Chapter Twenty-Two Reasonable Concerns
Jane
The kitchen changed the moment James left.
It was not quieter. The ovens still hummed. Pans still clinked. Molly and Erin kept moving through their prep lists with efficient focus. But the pressure shifted. Like a window had been opened and a draft had moved the air just enough to let everyone breathe again.
James announced his departure loudly, of course.
“They want some footage of the setup,” he said, already backing toward the door and ignoring the mess he had left behind plus the fact that he hadn't made anything resembling a cake like he said he was going to do when he started making the mess. “Wedding commentary and behind-the-scenes charm.”
The cameraman perked up immediately. The sound tech followed, boom mic rising like a curious antenna.
Carly smiled. “Of course they do.”
James gestured broadly. “People love context. It humanizes the event.”
I kept my attention on the sauce I was reducing. If I looked at him, he would take it as an invitation to talk even more.
“Jane has everything well in hand,” Carly said. “You will not be missed.”
James laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “I taught her everything she knows. I only wish we had completed her training. Janie is mediocre without me.”
The words slid over me the way they always did, making me feel smaller and less. I held my tongue, hoping he would leave quickly.
“I will circle back later,” James added, already half out the door. “Save me something photogenic.”
Then he was gone, camera crew trailing behind him, the door swinging shut with a finality.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Molly exhaled softly. Erin rolled her shoulders as if releasing tension she had been holding since she arrived.
I kept my professional persona firmly in place.
I couldn’t afford to break down or spiral since there was a wedding depending on me.
I would process all the words, all the hurt, later when there was time.
No doubt, I would be kept wide awake by the process as I had many many nights when I previously worked for James.
I checked my all important list and adjusted the timing by five minutes. Called out instructions in a calm, even tone.
And then I felt it.
Carly’s attention.
She hadn’t left with James and the multitude of cameras. She stood where she was, hands folded neatly, watching the kitchen as if she were seeing it for the first time.
“You run this very well,” she commented.
I nodded without looking up. “Thank you.”
“I mean it,” she continued. “You have authority without noise. That is rare.”
I stirred the sauce slowly, letting it thicken. I had the feeling compliments from Carly Hale were never uncomplicated.
Molly cleared her throat. “Jane, do you want me to start plating the appetizers?”
“Yes,” I said. “But wait until the trays warm. Put them into the oven for two minutes.”
Molly nodded and moved away.
Carly watched her go.
“You have loyalty,” Carly said. “That takes time to build.”
I finally looked up. “We are busy.”
She smiled faintly. “So am I.”
There was something deliberate in the way she said it. A pause that suggested she was choosing her next words carefully.
“Would you mind stepping into the little library room for a moment?” Carly asked. “I promise I won’t keep you long.”
Every instinct I had said no. Not now. Not today. Not when there were timelines and temperatures and people counting on me.
But Carly didn’t sound like someone who would accept a refusal gracefully.
I glanced at Erin. “I will be right back.”
Erin nodded. “We will stick to the schedule and lists you have.”
I followed Carly into the small sitting room just off the kitchen. The door remained open. She didn’t close it behind us, which felt intentional. This was not meant to feel secretive.
She took a seat. I remained standing to remind her that I didn’t really have time to talk.
“You can sit,” she offered.
“I’m fine,” I said.
She inclined her head. “Of course.”
For a moment, she simply studied me. Not rudely, but like someone assessing a situation she believed she understood.
“I wanted to speak to you without an audience,” she said finally. “James makes everything louder than it needs to be.”
“He does,” I replied with reservation, wondering what she was getting at.
Her lips curved slightly as she folded her hands in her lap. “I should say first that I admire what you are doing here. Truly.”
I waited.
“You have built something tangible,” Carly continued. “A place. A role. You are not performing for anyone. You are providing something real.”
The words landed carefully. Almost too carefully.
“I like my work,” I said.
“I can see that and I understand why.” She briefly paused, then went on. “I also understand my brother.”
