“Everything okay?” Cade asked, coming in for a hug.
“Yes,” she lied. Cade pulled back and looked into her eyes.
“You’re worried.”
“I am,” she admitted with a sigh. “I was just working on the budget.”
He nodded as his hands ran up and down her arms. “Is there anything I can help with?”
She shook her head and felt her heart swell at his offer. “Not unless you have a tens of thousands of dollars lying around.”
He chuckled as he patted his wallet. “Not especially.”
“I didn’t think so.” She sighed. “We’ll make do.”
“You’ll get through this. Soon enough, the doors will be open, and people will be flooding in to spend their money. Just wait and see.”
“I know, it’s just… I know,” she agreed. “Dinner,” she reminded him. “I skipped lunch.”
He frowned as a worried look flooded his eyes. “Again?”
After locking up her office, they strolled down the hallway hand in hand. Instead of walking into the bar area, he tugged on her hand and pulled her towards the plywood wall separating the dining area from the lobby.
“Cade, it’s not ready yet,” she said, remembering the last time she’d snuck behind the walls to get a look.
“Dave called me earlier today.” He motioned as he opened the door.
She stepped in and her breath sucked in with the surprise of seeing the work was completed. Then she noticed a single round table sitting in the middle of the room. The crisp white tablecloth, fine china, and lit candles added to the beauty of the room, as did the massive chandelier she’d purchased.
The wood slat boards that had replaced the old ceiling not only were classy but warmed up the entire room. She couldn’t get over how new the large wood beams looked after some sanding and fresh stain.
“This all looks…” She felt her eyes sting as a memory of standing in this very spot with her parents over ten years ago surfaced.
“Mom, I don’t want a big party for my birthday,” she’d complained with the fervor of a seventeen-year-old girl. She might have even stomped her foot at one point.
“Honey, every seventeen-year-old girl deserves a party,” her mother had said eagerly. “Besides, I’ve thrown you a birthday party every year of your life.” Her mother’s tone dropped as it always did when the discussion was over. “And I have no intention of stopping now.”
All Raven had wanted that year was to be left alone. Maybe a quiet night with Reggie and her friends. She’d attended a few of her friend’s birthday parties earlier that year and, to be honest, didn’t care to host one herself.
The last party she and her friends had gone to had been a complete disaster. Heather’s parents were some of the richest in town, and they had gone all out for her seventeenth birthday party last month.
That hadn’t stopped Heather from complaining all the way through it or her friends from making fun of her for weeks after, all because her mother had decorated everything in pink, as if Heather were still a little girl instead of a seventeen-year-old.
“Dad, talk to Mom.” She’d rushed over to her father, who had been directing some waitstaff.
“About what sweetie?” Her father barely spared her a glance.
“My party,” she’d whined.
“Don’t worry, your mom says she has everything under control.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t want a party,” she’d reiterated.
“Honey, I’m working.” Her father had waved her away. “Go talk to your mother.”
“I did. Daddy.” At this point she was positive that she had stomped her foot.
“Raven.” He’d finally looked at her. “Go. Now.” The tone of his voice had assured her that he was done playing around. So, she’d left.
That was one of the last memories she had of her parents.
“Hey.” Cade pulled her into his arms. “What’s wrong?”
Shaking her head, she took a deep breath. “It’s nothing. I was just remembering my parents. They would have loved all this.” She motioned around them.
“They’d be proud of you,” he told her. “Now, I called ahead and had Tim make us something special.” He dropped his arms from around her and walked over to pull out a chair for her.
“I’m underdressed.” She motioned to her grey slacks and black blouse.
He smiled. “You look perfect.” He leaned in and kissed her before she sat down.
As if by magic, two of her waitstaff appeared out of thin air and poured them each a glass of water and then wine.
“I heard my uncle took my mother into Redding for dinner tonight,” Cade said right as she took a sip of her wine, “I hope he wasn’t planning anything… special.”
She couldn’t help it; he’d spoken right as she’d taken a sip of wine. For the next minute, she coughed and choked on air while Cade gently slapped her on the back.
“You okay?” he asked when she could finally breath.
“You did that on purpose,” she accused him. His guilty grin was the only reply she needed. “How did you know?” she asked.
“My uncle has been acting strange for a while now.” He took his own sip of wine.
“And what? You figured he was going to propose to your mother because of it?” she asked.
It was his turn to choke on the wine. Now it was her turn to slap his back until he could breathe.
“Jesus, who said anything about proposing? I was thinking they were…” He shook his head and took a deep breath.
“What?” she asked as she sat back down.
“Moving in together,” he admitted with a slight shrug.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A burnt child dreads the fire ~ English proverb
For the rest of the dinner, he tried to get his mind off of his mother and uncle getting hitched.
Tim had outdone himself this time with the meal of beef Wellington, fresh honey-glazed carrots, and new potatoes. He’d always enjoyed the guy’s meals, but this time, he was seriously thinking about ordering seconds.
Raven leaned across the table and lowered her voice.
“Do you think it would reflect badly on me if I ordered this meal every day for the rest of my life?” she asked.
He chuckled. “God, I was thinking the same thing. How fat would we get if we ate dinner here every night?”
“Okay, so we’re in agreement. This”—she motioned to her empty plate— “goes on the menu.”
“For sure.” He nodded. “I can’t wait to see what’s for dessert.”
The Baileys and coffee cheesecake was some of the best he’d ever had. Not that he was a big cheesecake fan. His mother tried each year to get him excited about her fresh blueberry cheesecake, but he just couldn’t get behind it as a dessert. He rather enjoyed anything with chocolate instead, which this cheesecake had plenty of.
“If my mother made this kind of cheesecake”—he pointed with his fork— “I would have been a much heavier kid.”