Elyna laughed. “That sounds about right.”
We settled around the table, food being passed, glasses filled. For a few minutes, it was easy. Stories about Braden refusing to sleep. Phoenix complaining about work. Sandy asking Becket if there was anything to report around town.
That caused Dad’s eyebrows to rise. “Why aren’t you asking me that question?”
Sandy watched him with warm eyes. “Because you have a knack for keeping things quiet because you’re scared I might break.”
Dad winced. I don’t think Sandy was wrong. After Mom left him with five kids to raise on his own it seemed like he was scared to send Sandy running.
“Nothing major,” Becket answered.
Harmony watched it all with a soft smile, one hand resting on Eric’s arm. This was the version of family people imagined when they said the word. Halfway through dinner, Harmony leaned back slightly and tilted her head toward me.
“So,” she said casually, “I had a visitor this morning at the bakery.”
I stiffened without meaning to.
“Oh?” Eric said. “Customer or trouble?”
Harmony’s eyes sparkled. “A customer. Pretty blonde. Said she works at the orchard.”
My fork paused halfway to my mouth.
“And,” Harmony added, clearly enjoying herself now, “she mentioned you like to feed her.”
The table erupted in laughter.
Phoenix let out a low whistle. “Wow. Who’s the lucky lady, Ash?”
Sandy gasped theatrically. “Finally.”
Becket smirked. “Oh, little brother, do tell.”
I groaned.
Harmony laughed. “Relax. I’m just teasing. But she was nice. Quiet. Polite.”
Dad’s gaze sharpened immediately. “Working at the orchard?”
I shot him a look. “Don’t.”
“When did you hire her?” he asked.
“Dad,” I said. “Can we not turn this into an interrogation?”
Sandy frowned. “Leave him be, Pierre.” She leaned over and kissed Dad’s cheek, and his cheeks turned red. It was so odd to watch Dad and her together. Even after all the time that had passed.
“We should know who she is after everything this family has been through lately.” Dad shrugged.
“With all due respect, Dad, listen to Sandy,” I muttered.
Dad ignored the jab. “What’s her name?”
“Claire,” I said, more sharply than I intended.
Harmony’s smile softened. “She mentioned a best friend. Said she loved maple butter tarts.”
My chest tightened. Dad noticed.