He points his spoon at her. “Exactly. Your mother started that nonsense. Ruined perfectly good chowder.”
Hazel winks at me. “Ruined, my foot! He loves the bacon. He proposed after his third bowl.”
“That was the indigestion talking,” Sy says, but there’s a gleam in his eye when he looks at her.
Everyone chuckles, and the table falls into that happy rhythm only real families share. Passing bread. Telling stories over full bowls.
Sy looks across the table at me. “So, young lady. What do you think?”
I smile, lifting my spoon. “Honestly? It tastes like comfort.”
His eyes crinkle. “That’s the highest compliment a chowder can get.” After a beat, he adds, “Glad you’re here, you know. My grandson seems happier. Weallsee it.”
Knox downs his water like it’s a shot of vodka while that gravelly lump in my throat returns without warning.
“I’m glad I’m here too,” I manage.
Claire refills my water with a smile that rivals sunshine. Hazel slides another slice of bread onto my plate. And Sy, gruff,warm, and fully committed to his one-man comedy set, won’t stop until I’m laughing between bites.
By the time we finish, my belly isn’t the only thing that’s full. My heart is, too.
CHAPTER 30
Knox
Amber rays filter through the orchard trees as I shut my car’s trunk with a quiet thud, our last bag packed inside. Vermont’s morning air is laced with apples and dew, and for a second, I wish we weren’t leaving today.
We all gather on the front porch, wood creaking beneath our shoes as laughter drifts between the columns.
Grandma presses a paper bag into Cami’s hands. “Some biscuits in case you get hungry before Connecticut. There’s extra apple butter in there and a few small bottles of that yummy maple syrup, too. It’s our favorite. And I already gave Knox a basket of apples from the orchard,” she adds with a wink. “So you’re set.”
Cami’s smile softens. She brings the open bag to her chest, the buttery scent reaching me even from here. “Thank you so much, Hazel.”
Mom steps forward, arms wrapping around her. Cami stiffens for a half-second, then melts into the embrace. “You’re welcome here anytime,” Mom says against her hair. “No invitation needed.”
Cami blinks quickly, the corners of her mouth trembling. “That means a lot.”
I shift my weight, the porch rail cool under my palm. A lump in my throat forms, uninvited. Goodbyes have never been my thing.
To think I came up here to check on Grandpa and ended up falling deeper for a woman who slammed into my life in all the right ways. And somehow, my family’s fallen for her, too.
Grandpa—who insisted on walking yesterday just to prove he still could—is perched on the wheelchair he hates, a fleece blanket across his lap like he’s holding court. “Don’t let my grandson overthink things,” he tells Cami, wagging a frail finger. “He’s got a bad habit of turning simple into complicated.”
“I’ll do my best.” Her contagious laugh makes us all laugh, too.
Grandpa flits his gaze to me. “And you better come back here soon.”
Walking over, I crouch beside him. “I will. Promise. You feeling okay?”
He shrugs like the weight of seventy-nine years is nothing. “Better than a few days ago. That’ll do.”
“You worried me, old man. No more falls.” I give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Pulled that stunt to get you here.” His bushy, gray brows lift. “And it worked.”
Grandma comes up beside him with a shake of her head. “Now come on, Sy. You know Knox was just here two months ago.”
“Yeah, but this visit wins,” Grandpa mutters. “He brought good company.”
