Page 51 of Carter

The one that’s not yet Bachman.

Bronson made an exception and look what happened.

My face is absolutely on fire.

Bronson says, “I think Sasha’s growling stomach has the right idea. It’s time we go and taste those famous Bachman dishes. In closing, I’ll repeat the words of Brett Bachman⁠—”

“Let’s party!” Everyone rises to their feet, smiling at me, giving me winks, playful nudges. Mary whispers in my ear, “Thank God—my legs were falling asleep.”

And we are off, to celebrate the wonderful life of a great man.

Before we leave, I find Tess alone near the back garden, staring at a plate she has not touched. For once I do not fill the silence. I sit beside her, take the plate from her shaking hands, and stay.

After a while she leans her head against my shoulder. I do not tell her it will be okay. I do not think it will be, not for a long time. I only lace my fingers through hers and say, “You don’t have to be alone tonight.”

We arrive at the family restaurant. We’ve closed it down to the public for the day. Tess and Rockland are already here. Tess has a glass of chilled wine in her hand. Her eyes are bloodshot. She’s sniffling.

But as people greet her, she smiles. Her eloquent manners have returned. She looks to be much calmer.

Rockland stands behind her chair. His hand heavy on her shoulder. He watches her like a hawk. As more people arrive, he takes her hand. Helps her from the chair. Whispers something in her ear that makes her blush.

Every so often she looks as if she wants to run. From the crowd, from the grief? Of which I’m unsure. But I know that every time that look crosses her face, Rockland’s hand goes to her lower back. Pressing gently and guiding her to the next family member to accept their condolences.

It’s unconventional, but I honestly don’t think she’d get through this day without his firm guidance.

I can’t help but to cut my eyes to John. He’s leaning against the bar. His chin juts out confidently as he talks. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of what would happen to me if something happened to Carter. I push the thought from my mind and focus on serving the next woman in line.

I’ve volunteered to work the event. I’m running from table to table, replacing empty dishes with new ones. A smile crosses my lips to see that my food is gone. Every bite of it. Paige is here, now; Bronson’s invited her for the meal, and she’s helping me. She’s fast and her smile unarms even the saddest of the group.

By the end of the night, I’m sweating. My curls have loosened. My muscles are sore. I’m exhausted.

But then, Carter is gathering me into his arms. He’s kissing the top of my head, my damp hair. He’s rubbing my back, his hand grazes over my bottom, giving it a light squeeze. He whispers into my ear, “I’m proud of you, baby girl. Oh, so proud of you.”

My heart wells in my chest and a mile-wide smile stretches on my lips.

I see Paige in Bronson’s arms. I catch her eye to share my smile.

That’s when I see it.

My smile drops. My stomach knots.

Paige is wearing a humungous diamond on her left hand.

13

Carter

Bronson’s in love.

When he came to me and told me he’d proposed, I had to hold my face together to hide the shock. I never thought he’d let himself marry.

“You don’t say?” I said, sounding like a news reporter from 1950s.

His face was glowing, his eyes dancing as he spoke of Paige. “She’s like no one I’ve ever met. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Congratulations. Tell me more about her. She’s been so quiet the few times we’ve had dinner, I haven’t gotten to know her as well as I’d like.”

I’ve never seen the man talk so much.