Page 105 of Unlocking Melodies

"It's perfect," I managed around the lump in my throat.

Elizabeth pulled me into a hug that smelled like expensive perfume and freshly baked pie. "You know," she said quietly, "I always wanted another son. Though I have to say, your timing could have been better. Eight years of watching Ethan mope around his penthouse was a bit excessive."

"To be fair," I couldn't help grinning, "your son's not exactly great at emotional communication. He sent me a cat before he could say 'I love you.'"

Her laugh was warm and real. "Oh honey, you should have seen him practicing that in front of his mirror. Harrison caught him once - I thought poor Ethan would spontaneously combust from embarrassment."

"Mom!" Ethan's protest carried across the festival grounds. "Are you telling embarrassing stories again?"

"Always," she called back cheerfully. "It's in the mother handbook. Chapter three: How to Lovingly Mortify Your Children.

I watched them banter, something warm blooming in my chest that had nothing to do with perfectly spiced pie. Elizabeth caught my expression and squeezed my hand.

"You're family now," she said softly. "All of this - the town, your father, that terrifying chicken that keeps attacking Harrison's Italian loafers - it's part of us too. Though I have to say, I never expected my son's love life to involve quite so many surveillance operations."

"Mrs. Henderson's very thorough," I admitted. "Pretty sure she's already planning our wedding. With color-coded spreadsheets."

"Oh, I know." Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with mischief. "We had coffee this morning. The venue suggestions are... extensive."

I nearly choked on my pie. "Please tell me you're joking."

"What kind of mother would I be if I didn't help plan my son's happily ever after?" She patted my cheek. "Now, about the floral arrangements..."

"Elizabeth." Harrison's voice cut through the wedding planning ambush with perfect timing. "I believe you're terrorizing our future son-in-law before he's even officially part of the family."

He appeared at my side like a corporate guardian angel, looking surprisingly at ease in what had to be the most casual outfit I'd ever seen him wear - though his idea of "festival casual" still probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"I'm not terrorizing," Elizabeth protested. "I'm planning. There's a difference."

"The color-coded binder under your arm suggests otherwise, dear." Harrison's smile held genuine warmth as he turned to me. "Jimmy, I believe Ethan's looking a bit lost trying to judge the pumpkin contest. Perhaps you could rescue him before Martha decides his shoes are offensive again?"

I shot him a grateful look. "Thanks. I mean, for the rescue. And the..." I gestured vaguely at the festival, at his acceptance, at everything.

"Go," he said softly. "Before she breaks out the Pinterest boards."

"I heard that," Elizabeth called after me as I made my strategic retreat. "This isn't over, young man! We still need to discuss centerpieces!"

Harrison's laugh followed me as I escaped. "Let the boy breathe, love. At least wait until after Ethan actually proposes."

If only he knew what his son had planned for later. But that was one secret I was happy to keep - at least for a few more hours.

But the sight that really got me was my father, deep in conversation with Ethan near the cider stand. They were actually laughing together, looking relaxed in a way I'd never imagined possible. The road to rebuilding trust had been bumpy (and occasionally involved hospital visits), but moments like this made it feel worth it.

My boots crunched through fallen leaves as I approached them. Ethan's eyes lit up when he saw me - still that same look from Practice Room C, like I was his favorite song. I couldn't help myself; I pulled him into a kiss that probably scandalized half the festival committee.

"Public displays of affection?" he murmured against my lips, his cheeks adorably flushed. "What will Mrs. Henderson's surveillance team think?"

"That her matchmaking skills deserve a raise," I shot back, before turning to my father.

For a moment we just looked at each other - so much history between us, good and bad and everything in between. Then I did something Past Jimmy would never have believed possible - I hugged him.

"Thanks for coming, Dad," I said softly, meaning more than just the festival.

His arms came around me, solid and real. No grand speeches, no elaborate explanations. Just a father and son, finding their way back to each other among pumpkins and fairy lights and the kind of love that builds itself piece by broken piece.

Evening settled over the festival like a cozy blanket, lanterns flickering to life in perfectly timed sequences (because Mrs. Henderson's lighting committee took their jobs very seriously). Ethan's hand found mine as we wandered through the transformed grounds, the music and laughter creating a soundtrack that felt almost magical.

"Nice night." Clark materialized beside us with his usual disregard for physics, casually munching on a candied apple like appearing out of thin air was totally normal. "You two look good together. Very storybook ending."

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