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I glance over at Harper, who seems to have relaxed slightly under my mother’s warm gaze. She gives me a slight nod, and I give in to my mother’s antics.
“Mommy!” Peter calls, rushing down the stairs with Olivia following behind.
Harper’s face lights up. They bound toward her, their laughter filling the room like music. The moment they’re within reach, she scoops them up into her arms, showering them with affectionate kisses.
“Mom!” Olivia squeals, wrapping her tiny arms around Harper’s neck. Her son follows suit, his eyes shining with happiness. Neither of them have a clue what was going on, and it’s probably best that way.
“Hey, little ones,” Harper coos, her voice thick with emotion. “I missed you so much.”
Then she looks up at my mother. “Thanks for watching them for me. Looks like they were enjoying themselves.”
“Harper, dear, really it was my pleasure,” my mother calls out, stepping forward with a warm smile. She takes in the scene before her, her gaze softening as she reaches out to touch Harper’s arm. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Benedict has talked about you very highly.”
“Thank you, Aimee,” Harper replies, a hint of shyness in her tone. “Your home is lovely.”
“Isn’t it? I take great pride in keeping it cozy.” Mom turns her attention to Antonio and Hudson, who have been hovering nearby, unsure of where they fit into the picture. “Antonio, Hudson, you haven’t even bothered to stop in and see me.”
“We’re sorry,” Antonio says, flashing a charming grin. Hudson simply nods, but that’s enough for my mother who begins to nag at them.
As the conversation flows, I watch my mother work her magic, drawing everyone in with her warmth and welcoming nature. Her gift for making people feel at ease has always been one of her most remarkable traits, and I’m grateful to see her using it now.
“Would anyone care for some lemonade?” Mom asks, gesturing toward the kitchen. “I made a fresh batch this morning.”
“Sounds delicious,” Harper replies, her eyes sparkling with appreciation.
“Come on then,” Mom says, leading the way into the kitchen. “You all can get comfortable.”
The scent of fresh lemonade fills the air as we all gather in the kitchen. I can’t help but feel a sense of warmth as I watch Harper and my mother chatting effortlessly with each other. It’s like they’ve known each other for years, not minutes.
“Harper, dear, tell me about your work,” Mom says, her curiosity genuine. “Benedict mentioned that you’re quite passionate about it.”
Harper’s eyes light up as she describes owning a bakery. Mom listens intently, nodding along and asking questions. It’s amazing to see them connect so easily.
“Your dedication is truly admirable,” Mom says sincerely, placing a comforting hand on Harper’s arm. “It’s no wonder Benedict speaks so highly of you.”
“Thank you, Aimee,” Harper replies softly, her cheeks flushed from the compliment. “I’m just doing what I love.”
Mom moves toward the kitchen counter, ready to take charge of lunch preparations. “I should probably finish up making lunch. Harper, you just relax and enjoy your time with the children.”
“But I can help—” Harper protests.
“Absolutely not,” Mom interrupts gently. “You’re our guest today, and it’s time for these boys to learn some responsibility.” She sends a pointed look in our direction. “Alright, everyone, listen up!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Benedict, you’re in charge of setting the table. Antonio, please prepare the salad. And Hudson, you’ll be responsible for grilling the vegetables.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we respond in unison, quickly dispersing to complete our assigned tasks.
As I lay out the silverware on the dining table, I steal glances toward Harper, who is now laughing at Antonio’s attempts to toss the salad. The sight warms my heart in a way I didn’t think possible. For the first time in a long while, I feel truly content.
“Antonio, honey, make sure you toss those greens evenly,” Mom advises with a knowing smile. “And Hudson, don’t forget to season the vegetables before grilling.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they both reply, their respect for her evident in their voices. It’s clear they’re just as taken by her warmth and charisma as I’ve always been.
“Everything smells amazing, Aimee,” Harper enthuses from her spot at the dining table, where she’s keeping an eye on the kids while also engaging in animated conversation with my mom.
“Thank you, dear,” Mom replies, beaming at her. “I hope it tastes just as good! I wanted to make sure there were plenty of options.”
We finally gather around the table. The atmosphere is light and positive. “Nice Christmas spread, Mom,” I compliment her.
“Oh, don’t think you’re getting out of coming back tomorrow for Christmas.” She rolls her eyes. “Now dig in.”
