Chapter 24
Alex
We take the hotel elevator down at five in the morning like two people who've committed a crime and are too far in to turn back now.
I'm visiting Dark River today while Jean-Pierre has other business meetings scheduled in Seattle, and I'm taking Isabelle with me for the night, a fact her father absolutely cannot know about.
She told him she was flying back to Napa for the night to check on some supply issues at the pop-up and would return to Seattle in the afternoon for our final walk-through meeting. She even bought a plane ticket to sell the lie, creating a paper trail in case he checks.
I was genuinely impressed and a tiny bit terrified by her thoroughness. She called Margot from the hotel room last night to instruct her to cover if Jean-Pierre somehow calls Solstice asking questions. Margot, thankfully, thought the whole thing was hilarious and romantic and promised to help out.
And so we're off, free to just be ourselves. Finally. Isabelle is dressed casually in dark jeans and white sneakers and a cream-colored cable-knit sweater that makes her look soft and cozy, her hair pulled back in a low bun at the nape of her neck.
I'm in a black hoodie and jeans and wearing a smile that I can't seem to get off my face, because in a few hours I'm going to show the woman I love my hometown and introduce her to my family.
We make our way through the lobby, which is still mostly empty at this hour except for a few business travelers checking out early and one tired-looking concierge behind the desk.
We get to the rental car I picked up yesterday—a comfortable Subaru with room for both our bags and the drive ahead.
I load her luggage in the back next to mine and we both climb in, the early morning air cool and crisp.
"What's the drive like?" she asks, buckling her seatbelt and settling into the passenger seat.
"Two or three hours through some of the most beautiful landscape on the planet," I say, pulling away from the hotel and navigating onto the main road. "Old-growth forest, some water views in certain spots, mountains in the distance. The Pacific Northwest in all its glory."
She smiles, looking out the window as the city starts to wake up around us, early morning light hitting the buildings. "I can't wait to see where you grew up and meet everyone, and see Harbor & Ash especially."
We're both giddy and in love and running on about four hours of sleep after last night, feeling like our whole future is spread out in front of us full of possibility and promise, like anything could happen and it will all work out somehow.
I reach over and take her hand, lacing our fingers together on the center console, and she brings our joined hands to her lips and kisses my knuckles. The gesture makes my chest feel too full, too tight with feeling.
"Tell me about Dark River before we get there," she says. "What am I walking into?"
I think about how to describe it, this place that shaped me.
"It's a pretty small town. One main street running along the harbor, some nice beaches.
There's this stretch along the water with shops and restaurants and a bookstores.
A lot of Victorian architecture. The house I grew up in is actually a big old Victorian right on the water.
My brother Calvin lives there now with his wife, Maren, and their baby. "
"Wow, your very own Practical Magic house," she says, clearly delighted by this information.
I grin at her. "Hey, I told you I had a thing for witches after watching that movie. Practical Magic and growing up in a creaky Victorian probably did it to me early."
She bursts into giggles. "Well, instead of a blindfold next time I'll bring out a witch's hat. How about that?"
I glance over at her, amused. "You jest but I would be extremely into that, actually."
"Oh?" She's fully teasing me now, her eyes dancing. "Well then, if you're very good, maybe you'll get a whole magical evening complete with spells and potions."
"Is that a promise or a threat?" I ask.
"Both," she says, grinning wickedly. "Definitely both."
She settles back in her seat, tucking one leg underneath her. "So what's the actual plan for today? Drive through Dark River, explore a bit, hit a beach, then dinner with your family at Harbor & Ash? And then back to your apartment for the night?"
I nod. "Yep, that's the plan. We'll head to the restaurant around six for dinner. It’ll be fun—my brothers and their wives are all really great people. They're going to love you."
"I hope so. I really want to make a good impression," she says.
I glance over at her as we merge onto the highway heading toward the coast. "You're so likable and funny that I think it's impossible for you not to make a good first impression. They're probably going to love you more than they love me by the end of the night."
We spend the entire day exploring Dark River, savoring every moment of being able to just be together openly. We start off at Sweet Haven Bakery where we get cinnamon rolls the size of our heads and the best coffee in town, sitting at one of the small tables by the window.
