“My family’s been making the same dishes for three generations.We need to figure out what works for a festival setting versus the restaurant.Smaller portions, easier to eat while walking, that kind of thing.”He rubbed the back of his neck.Why was this suddenly awkward?“Mom’s going to be there.And my sister, Lucy.It’s casual.Just family and food.”
“You want me to meet your mother?”
The way she said it made it sound like he’d proposed something far more significant than a menu tasting.Heat crept up his neck.
“She’s going to be at the festival anyway,” he said quickly.“And she keeps asking about the woman who rescued the supply tent in a thunderstorm.Might as well get the interrogation over with.”
Cassidy smiled, and it transformed her whole face.Not the polished professional smile she’d worn at that first meeting, but something genuine and a little uncertain.
“I’d like that,” she said.“What time?”
“Seven.Come hungry.”
Bryan spent the afternoon second-guessing every decision he’d made in the last four hours.Why had he invited Cassidy to a family dinner?This was supposed to be a working relationship.Professional.Focused on saving the festival and protecting the waterfront from developers like George Morton.
Except it hadn’t felt professional when they’d worked together on her cottage porch last week, trading stories about their lives while planning vendor layouts.And it definitely hadn’t felt professional when she’d texted him a photo of a terrible motivational poster she’d seen at the general store with the note:Found your leadership style.
He’d laughed so hard he’d nearly dropped his phone in the harbor.
“You’re pacing.”His mother appeared in the doorway of the Sandpiper’s kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You only pace when something’s bothering you.”She studied him with the x-ray vision that all mothers seemed to possess.“Is this about the festival?”
“The festival’s fine.Great, actually.Cassidy’s got sponsors lined up, the Harbor Ladies are helping with volunteers, and we’ve already got twice as many vendor applications as last year.”
“Cassidy.”His mother’s expression shifted into something that made Bryan immediately suspicious.“The woman you invited to dinner tonight.”
“It’s not dinner.It’s a menu tasting.For work.”
“Mmhmm.”She turned back to the stove, but he could hear the smile in her voice.“I made the clam chowder.And the grouper.And the key lime pie.”
“Mom.”
“What?You said taste test.I’m testing.”She glanced over her shoulder.“Does this Cassidy have any food allergies I should know about?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so, or you don’t know?”
Bryan pulled out his phone and texted Cassidy.Any food allergies?
Her response came immediately.No.Why?
My mother’s asking.
Tell her I eat everything.And that I’m looking forward to meeting her.
He showed his mother the message.She read it, then patted his cheek like he was twelve years old.
“I like her already,” she said.
He glanced at the back room one more time.The Sandpiper’s back room had exposed brick walls, vintage fishing photographs, and a long wooden table that had hosted everything from family dinners to town council meetings.Bryan had set six places, then removed three, then put them back.Finally, he’d settled on four: himself, Mom, his sister Lucy, and Cassidy.
Casual.Professional.Definitely not a date.
He walked out to the main restaurant when the door opened.Cassidy stood in the entrance, backlit by the sunset over the Gulf.She’d changed into a soft blue dress that made her eyes look even brighter, and she held a bottle of wine like a peace offering.
