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"I reckoned you didn't know I'd show up, eh?" Jedediah chuckled, his voice deep and resonant, like the comforting roll of distant thunder. He broke into a broad smile, his eyes sparkling with mirth under the crinkled lines of his weathered face.
"I didn't, but I'm so glad you're here," I confessed, unable to hide the joy in my voice. Then, without warning, Jedediah scooped me up in his arms and swung me around like he did when I was a girl, eliciting a squeal of surprise and laughter from me.
"I wouldn't miss this for the world, and oh, by the way. When your daddy told me you was starten back to school, I wasn't one bit surprised.... over the internet, too." Jedediah affirmed, setting me back on my feet.
“That’s right.” I nodded grinning. “I’m starting back online as soon as the next semester starts. Brad’s also decided to work on his master’s degree—in computer science.”
My father, watching the reunion unfold, finally chimed in, "Court, Jedediah's been a part of your life for so long you didn’t think he’d miss it did you? Celebrating your wedding wouldn't be the same without him here."
With our merriment reaching new heights, Brad signaled for our attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're here to celebrate. Not just any celebration, mind you, but a celebration sponsored by Rosedale Technologies," he announced, his voice brimming with pride. "And why not, given the considerable windfall we've received from the Golden Key Software patent award! Let’s get this party started!!”
A chorus of approving whoops and cheers resonated in the grand dining room. "After all, with Clint and Agent Carter behind bars, don't you all agree it's high time we partied hardy?” His words met with unanimous, enthusiastic cheers.
"Bring it on!" Chase's voice boomed across the room, a grin plastered across his face. His energetic spirit was infectious, radiating through the crowd. Suddenly, he shot to his feet, his chair clattering slightly behind him, his enthusiasm unable to be contained. Throwing his arms wide as if embracing the entirety of our celebration, he yelled again, "Where's the beer?" His laughter echoed through the room, urging everyone into even higher spirits. His antics elicited laughter and an eye-roll from his wife, Meagan, turning our hearty celebration into a truly unforgettable occasion.
"Grab me one, too," Amy chimed in, easing herself into the chair next to her mom, Elana. Her eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and affection as she took in Elana's worried expression.
"Oh, would you relax, Mum? Ava's perfectly fine with the sitter."
"But what if she..." Elana began.
Amy, anticipating her mother's spiraling worries, quickly interjected. "Let's find out," she declared, pulling out her phone. With a few quick taps, she placed a call to the babysitter. Those around her fell into a hush, all eyes on Amy, humor dancing in their eyes as they anticipated the conversation.
"Yes, everything's great. And Ava? Oh, she's just finished her dinner. Playing with her toys now? That's wonderful. Thanks for taking care of her."
Amy hung up and turned to her mother, a triumphant smile on her face. "See? All is fine. Ava is having the time of her life. Now, you need a glass of wine."
Elana's relieved sigh and smile had barely settled in the room when Giuseppe, ever the good sport, was off in pursuit of a glass of rosé for his bride, a round of laughter following him. That tender, family moment seemed to hold the evening still for a heartbeat, a soothing pause amidst the joyous chaos.
However, even as Amy's mother eased into her chair, sipping her wine, the air around us remained charged with tangible gratitude, a silent toast to the trials we'd faced together and the invaluable allies we'd gained along the way.
In that moment of quiet, just a breath before the party resumed its lively buzz, I noticed how Mitch and Amy exchanged a knowing glance. Then, moving as if on some shared rhythm, they wove through the room. The rustic chandeliers cast a soft glow on their faces, giving them an almost ethereal look as they sought Kenneth Downing.
Agent Downing was seated next to Martha. His ever-watchful gaze was scanning the room. The usual sharpness in his eyes softened as he registered their approach. Mitch was the first to speak up, "Downing, we owe you big time," he announced, extending a hand and clapping the agent warmly on his back.
Amy was quick to echo her husband's sentiment, her agreement clear in her nod. "If you and Giuseppe hadn't gotten involved, who knows where we'd be now."
"I'll toast to that," Ryder said, raising his beer.
My attention was caught by the energy that was emitting between Martha and Downing. So, I spotted Ariel and pulled her aside. Then, discreetly—or maybe not so discreetly—I pointed to a corner of the dining room. "Downing is sitting next to your mother. What's the scoop?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Ariel followed my gaze, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "They're just getting to know each other," she revealed. But then she lowered her voice and added, "But you know, Court, I see a spark in my mother's eye that I haven't seen for years."
Their blossoming relationship was just another delightful twist in our winding journey. "Tonight is about celebrating our victories, new beginnings, and unexpected friendships," I declared.
As the lively chatter and laughter filled the room, Brad clinked his spoon against his drinking glass, grabbing the attention of the crew. His commanding yet charismatic voice rang out, "Folks, grab your drinks and get in line. It's about time we sat down to a real Western feast!"
With the enticing aroma of hickory smoked brisket wafting through the air, the grand dining room transformed into a scene from an old Western movie. The buffet tables lining the room's edges were filled with the heartiest dishes, each delicately crafted with the bold flavors of the American frontier.
A Texas-style smoked beef brisket glistened under the warm lights on one table, the carving knife sinking into the tender, smoky meat effortlessly. Adjacent to it, smoked pork ribs rubbed with a spicy-sweet concoction took center stage.
A tray of skillet-fried cornbread, crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, sat next to a cast iron pot of baked beans. The sides didn't disappoint either—there were classic coleslaws, potato salads, and a cornucopia of pickled veggies.
The pièce de résistance was the cowboy chili, its rich, aromatic steam curling up from a massive iron pot set over a mock campfire. The complex mix of flavors and spices made it a dish that even the toughest gunslinger would swoon over.
The sight was enough to make any mouth water, and Ryder and Amber were first in line, plates in hand.
The background music transitioned smoothly as our group filled their plates and settled down. The stringed ensemble gave way to a lively bluegrass band that set the atmosphere ablaze with their infectious, foot-tapping rhythms. The banjo, fiddle, and mandolin meshed beautifully, churning out energetic tunes that made it impossible to keep your feet still.
