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The oven timer started beeping, and I moved to press stop.
“I hope you’re hungry. Holden’s chef went a little overboard with dinner. Why don’t you two take a seat and we’ll bring the food over?” I grabbed a pair of oven mitts and bent to open the door.
Holden helped me put the food on the table, grabbing the salad from the fridge and another bottle of wine, while I took care of the food from the oven. Once everything was on the table, plates were filled and glasses of wine were refilled from a new bottle. The table was silent for a second as everyone started eating.
“I guess you never did get around to learning how to cook?” Cam directed her question to Holden.
“I haven’t had the time. It’s easier to use a chef when you’re just feeding yourself too.” The most unrelatable answer ever, but we all nodded our heads agreeably, bless his poor little wealthy heart.
“I know you’ve been there for a while and I’m behind, but how do you like living in Beacon Hill?” I asked Paul. I was genuinely curious about his answer, since I knew he was originally from the Charlotte area.
“I love it. I had my doubts at first. It’s very different from where I envisioned myself practicing, and I did my residency in a much bigger city, but I can’t imagine living anywhere else now. It’s a really great place to raise kids.”
“It is,” I agreed, “even if I didn’t always love growing up there. I swear my parents knew about half the trouble I got into before I even got home.”
Cam laughed. “It’s true. I was thirty minutes past curfew once and tried to sneak in the house. Both my parents were sitting on the couch waiting for me. Mrs. Dotson had called them when she saw us driving down Main Street, because she thought it was a little late for us to be out ‘joyriding.’”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Mrs. Dotson was the worst. I swear she sat on her porch all day long, just waiting to bust someone doing something. Remember when she started the rumor that the mailman was running drugs for the cartel?”
“Oh my God, I totally forgot about that one.” Cam laughed, then turned to Paul to explain. “He’d been delivering an unusual number of packages to the Westons’ place, but it turned out that Mr. Weston had just been ordering his prescriptions from Canada because it was cheaper.”
“Wow.” Paul seemed unable to form more than a one-word answer.
“Weeven heard about that one,” Holden said, leaning back in his chair. “She called my grandfather when the police refused to investigate and the FBI wasn’t responding to her messages.”
“His grandfather was the city solicitor at the time,” I explained in case Paul was confused about why she would call Holden’s grandfather about drug-running.
“I’m sure your grandaddy just loved that.” Cam took another drink of wine.
“You know him — he’s the consummate politician,” Holden replied. I fought the urge to add “Unless he’s busy calling your family trash;” this wasn’t the time or place, and I had promised myself to let the past go.
“So,” Cam said, “how did you two end up together?”
“The wedding.”
“Trauma bonding.”
Holden and I spoke at the same time, earning laughs from everyone.
“All the time we spent together for wedding events,” I clarified. “In a roundabout way, Sissy and Macon brought us together. Not that I’ll ever give her credit for it.”
“You won’t have to,” Cam said. “She’ll go ahead and take credit for it herself.”
“You’re not wrong.” I held up my glass and she clinked it with hers. It was really nice to have a friend who understood what Sissy was like without me having to explain.
“Drove past the Bradford place yesterday,” Paul told Holden. “It looks like they finished the drywall.”
Holden nodded. “They finished a couple weeks ago. I’m going to try to make it out there next week to go over some design options.”
“That’s so exciting!” Cam chimed in. “It’s so nice seeing that place get the love it deserves. Will you be able to stay there much?”
“Actually...” Holden hesitated, locking eyes with me. I gave him an encouraging smile. “I haven’t told the firm yet, but I’m going to take the solicitor position when Mr. Grant steps down. I’ll run officially in the next election.”
“That’s amazing, Holden! You’re going to be such a great city solicitor,” Cam exclaimed enthusiastically. “It’ll be so nice having you local, too.”
“I’ll be happy to have you on our golf team. Consider this your official invitation, by the way,” Paul informed Holden, earning one of those small grins in return.
“What about you, Sutton?” Cam turned her attention to me. “Any plans to move back?”
