Chapter 12 - FORTY-TWO LIGHTS
The first community supper at Brooks Manor was scheduled for a Saturday evening in October.
Nora insisted that it would not be a charity spectacle.
“No photographers,” she told Sebastian.
“Fine.”
“No speeches about generosity.”
“Fine.”
“No expensive gift bags.”
He looked offended.
“I hadn't planned gift bags.”
Nora raised an eyebrow.
Sebastian smiled.
“All right. I considered them.”
She laughed.
“The idea is simple. People bring something if they can. Nobody has to explain if they can't.”
Harold approved immediately.
“Margaret would have liked that.”
Evelyn offered bread from The Common Table.
Mrs. Porter organized seating.
Ruby made handwritten place cards.
Sebastian learned how to move chairs without asking three employees to do it for him.
By Saturday afternoon, the mansion smelled of roasting vegetables, fresh bread, cinnamon, and apple pie.
For the first time in years, the front gates remained open to invited guests arriving throughout the afternoon.
There were neighbors.
A retired schoolteacher.
Several community volunteers.
Friends of Evelyn's bakery.
Two families whose children attended Ruby's school.
Dr. Reyes.
And Mrs. Porter, who had finally agreed to sit at the table rather than serve it.
At six thirty, Harold entered the dining room.
He stopped in the doorway.
All forty-two bulbs in the chandelier were lit.
But this time, they illuminated something more valuable than polished silver.
People.
Every chair was occupied.
There were conversations, laughter, children asking for rolls, and someone near the end of the table arguing that pumpkin pie was better than apple pie.
Harold looked overwhelmed.
Sebastian approached.
“Dad?”
Harold swallowed.
“I haven't seen this room like this in years.”
“Too much?”
Harold shook his head.
“No.”
He smiled through tears.
“Just enough.”
Dinner began with Nora's chicken stew.
Then came cornbread, roasted carrots, green beans, and Evelyn's sourdough.
Harold insisted on standing long enough to say a few words.
Sebastian looked worried.
Dr. Reyes nodded gently.
Harold held the back of his chair for balance.
“I don't make speeches anymore,” he began.
Someone laughed.
“My son makes enough speeches for both of us.”
The room erupted.
Sebastian bowed his head dramatically.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Harold smiled.
“Four years ago, I lost my wife.”
His voice trembled.
“I thought the best part of my life was over.”
The room quieted.
“I stopped eating properly. I stopped visiting people. I stopped letting anyone see how much I missed her.”
He looked toward Nora.
“Then this woman arrived and burned my breakfast.”
Laughter filled the room.
Nora covered her face.
Harold continued.
“She reminded me that a person can be grieving and still be hungry. Still want to laugh. Still want somebody to sit beside them.”
His eyes moved toward Evelyn and Sebastian.
“And she reminded my children that families don't become strong by pretending nobody ever gets hurt.”
He paused.
“They become strong by coming back to the table.”
Sebastian's eyes filled.
Harold lifted his glass of water.
“To Margaret.”
Everyone raised their glasses.
“To Margaret.”
Later, Nora found Sebastian standing near the kitchen doorway.
He was watching his father teach Ruby how to fold a napkin into a ridiculous approximation of a swan.
“You look happy,” she said.
He turned.
“I am.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
He hesitated.
“Nora, may I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“When you first came here, did you think we were hopeless?”
She considered the question.
“A little.”
He laughed.
“Only a little?”
“A great deal.”
He shook his head.
“Fair enough.”
She looked toward Harold.
“But I never thought your father was hopeless.”
“Why?”
“Because he still remembered how much he loved your mother.”
Sebastian nodded.
“And you?”
She looked surprised.
“What about me?”
“Did you think I was hopeless?”
Nora studied his face.
“You were difficult.”
“That's generous.”
“You were arrogant.”
“Less generous.”
“And you thought paying for things was the same as caring for people.”
Sebastian looked down.
She continued softly.
“But you were willing to learn.”
He looked at her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he asked, “Would you have dinner with me sometime?”
Nora smiled.
“We're having dinner right now.”
“I meant somewhere else.”
Her expression changed.
He looked suddenly nervous.
“Not as your employer. Not as some business arrangement.”
Nora was quiet.
Sebastian continued.
“I'd like to take you on a date. If you want that too.”
She looked toward Ruby, who was laughing with Harold.
Then back at Sebastian.
“I need to think about how that affects my work and my daughter.”
He nodded immediately.
“Of course.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then you say no.”
She studied him.
The man she had met months earlier would have tried to solve uncertainty with an expensive gesture.
This Sebastian simply waited.
Nora smiled.
“Then ask me again after we've cleaned up.”
His face brightened.
“Is that a yes?”
“It's a maybe.”
He laughed.
“I'll take it.”
Near midnight, after the final guest left, Sebastian helped Nora wash the serving dishes.
The chandelier still glowed above the long table.
Harold had gone upstairs, exhausted but content.
Ruby was asleep on a sofa beneath Margaret's yellow quilt.
Mrs. Porter had finally gone home.
Sebastian dried a plate.
Nora rinsed another.
Then he asked softly, “How about that dinner?”
She turned toward him.
“Are you really willing to do this slowly?”
“Yes.”
“No grand gestures?”
“I'll try.”
“No deciding what's best for me?”
“Never again.”
She smiled.
“All right.”
Sebastian stared.
“All right?”
“One date.”
He laughed.
“Where would you like to go?”
Nora considered.
“Somewhere with good food and uncomfortable chairs.”
He frowned.
“Why uncomfortable chairs?”
“Because then you'll have to focus on the conversation instead of the furniture.”
May you like
Sebastian laughed so hard he nearly dropped the plate.
And above them, all forty-two bulbs burned brightly.
