Page 95 of Resisting the Grump

At least, I thought that was her motivation. But when I realized her mom hadn’t been to the café since she hung the Star Baker award in the window, her suggestion that we host it here made even more sense.

For everyone else, it was a peaceful party full of pastries and pleasantries. But for Grace, it was an opportunity to show her mom that she was all grown up. That she and Kayleigh and the café were going to be okay. That she’d built a meaningful life filled with love.

And her mom got the message loud and clear. I could tell because I lost track of how many times her smiling eyes went glassy with gratitude. It was a beautiful thing. For both of them.

As for the tea party theme, that was my idea, and it was going even better than expected. Making the event informal meant people could stop by when it was convenient and express their congratulations without getting roped into a whole evening. As a result, the crowd never became overwhelming, so Grace and Noah could actually enjoy the event and each other. Best of all, decorating the small space was sinfully simple. I set some white and gold balloon clusters in the corners and scattered a selection of gorgeous cake stands in the center topped with tantalizing treats et voilà!

It was genius, and it looked good, too.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Grace said, sidling up to me as she soaked up the smiles of her favorite people. “But I’m really glad you did.”

“We should start offering tea service,” I said. “Make it exclusive to Sundays or something. People will pay through the nose to have miniature treats served on tiny towers.”

“Hmmm.” She squinted at the nearby cake stands like she was trying to calculate the profit potential of fresh cucumber sandwiches. “I suppose people who can’t afford to treat themselves to The Abbott regularly would still love to have an afternoon tea habit.”

“Definitely,” I said. “Those little old ladies who always come in here to scarf your scones? If each of them told one person at their respective bridge clubs…”

“I think they are a bridge club.”

“Oh. Well, their bingo friends then. Whatever.”

“It would be a great way to use the leftover champagne.”

I laughed. “Leftover champagne. Good one.”

“We are going through it.” Her eyes strayed toward the collection of empty bottles behind the counter. “But if we started offering high tea, we’d have an excuse to get more and keep it chilled.”

“For emergencies,” I said conspiratorially.

“Yes,” she said, clinking my glass against hers. “For emergencies.”

I took a sip and looked back at her just in time to catch her beaming at Noah across the room, so I redirected my attention to the gorgeous square cut diamond on her finger.

Her eyes crinkled when she caught me admiring her ring, and she indulged us both, splaying her fingers out and tilting them so it caught the light.

“Makes you look all grown up,” I said.

“I feel all grown up.”

“In a good way?”

She nodded.

“If Captain Hook showed up right now and offered to whisk you off to Never Never Land, would you go?”

She shook her head. “No. I’d tell him he was too late, and that I’m happy here with my always, always man.”

“Wow.” I couldn’t help but smile. “And I thought the caprese sandwiches were cheesy.”

“Speaking of growing up,” she said, nudging me gently. “How are things going with Oliver?”

I took a deep breath and savored the joy of not knowing where to start. For so many years, my relationships had been comedy relief for others, but this one was so different. Now, I was the one who felt relieved. Reenergized. Respected.

“Have you said the big L word yet?”

Only in body language, I thought, shaking my head.

“You haven’t seen it, then?”

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