Isabelle declares the town like a movie set with all the Victorian storefronts painted in cheerful colors, the hanging flower baskets, and the harbor visible at the end of the street, boats bobbing gently in the gray-blue water under the overcast sky.
"I mean it’s absurdly charming," she says, tearing off a piece of cinnamon roll that's still warm and practically dripping with icing. "Like someone designed it specifically to make people want to move here and open a bookshop."
"Wait until you see the actual bookshop," I say.
We walk through downtown hand in hand, me pointing out landmarks. The hardware store that's been there since 1892, the ice cream shop where I had my first job at fifteen, the corner where Jack broke his arm trying to skateboard down the hill.
Eventually we make our way to a beach with driftwood logs scattered across dark sand and waves that crash cold and relentless against the shore, white foam hissing over the wet packed sand.
The leaves are turning orange and yellow but everything is still damp and lush, moss covering every surface like green velvet, ferns growing wild along the edges of the forest that comes right up to the sand.
We walk the beach for over an hour, our boots crunching on shells and stones, then sit on one of the massive driftwood logs bleached silver by sun and salt and watch the waves, talking about everything and nothing.
Eventually we make our way back to town and run into more people.
It's impossible not to in a town this small, where everyone knows everyone and stopping to chat on the sidewalk is just what you do.
Marjorie from the post office who's absolutely delighted to see me and even more delighted that I have a woman with me, her eyes lighting up with gossip-radar.
Eleanor at the bookshop, whip-smart as ever at seventy-something and interested to hear about my Napa experience and the plans for Seattle.
Then we head to Calvin and Maren's house.
We spend an hour there. Baby Henry is awake now, propped up on Calvin's lap, making those squeaky baby sounds and grabbing at Calvin's shirt with tiny fists.
He has Calvin's dark hair and Maren's blue eyes, and watching my serious, bookish brother make exaggerated faces to get the baby to smile is one of the best things I've seen in months.
Laila, the golden retriever, immediately decides Isabelle is her new favorite person, following her from room to room with her tail wagging so hard her whole back end moves, eventually just collapsing across Isabelle's feet when we sit down on the porch.
"I think you've been adopted," Maren laughs, handing Isabelle a mug of tea.
"I'm okay with this," Isabelle says happily, reaching down to scratch behind Laila's ears, and the dog's eyes close in bliss.
Calvin and Maren take to Isabelle immediately—Maren especially, the two of them bonding over cooking and restaurants and the challenges of working in male-dominated kitchens.
We all sit on the porch with tea, wrapped in blankets because it's cool but not raining yet, just talking and laughing while Laila sprawls across Isabelle's feet like she's known her forever.
The sunny breaks of the day disappear as afternoon turns to evening, rain rolling in with that characteristic Pacific Northwest drizzle. We say our goodbyes and make our way to my restaurant.
It comes into view as we round the corner. The modern building with its wall of windows, nestled perfectly against the harbor with fishing boats bobbing out on the water, the restaurant's warm lighting glowing against the gray drizzly evening.
"Wow," Isabelle says, pressed up against the passenger window before we even get out of the car. "It looks even better than the photos you showed me."
I smile, feeling that familiar surge of pride and love for this place. "Thanks. We're really happy with how it turned out. God, I missed it. It's like my baby, you know? My first real restaurant."
She smiles at me. "Having second thoughts about opening a whole new place in Seattle? About leaving this behind?"
I shake my head firmly. "No, if anything the talks with your dad and the time in Napa only confirmed it for me.
I'm ready for Seattle, ready for that next step.
But this place will always be my first love.
And I don't think I'll ever not be involved in some capacity.
I mean, I think Theo and I texted almost every day while I was gone, and I handled half the supplier issues and menu changes remotely from Napa. It's impossible not to stay connected."
"Well, it's stunning, Alex. Really. It looks so warm and inviting."
I pull into a parking spot and turn off the engine. "Ready to meet everyone?"
She takes a deep breath and smiles. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually am. Let's do this."