Chapter 16
Thanksgiving passed quickly, and Boone’s friends and family went home.
Demarien found himself missing them, except maybe Lynda and Perry.
However, he was easily distracted when the first Sunday brunch arrived.
He danced in place in the warm kitchen as rain ticked softly against the windows over the sink, making the world outside look blurred and watercolor-soft.
Inside, though, everything glowed gold. Copper pans hung above the stove.
A chipped blue kettle hissed quietly on the back burner.
The newly restored island in the center of the room was dusted with flour from earlier experiments that Demarien hadn’t bothered to clean up.
Bacon crackled in a cast-iron skillet while butter melted slowly in another pan, carrying the smell of garlic and herbs through the room. He wore comfortable shoes, a faded thermal shirt, and loose jeans, one sleeve shoved up to his elbow as he whisked eggs in a ceramic bowl.
“Okay,” he muttered to himself, glancing toward the stove. “You’re all on different timelines, but I’ll make this work.”
From the adjoining sitting room came a sleepy voice. “Who are you talking to?”
Demarien looked over his shoulder, smiling immediately. “Mostly the mushrooms.”
Haley appeared in the doorway, dressed nicely in black slacks and a white button-down shirt, her long brown hair neatly arranged in a braid. She leaned against the frame, blinking slowly.
Demarien danced to the corner and poured her a cup of coffee, dressing it just how she liked it. He twirled across the room and handed it to her.
“Why are you so adorable?” she asked quietly, sipping her coffee. “Oh, don’t answer that. I know you were born that way.”
“Today is our first brunch,” he said excitedly. “Did you see all the cars outside? Half the town came.”
A half smile pulled at her lips. “What do you need me to do?”
“There’s still time for catastrophe, but I think I have it handled. Are the tables set?”
Haley stopped behind Demarien and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Both dining rooms are ready to go.”
Demarien grinned and wiggled in place. “Our first meal, Haley.”
“That’s a lot of eggs. Did you get competitive with eggs again?”
He laughed under his breath. “The eggs started it.”
She watched him fold the soft scrambled eggs slowly through the pan, careful and patient. Demarien cooked with total concentration and an odd amount of affection.
On the counter sat halved strawberries, fresh biscuits wrapped in a towel, and a bowl of batter waiting for the griddle.
“You made homemade biscuits, too?” Haley asked.
“Of course.” He gave her a sharp look. “What kind of cook do you take me for?”
“Apparently, a southern grandmother.” She laughed and went back to the door. “We open in five minutes. Do you want to greet your customers?”
Demarien squealed. “Yes! Will you watch the eggs?”
“Sure.”
“Coffee’s made. Orange juice is fresh-squeezed. Can’t serve liquor yet, so no cocktails to make.”
Haley snapped a towel at him. “Go.”
Demarien pouted, then hurried out the door, peeking in at the two dining areas first. Cozy tables with mismatched padded chairs were evenly spaced throughout each room, with fresh flowers in the middle of each.
The fireplaces in each room were roaring, warming the space while the rain pelted against the windows.
Milo stood at the front door, grinning. “Are you ready?”
Demarien nodded and took a big breath before opening the door.
Boone and Joe were the first to walk in, both men wearing proud smiles. Wilma-Jean and Sammie were next, then the women of the mystery book club that had been around longer than Demarien had been alive.
“Welcome to Myrtlewood Inn. I hope you brought your appetites.” He couldn’t stop his grin, even if he had wanted to.
“We certainly did.” Sammie wiped her eyes. “I’m so proud of you boys. This place has never looked better.”
“Can we get a tour after brunch?” One of the book club ladies asked. “We’d like to see the study.”
Milo’s smile flickered. “Of course, you do. I can guide you around.”
Joe hugged Demarien as more people gathered at the door. “Show us our seats, son. Gosh, this place looks good.”
Milo held out elegantly designed menus. “How many in your party?”
“Four.” Wilma-Jean grabbed Joe’s arm. “Let’s see how well your baby boy cooks.”
Demarien led them to the table closest to the kitchen. “Haley will be right with you. I have to get back to cooking.”
Boone grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a kiss. “Congratulations, sweetheart. Love you.”
“Love you too,” he whispered against Boone’s lips, kissing him one more time before running back to the kitchen.
Haley smirked and handed him his spatula before heading for the door. “Today is going to be a good day.”
Time flew by as Haley poured drinks and Demarien plated everything with perfect precision. Toast layered beside eggs. Crispy bacon. Herb-roasted potatoes. Strawberries bright against the muted colors of the kitchen.
The rain deepened outside, tapping harder now against the inn. Haley carried tray after tray of coffee and juice out to the tables, and more people arrived.
Milo ran inside the kitchen. “We are out of seating. I’m herding people to the sitting rooms. We have a waitlist, Damarien. A waitlist!”
“They came for the murder, but we’ll make them come back for the quiche,” he said, snickering.
“Damn, I have to go do a tour. I think I’m going to call Puck in. He’s not the best with people, but he can seat them in a pinch. Even if he’ll bitch about brunch the whole time.”
“I can seat people and get drink orders,” Boone said from the doorway. “That was delicious, sweetheart.” He moved and kissed the back of Demarien’s neck. “You made Sammie cry.”
“What?” he spun around, but Boone was already back at the door, grinning. “Gotta go host.”
Milo snickered. “I’m glad you got your man and all, but I’m really happy he’s so useful. It’s like you got an employee for all of us.”
