Page 101 of Nesting With My Three Alphas
"How much funding?" I asked, though the number was less important than the validation the grant represented.
"Enough to hire two additional teachers, fund supplies for twelve communities, and develop a comprehensive training program for rural arts educators." Kit's voice was gaining strength as the reality sank in. "They want me to present at their annual conference. They want to feature the program in their newsletter. They want to..."
She stopped abruptly, the letter fluttering to the counter as she buried her face in her hands.
"Kit? Are you okay?"
"I'm having a moment," she said, her voice muffled. "This is really happening. This thing I started because Mrs. Parker suggested helping beginners, it's becoming something real and important and..."
"And you deserve every bit of it," I finished firmly. "You took an idea and turned it into something that helps people. You built community connections and gave people confidence and created art where there wasn't art before."
She looked up at me with eyes that were bright with unshed tears, the happy kind, according to Charlie's taxonomy.
"I need to call them back," she said. "There are meetings to schedule and contracts to review and I need to figure out how to expand without losing what makes it special here."
"Good problems to have," I said, pulling her into another hug. "And you don't have to figure it all out today."
"No, but I need to figure out how to tell Reed and Jonah and Charlie without completely losing my composure."
"I think they can handle you having feelings about good news."
Kit laughed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her paint-stained hand. "This is going to make tonight even more overwhelming."
"Tonight is about celebrating how far you've come and how much you mean to all of us. This grant just proves that the rest of the world is starting to catch up to what we've known all along."
"Which is?"
"That you're extraordinary. That what you create matters. That you're exactly who you're supposed to be, doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing."
The afternoon passed in a blur of excitement and planning, with Kit alternating between reading the grant letter and trying to process the magnitude of what it meant for her future. By the time we closed the bakery and headed home, she was practically vibrating with nervous energy.
"I can't decide if I'm more excited or terrified," she said as we pulled into our driveway, where Charlie's banner, visible from space, just as Jonah had predicted, proclaimed "HAPPY ANNIVERSARY KIT AND FAMILY" in letters that sparkled with enough glitter to supply a craft store.
"Both is good," I said. "Both means it matters."
The party was everything Charlie had envisioned and more. The barn had been transformed into something magical. Fairy lights strung from every beam, tables arranged to encourage mingling, and enough food to feed the entire county. What looked like half of Hollow Haven had shown up to celebrate, bringing potluck dishes and congratulations and the kind of community warmth that had become Kit's new normal.
But it was Charlie's surprise that really made the evening special.
"Kit!" she called over the crowd, her voice pitched to carry across the entire gathering. "I have something for you!"
The conversations died down as Charlie positioned herself in the center of the barn, holding a wrapped package that was clearly art-related.
"I've been working on this for weeks," she announced with the confidence of someone who knew she'd created something important. "It's all of us, but the way Kit sees us."
Kit opened the package with careful hands, revealing a collage of us, not as we looked in photos, but as she painted us: Jonah's steady strength, Reed's protective mischief, my nurturing focus, Charlie's bright spirit, and Kit herself glowing with the confidence and joy she'd grown into over the past year.
"Oh, sweetheart," Kit whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "This is perfect. This is exactly how I see all of you."
"Because that's how you taught me to see," Charlie said seriously. "You taught me that art shows people's hearts, not just their faces."
The happy tears that followed were legendary, even by Charlie's comprehensive standards. But they were good tears, the kind that came from being seen and understood and loved exactly as you were.
Later, after the guests had gone home and the fairy lights still twinkled in the empty barn, our pack sat on the back porch sharing the stories and memories that had accumulated over the year. Kit was curled up in her favorite chair, still clutching Charlie's artwork and the grant letter, looking overwhelmed in the best possible way.
"So," Reed said, raising his beer in a mock toast, "here's to year two. Think we can top this one?"
"I hope not," Kit said immediately, then caught herself. "I mean, I hope it's just as good, but maybe with slightly less drama and life-changing revelations."
