“I wasn’t sure if I should bring something,” she said.“But I figured wine was safe.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”She stepped inside and looked around the restaurant with obvious appreciation.The dinner rush was in full swing, so the main room was filled with chatter.She stepped closer.“Bryan, this place is beautiful.”
He tried to see it through her eyes.The weathered wooden tables, the nautical decor that was probably twenty years out of style, and the slightly crooked floorboards that no one had bothered to fix because they’d been that way since the building was constructed.
“It’s old,” he said.
“It’s authentic.”She walked to the wall of photographs, studying the black-and-white images of fishing boats and harbor scenes.“Is this your grandfather?”
Bryan joined her at the photo she’d indicated.His grandfather stood on the deck of a shrimp boat, sun-weathered and grinning, holding up the day’s catch.
“That’s him.Took that boat out every morning for forty years.”
“You look like him.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”She turned to face him, and they were suddenly very close in the quiet restaurant.“He looks happy.”
“He loved the work.Even when it was hard, even when the catch was terrible, he loved being out on the water.”He shoved his hands in his pockets.“I always thought I’d do the same.Take over the boat, keep the tradition going.”
“But you ended up here instead.”
“Someone had to run the restaurant.My cousin does most of the fishing now.I still try to get out three or four mornings a week, but fishing’s not what it used to be.Regulations, quotas, and environmental changes.Some days it feels like the Gulf’s trying to tell us our time is over.”
The words came out heavy, more serious than he should probably have been.She reached out and touched his arm, a brief gesture of understanding that somehow steadied him.
“For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “I think your grandfather would be proud of what you’re doing.Protecting his legacy, keeping the restaurant going, and fighting for this community.”
Before he could respond, his sister came out of the kitchen, balancing a tray on her hip.“You better get in there.Mom’s getting antsy.She wants to know if you’re going to make Cassidy stand in the dining room all night.”
“Cassidy, this is my sister, Lucy.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”Lucy glanced into the dining room.“Gotta go.Need to run this order over to table eight.”She gave a little grin.“Good luck.”
Cassidy turned to him.“Good luck?Luck with what?”
“The upcoming inquisition by my mom.”He winked at her.
He led her to the back room, where his mother had already started bringing out dishes.She rearranged the table, and it looked nothing like the casual menu tasting he had planned.His mother had gone all out.
“You must be Cassidy.”His mother wiped her hands and pulled Cassidy into a hug before Bryan could make proper introductions.“I’m Mona.”
Lucy came into the room, and his mom said, “You’ve met Lucy, Bryan’s baby sister.”
Lucy rolled her eyes.“Mom, I’m not a baby, I’m thirty-five years old.”
“You’ll always be my baby.”His mom bobbed her head with authority.
Hadn’t his sister learned by now not to argue with their mother?
“Oh, you brought wine.That was thoughtful.Lucy, get some wine glasses for us.”His mother stepped back to study Cassidy.“Bryan says you saved the dock supplies during the storm.”
“I helped secure a tent.Bryan did most of the work.”