“Don’t you let him overdo it. His leg still hurts if he’s on it all day.”
“Yes, sir.” Milo saluted and left.
Demarien had just turned back to the stove when Wilma-Jean and Sammie came in.
“Boy, that was the best quiche I’ve ever had,” Wilma-Jean started, rubbing her stomach.
“I’m proud of you, Demarien. Now I’m going to help Haley clean the tables.
More folks need to be sitting and eating your delicious food. ”
Sammie sniffled and hugged Demarien. “Look at you! Your dream is a beautiful thing, honey. You have such talent, and I can’t wait to eat your cooking again. Now, I’m gonna get started on the dishes. You might need to hire a little more help for Sundays. Want me to ask some of my folks?”
“Please,” he said, his own eyes watering. “Thank you, Sammie.”
“No thanks needed.” She turned to the sink and started loading the dishwasher.
“Every empty table is now full again,” Haley said, running in with her tray and a whole stack of orders.
She laughed manically as she filled cups.
“They love it, Demarien. Your food is a hit. Your dad is out there chatting everyone up like a proud papa bear. I’m going to make him start taking orders. ”
She ran out of the room again, tray full of drinks.
For a moment, the kitchen creaked softly around them, while somewhere outside, wind stirred through wet cedar trees. Demarien’s smile seemed a permanent feature to his face now. His dream was really coming true.
That evening, Demarien was exhausted, but elated.
The kitchen and dining areas were clean again, their pockets were flush, and the people of Myrtlewood Bay were in love with his food.
Sammie had sent one of her part-timers to him that afternoon for an interview.
The young man would work nicely for Sunday brunches.
Now, though, he walked slowly on his beach with Boone, Brownie, and a curious little crab.
The tide had gone out nearly an hour ago, leaving the beach wide and silver beneath the fading evening sky.
Waves rolled in softly, no louder than breaths, and gulls drifted like scraps of paper above the water. There was nobody else around for miles.
Boone walked a few paces ahead, his shoes dangling from one hand while the cold water washed over his bare feet. Every few seconds, he glanced back over his shoulder with that easy grin Demarien had fallen for years ago.
“You’re being weirdly quiet,” Boone said.
“I’m thinking.”
“That's dangerous, huh?”
Demarien huffed a laugh, though his heart was pounding hard enough to make him dizzy. “Yeah. Really dangerous.”
The wind pushed through Boone’s tousled blonde hair as he stopped walking and turned toward him. The sunset painted everything around them gold and copper. Behind Boone, the ocean stretched endlessly into the horizon.
“What’s going on with you?” Boone asked softly now. “You look worried. Today was a hit. An indication that everything will be alright. Take the win, love.”
Demarien opened his mouth, closed it again, and looked down at the wet sand. He’d rehearsed this speech for weeks while working on the inn, while making coffee, while lying awake at night beside him. Every carefully planned sentence had disappeared.
Instead, he said, “Do you remember the first time we came here?”
Boone smiled immediately. “When we met Casanova for the first time?”
“Yeah.” Demarien laughed, shaking his head. The nervousness loosened just enough for him to breathe. “You gave me that shell and told me a lovely story.”
Boone’s expression softened.
“I knew then,” Demarien continued quietly. “Not all at once, maybe. But enough to scare me.”
The waves hissed across the shore between them.
“You make every place feel like home,” Demarien said. “I could be anywhere with you, and it would still feel right. You’re part of my dream now. A real part. The most important part.”
Boone looked stunned into silence now, his eyes already beginning to shine.
Demarien swallowed hard and reached into his jacket pocket. His fingers nearly fumbled the small velvet box.
“Oh my god,” Boone whispered.
“Yeah,” Demarien breathed, laughing nervously.
“Yeah, okay, now I’m terrified.” He stepped closer until the water curled around both their feet.
“I know life won’t always be easy,” he said.
“We’ll probably make punny dad jokes until we’re eighty.
I’ll keep stealing the blankets. You’ll keep pretending you don’t cry during movies. ”
“I don’t cry during movies.”
“You absolutely cry during movies.”
“Constantly,” Boone admitted. He laughed through the tears gathering in his eyes.
“But I want all of it,” Demarien said. “Every stupid, beautiful part. With you.”
Then he lowered himself onto one knee in the wet sand. For a second, the world seemed to stop moving entirely.
Boone’s crooked grin was the only thing Demarien could see. How could he not have realized that this man had always been his dream and would always be?
“Boone Harding,” Demarien said, his voice shaking, “will you marry me?”
The only sound was the ocean.
Then Boone let out something between a laugh and a sob and dropped to his knees too, grabbing Demarien’s face with cold hands. “Yes,” he said immediately. “Yes, obviously yes.”
Demarien barely had time to open the ring box before Boone kissed him hard enough to nearly knock them both sideways into the sand.
They laughed against each other’s mouths, breathless and overwhelmed.
“You ruined my proposal speech,” Demarien murmured.
“You were taking too long.”
Demarien slid the ring onto Boone’s trembling finger. It caught the last light of the sunset like fire. The band was simple, platinum with three small diamonds. “This was Dad’s. He had it resized and brought it with him today. He knew before I did.”
“God, I love that man,” Boone said, laughing.
For a long moment, they stayed there, kneeling in the surf together, foreheads pressed close while the ocean moved endlessly around them, Brownie and the small crab playing in the water beside them.
Demarien’s dream finally felt real.