m still getting dessert!” Grayson announces.

Under the table, Milo’s hand rests on my knee. His eyes find mine through all the noise and settle there.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Golo,” he says, leaning in to kiss me.

“To you too, Mildie.”

“I’m excited for what’s ahead.” He leans his forehead against mine. “A life with you. Our wedding—let’s decide on a date, please.”

I nod rapidly in agreement.

“A new house we’re going to build together, and our fun, loving—”

Someone guffaws so loudly, we both jump.

“Loud,” he continues, and we both laugh, “families.”

“All the best things I can imagine,” I tell him.

“You’re the best thing,” he says.

I kiss him, slow and sweet, and soak up this moment.

“Had I known when we met that we’d end up here, I would’ve kissed you so much sooner,” I say.

He laughs. “Like when we first laid eyes on each other and you thought me and my work were a travesty?”

I grin. “Absolutely. Oh, wait. We kind of did kiss right away, didn’t we?”

He laughs. “I’m just glad you kissed me again. Because the second I met you, you took my heart and turned it into mush.”

“Infuriating mush, but that’s beside the point.”

“Bring that sassy mouth over here and let me kiss you.”

I’m smiling as our lips touch, my heart more content than I thought possible.