Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
When we arrive, a valet opens the limo door for Dad and Grayson. I wait, thrown when Grayson turns and holds out his hand to help me out. Dad watches, grinning. The bad feeling grows, but I can’t exactly cause a scene because someone offers me a polite hand.
There’s a small blitz of flashes, not unexpected. I knew our camera team would be here to document the memorial dinner.
People stare as they lead our group through the restaurant like VIPs up to the second floor, which is one large glassed-in terrace. It’s beautiful, full of green plants and with one side open to Freedom Park that runs along the bay. From here, it’s almost like being out in the country, with an amazing view of the water and the winding paths full of people enjoying the weather. Dad loves the exclusivity of the restaurant, but I’ve always loved the park. I’d sit and wonder what the lives of the people I saw were like. Were they out for a jog after a stressful day? Or maybe they like feeding the ducks.
“Summer, you look wonderful. How are you holding up, dear?” Mrs. Harley asks, stepping away from the group that’s waiting for our arrival. She takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze. “We all miss Viv so much.”
“I’m all right, I guess. It’s a big adjustment.”
“I bet, why don’t—”
“Summer!” Dad calls from the table, gesturing not to the place next to him, but next to Grayson.
“Sorry,” I apologize, moving to take my place.
Grayson stands and pulls out the chair, holding it for me to sit. I try not to grimace as he slides the chair back in a little too fast, nailing me in the legs. A warm breeze comes in from the open windows, but icy talons claw their way down my back.
As we sit, a team of waiters circle the table, pouring sparkling water into champagne flutes. The maître d’, waves a hand with the air of a general, and a second group comes storming in with shining silver serving dishes. Dinner here is always wonderful. I just wish I could enjoy it without feeling like there’s a noose tightening around my throat.
They put a dish in front of me, and the waiter takes the lid, revealing a black plate designed to look like a little solar system. There’s a big yellow sphere in the center and smaller spheres radiating out in silvery orbit lines from the middle. Swirls of shimmery edible glitter give the impression of a solar system.
“Our starlight amuse-bouche,” says the maître d’. “Fruit juice infused spheres with a clear and fresh flavor to awaken your taste buds. Please enjoy.”
As his little army retreats, he backs out slowly and pulls the double doors shut, leaving our party alone with the first course and the uncomfortable energy swirling around Dad and Grayson.
There’s small talk, but I let it pass by me. I have nothing to say, and no matter how delicious the spheres are as they melt on my tongue, my stomach’s tight and out of sorts. There’s a buzz in the air, a quiet sizzle of warning. Am I the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on?
The waiters return, clearing the plates efficiently before a new squad darts in with the second course while the maître d’s smooth voice describes the edible flowers, micro greens and herb-infused foam in front of me. The dish is meticulously arranged and served on an elevated plate so it looks like a floating garden.
They go around the table, filling wine glasses with actual wine. I shoot a look at Dad. I know for a fact that he drinks occasionally, but it’s never part of these parties. Right up until the waiter is behind me, I expect Dad to put a hand over my glass, but he doesn’t.
“Dad, what’s going on?” I whisper.
“You’re not a child anymore, Summer. It’s time to step up and pull your weight.” Dad stands, holding up his wine glass. “I’d like to propose a toast. Two toasts, actually. The first, to my dear departed wife, Vivian. Her earthly pain is gone, and she’s in a better place. She touched our lives in so many ways, and I will miss her forever.”
I sip self-consciously. It’s not the first time I’ve had alcohol, but aside from Vivian buying a bottle of wine to have at dinner on my twenty-first, I’m not sure I ever have in front of Dad. It’s such a strange situation that I can’t even enjoy it.
Glasses are lowered, but Dad remains standing. “Nothing can make up for the grief of Vivian’s passing, but hopefully my second toast will brighten our spirits and shine a light towards the future.” His gaze falls on me, and while his tone is warm, there’s a warning in his eyes. I grip my glass tightly. “There will come a day—not for a long while yet, mind you—when it will be my privilege to pass the stewardship of the Hall of Grace to the next generation. To give the mantle to someone young, someone fresh.”