Epilogue
LIA: FIVE MONTHS LATER
Autumn arrives in Honeysuckle Grove like a promise kept.
The vineyard glows gold beneath the morning sun.
Leaves have started to turn, painting the hills in shades of amber, rust, and deep, burning red.
The air is crisp in a way that makes every breath feel clean, like the world itself has scrubbed itself with a sponge inside and out.
It feels steady and sure, like the breeze that ruffles my hair as I traipse down the hallway of the main vineyard building, heading to the kitchen.
My kitchen.
I smooth my hands down the front of my apron as I step into the commercial kitchen Walker once allowed me to use out of the goodness of his heart.
It’s become my bakery’s kitchen, and my boots echoing softly against the polished floor.
The clean stainless steel counters gleam under the overhead lights.
The new walk-in fridge hums. The scent of sugar and butter lingers in the air like it belongs here.
Like I belong here.
Above the doorway behind me, carved into dark wood and mounted with care, is the crest Walker had commissioned months ago for our pack.
The crest itself is carved into a traditional framework, with a rounded top and a pointed bottom.
All of our first initials—W, K, E, and L—are intertwined and decorated with grape vines and blossoms. And beneath it, etched in elegant script, is the name of my bakery:
Milk we’d also be setting them up and things before the reception. That definitely earns a fifty-fifty commission split.”
My mind starts turning. What a wonderful offer this is. More baking volume means more exposure. And more exposure comes with more financial stability in the long run. That means growth for my bakery.
Which means I could finally offload my freelance clients and make more room in my schedule for other things I want to do.
“I’d want to go over the numbers with Walker,” I say carefully. “Make sure everything’s fair on both sides.”
“Of course,” Tansy says with a nod of her head. “We’ll draw up something official. Contracts, paperwork, the whole nine.”
“I’ve got a lawyer we can get on the phone tonight,” Walker says. “He can help draft something up, and we can go back and forth until the language is right.”
“Sounds fine to me,” Tansy says.
I smile as I extend my hand. “So, we have a deal? For now?”
Tansy grins and shakes my head. “For now. We’ll bat the details back and forth here over the next couple of weeks.”
We shake, and something shifts into place. Another piece of my future locked in. Tansy goes from shaking my hand to pulling me into a hug, and I lean into it. After all, she’s the one who gave me a chance to prove that I’m somebody in a kitchen.
I’ll never be able to thank her enough for it.