Page 31 of Neap & Spring

“We know you will,” Dad says simply. “No big deal. That’s what we do. We help each other.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Wesley nods once, jerkily, and goes back to his cioppino, but his shoulders are looser than they were a minute ago.

Dad lets the moment settle, then he looks at me.

“Cal.”

Here we go.

I set down my spoon. The metal clinks against the bowl, and it’s too loud in the quiet. “High: The restaurant had a good week. Numbers were solid. We’re finally nailing the plating on the new special for this month.”

“That’s great, Cal,” Dad says warmly.

“Really great,” Hayes adds. “What’s the special?”

“Pan-seared halibut. Brown butter sauce, fennel and citrus salad.”

“Sounds incredible,” Beckett says. “When can I come try it?”

“Anytime. You know that.”

“And the numbers being solid,” Wesley says, leaning forward slightly, “that’s a big deal. You’ve been working your ass off.”

“Language,” Dad murmurs, but he’s nodding. “Wes is right. You should be proud of that.”

I should be. I know I should be.

But the high feels hollow when I know what’s coming next.

I pick up my beer and take a long drink, feeling the cold liquid slide down my throat. When I set it down, my hand stays wrapped around the bottle, the cold anchoring me.

Dad’s watching me carefully. He has to know. They all have to know.

“And the low?” Dad asks gently.

I take a breath.

“Vivienne’s back.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Beckett’s fork stops halfway to his mouth, suspended in air. Hayes sets down his water glass with a soft clink. Wesley doesn’t react, because he already knows, but his eyes are on me and full of concern.

Dad doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just stares at me and waits.

“Vivienne,” Beckett repeats finally, like he’s testing the word. He sets down his fork slowly. “As in … Vivienne Vivienne? Paris Vivienne?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit.”

“Language,” Dad says automatically, but there’s no heat in it. He’s still watching me, his hands folded on the table.

“Wait.” Hayes is frowning, trying to piece it together. He leans forward and rests his forearms on the table. “The consultant? The one the investors hired? That’s her?”

“Yep.”

“The one who disappeared off the face of the earth and you never heard from again?”