That was the moment my shoulders tightened.
“Braxton is kind. He is generous. He likes to help. Those qualities make him easy to love.”
I did not respond.
“They also make him very visible,” she added. “People notice him and expect things from him. He can overgive sometimes. His money, his efforts, his time. It’s a bit exhausting always having to make sure he isn’t giving too much.”
I crossed my arms loosely. “He’s a good person and I am aware of who he is.”
Carly nodded. “Of course you are. But you may not be aware of what comes with that.”
She leaned back slightly, her posture relaxed.
“The Hale family is… public. There is money, yes, but more importantly there is expectation. With status comes responsibilities like being a member of various charity boards, attending fundraising galas and hosting dinners. We must appear in the right places with the right people. Be photographed doing the right things.”
I thought of Braxton standing in the kitchen, hands shoved into his pockets, watching me work as if I were the most interesting person in the room.
“He doesn’t enjoy that part,” Carly continued. “But Braxton does it, because it is part of our family obligations.”
I said nothing.
“He will return to the city,” she added gently. “To his firm and to his responsibilities. This week is a pause, not a change.”
I stared at the patterned rug beneath my feet, at the faint scuff near the leg of the chair.
“I’m not asking him to stay,” I softly told her.
“I know,” Carly replied, not unkindly. “But you might wish he could.”
The words slid under my skin.
Carly leaned forward slightly. “I’m not saying you are wrong for him. I am saying the world he inhabits is not gentle.”
I met her gaze. “Neither is mine.”
She smiled faintly. “That may be true. But your world rewards competence. His rewards polish. Tabloids and magazines are critical.”
I thought of James. Of the way he talked about vision instead of work. Of how easily people mistook shine for substance.
“I am not a socialite,” I said quietly.
“No,” Carly agreed. “You are certainly not.”
She said it like an observation, not an insult. Somehow that made it worse.
“Braxton’s life involves hosting dinners.
Imagine if you were to host the dinner with foreign dignitaries, politicians, and movie stars.
You can’t hide in the kitchen,” Carly went on.
“If you were to become a couple you would be attending events where appearance matters more than effort. People would write about you, appalling things sometimes, and people would read those articles and newspapers. Everything you wear, your hair, your weight, all on display for the public to be seen.”
Silence settled between us.
“I have seen this before,” Carly said softly. “People fall in love with Braxton because he makes them feel chosen. And he means it in the moment.”
My chest tightened.
“But eventually,” she continued, “the scale tips. The obligations return. The firm needs him. The family needs him. The life he comes from does not disappear just because he wishes it would.”
I swallowed.
“You deserve a life that fits. One that you enjoy. I don’t think the life I described would be one that you would choose,” Carly gently mentioned.
I looked at her then. Really looked.
“You think I would have to become someone else,” I said.
“I think you would be asked to,” she replied. “Over and over. Quietly. Reasonably. Until you don’t even recognize yourself. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to him.”
I thought of James’ voice. Of being told I had potential if only I changed. If only I stayed longer. If only I became something shinier.
“I’m happy here,” I said. I was happy with my family, with doing something that mattered. I had been happy here with Braxton.
Carly nodded. “I believe you. Which is why I felt the need to say something before feelings ran deeper. I do love my brother and would hope to spare him pain.”
The door behind me opened slightly as Erin peeked in.
“Jane,” she said gently. “We are ready for the next step when you are.”
I turned toward her immediately. “Thank you. I’m coming.”
Carly stood as well. “I will not keep you.”
I walked back to the kitchen by myself. The heat and motion rushed back in, familiar and grounding.
Jane the professional slid back into place easily. I adjusted a pan, checked a timer, and gave instructions. The world narrowed to things I could control.
Braxton did not return.
I told myself it was fine. He had responsibilities. He always would.
The kitchen hummed around me, steady and reliable.
And for the first time since he arrived, I let myself imagine what it would feel like when he left.