Chapter 17 #4
“Call me Claire, sweetheart. And I’m glad you like it. When Grayson said you were coming, I wanted to make something special. This casserole has been his favorite since he was in elementary school.”
“It was my birthday dinner request every single year,” Grayson added.
Wren laughed. “My birthday dinner request was always McDonald’s,” she joked. “I’m afraid I get my cooking skills—or lack thereof—from my mom, who prefers to spend the majority of her time in the backyard feeding the birds.”
“Well, you’ll have to tell me when your birthday is and I’ll make this for you so you don’t have to suffer through another Big Mac,” Claire said, feigning a shudder.
“Where are Edith and Manny?” Remi asked, after glancing around the table. Wren recalled Grayson saying her lovely landlady and nephew were regulars at Sunday dinner.
“Edith has a bit of a head cold, and she refused to come here and ‘contaminate’ the rest of us,” Claire replied, finger-quoting the word.
“Manny stopped by earlier for a quart of my chicken noodle soup,” Mila added. “I swear he fusses over Edith as much as she does him.”
Wren grinned, agreeing that Edith Millholland and Manny had one of the most wonderful relationships she’d ever seen.
The dinner conversation remained entertaining, with Sam and Levi continuing to fight good-naturedly about the arm-wrestling competition.
Sam was demanding a rematch after dinner, when he would have the time needed to properly trounce his brother.
Just as Mila said, he complained that he’d been distracted by the smell of the casserole.
From there, talk turned to business concerns.
Stormy Weather Farm was host to quite a few businesses, including the winery, the brewery, the B&B, the rental cabins, and the event barn.
Wren was exhausted just thinking about it all, but as they spoke, it became clear that despite each family member having their own roles, everyone supported everyone else.
It was lovely, and Wren was starting to understand just why Lark loved working here so much.
Things took a turn around dessert, when Maverick and Ella began discussing their upcoming nuptials. As they shared the details concerning the ceremony, Wren couldn’t help but study the other couples at the table.
Levi sat close to Kasi, his hand resting on her tiny baby bump as she leaned against her husband, glancing at him occasionally with adoring eyes, the two so into each other that it was as if they were the only people at the table.
And Wren wasn’t the only one who noticed. Mila was watching them…though Wren was certain the woman wasn’t aware she was slowly rubbing her stomach. Then Mila and Boone shared a glance, and he gave her a quick wink that made Wren suspect Kasi wasn’t the only pregnant Storm at the table.
From there, her gaze traveled to Gretchen and Theo. His arm rested on the back of Gretchen’s chair, fingers toying with her long hair. Every now and then, he bent toward her, kissing the top of her head, as if he couldn’t last five minutes without doing so.
It was all so beautiful and perfect and…overwhelming.
When the women first told her about the legend, Wren had been amused, telling herself it was a nice story, something that would be great in a romantic comedy book or movie. But as they had continued talking at the book club, she’d become a believer.
So much so that she’d been low-key freaking out these past three days.
Because she had felt it—the magic—that very first night at the festival when Grayson held her, but she wasn’t sure he had.
He hadn’t mentioned the legend at all, so she had managed to convince herself that this thing between them wasn’t the storybook legend.
For all she knew, thanks to her lack of dating experience, what she was feeling was nothing more than a massive crush.
Regardless, Wren wanted what they had, desperately, but after struggling for normalcy for so long, she’d lost faith in herself. Suddenly, she was inundated by a strong sense of sadness.
Which, of course, Grayson noticed.
“You okay?” he whispered in her ear, as the rest of the men rose and started clearing the table.
She nodded. But Grayson wasn’t fooled.
“Come with me,” he said, rising from the table and offering his hand. “I want to show you something.”
When he started heading toward the front door, she pulled up short. “Shouldn’t we help clean up?”
Grayson raised one eyebrow. “There are so many people in that kitchen right now, it looks like a clown car. We’d only be in the way.”
“Yes, but I should thank your mom for—”
“Attempting an Irish goodbye again, Grayson?” Claire asked, following them to the front foyer.
“This one is always sneaking out,” she said, though it was apparent she didn’t mind Grayson’s abrupt escapes.
“Never been one for lots of noise or crowded rooms, which is why he always comes early and helps me prep dinner and sets the table before everyone else arrives. Then he sneaks away, because if he didn’t, the rest would cajole him into staying. ”
“I prefer the first shift,” he joked.
“Thank you so much for dinner, Mrs. St—err, Claire.” She and Claire took each other’s hands, Grayson’s mother squeezing hers affectionately.
“I hope you’ll come back next week,” she said. “And every week after.”
Grayson chuckled. “Subtle, Mom. Real subtle.”
Claire waved him away. “Go on, you two. Have fun. Show her,” she then said to Grayson, somewhat mysteriously.
Grayson looped his arm around her waist and guided her back outside, toward his truck.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see.”