Epilogue
Nate
If there’s one thing I’ve learned since taking over the Pennywhistle Pantry, it’s that nothing truly important in this town happens without two things: coffee and meddling grandmothers.
I was wiping down the front counter after the lunch rush—Nancy had already kicked me out of the kitchen for helping—when the bell over the door chimed, and Grandma walked in with Mabel at her side, both of them bundled in scarves and looking far too pleased with themselves.
That was my first clue.
They slid into a booth like they owned it. Which, to be fair, as Honeybrook Hollow royalty, they sort of did.
“Time for lunch,” Grandma announced. “We’re starving.”
Nancy appeared like she’d been summoned by destiny. “The usual?”
“Yes, please,” Mabel answered.
I poured coffee and brought it over, setting the mugs down carefully. “So,” I said, already suspicious. “What’s the occasion?”
They exchanged a look. A long one.
The kind that should come with a warning label.
“Well,” Mabel said, stirring cream into her coffee, “we thought it might be time for a little confession. Eliza knows some, you do too. But it’s time to lay it all out there.”
My shoulders tensed. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Oh, hush,” Grandma said. “You love a good story.”
“Actually, I do not,” I said flatly. “This one feels like it’s going to be a big one.”
Mabel leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Do you remember, Nate, how you just happened to come through the Coffee Cabin every morning when you moved to town?”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “I remember falling in love with Eliza over a takeout cup and an outdoor counter.”
“And do you remember,” Grandma added, “how Eliza just happened to be working those mornings all by herself?”
“I made sure she was alone,” Mabel said. “And I very graciously kept myself out of the way. Which, for the record, was not easy.”
My stomach dropped as I stared at them. “You didn’t.”
They both smiled.
They actually smiled and they were smug.
“I may have told her I had a little cold,” Mabel said smugly. “I needed my rest, isn’t that right?”
“Absolutely, you did.” Grandma winked. “And let’s not forget about the cocoa,” she added.
“I told Tilly to ask for it. Told her it was the best cocoa in the entire world, and it was made by the prettiest Christmas coffee elf who ever lived. Children can be very persuasive when given the right motivation.”
“You used my kid,” I said, horrified.
“She was delighted to help,” Grandma said proudly. “She loves Eliza, just like I knew she would.”
“I love Eliza,” Mabel said. “Very much. And she needed someone good. Someone kind. Someone who would make her feel like she deserves to feel.”
“And you,” Grandma said, softening, “needed someone who would choose you, and Tilly. We knew the two of you were perfect for each other.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it again.
“You’re unbelievable,” I said finally.
“And yet,” Mabel said, lifting her mug, “here you are, happy as you could possibly be…”
Before I could respond, the bell over the door chimed again.
I didn’t have to turn around to know it was her.
But I did anyway.
Eliza stood just inside the diner, sunlight catching in her hair, one hand tucked into the pocket of my jacket—my jacket. I loved seeing her in things that were mine. I just loved her.
She smiled when she saw me, that easy, knowing smile that still knocked the breath out of me. “There you are,” she said. “I was looking for my fiancé.”
My heart did the thing it always did now—stumbled, then settled.
“Fiancé,” Grandma repeated brightly. “Don’t you love the sound of that?”
Yes, in fact, I did.
Eliza slid into the booth beside Mabel, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “What are you two up to?”
“Confessing,” I muttered as I slid in across from her.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh no.”
Mabel patted her hand. “We were just explaining how very patient we were with the two of you.”
Eliza looked between them, then at me. “Patient?”
I sighed. “They orchestrated our entire meeting.”
She blinked once in shock. Then she laughed. Really laughed—head tipping back, hand coming to rest on my arm.
“Oh, I know they did,” she said. “I knew you didn’t just accidentally show up every morning like a lost little puppy.”
“I resent that,” I said. “Dogs are very dignified.”
She grinned at me. “You absolutely are not.”
Grandma beamed. “See? Perfect match.”
Eliza squeezed my hand under the table. “Well,” she said, eyes warm, “I guess I should thank you both.”
“We accept baked goods,” Mabel said immediately. “And now that you’re cooking again, something fancy will do.”
“And wedding invitations,” Grandma added. “Front row.”
“Deal,” Eliza said.
I looked at her—really looked at her—here in the diner that had raised me, surrounded by the women who’d loved us into being brave enough to choose each other.
“Worth it,” I said quietly. “All of it.”
Eliza smiled at me like she knew exactly what I meant and agreed wholeheartedly.
And for once, Honeybrook Hollow had nothing left to add. It had already given us everything.