I smile back, glad for the distraction, and sidle up to the bar. It didn’t need much updating, though the tile on the floor is a larger version of what we used in the lake, and the liquor cases lining the wall behind Michael were illuminated to highlight the sunburst motif framing them. “More like having an out-of-body experience. How’s it going?”

“Beautiful chaos.” He resumes pouring a row of shots. “You girls get your bubbles?”

“Sure did. Thank you kindly.”

He smiles, then looks over my shoulder. “Esteban!” He points to the tray of shot glasses. “For island two.”

Esteban pulls the tray across the bar. “Why don’t the Russkies do bottle service? Always vashe zdorovie one round at a time.” He sends an air kiss my way. “Kitten, your parents are adorable, telling the Ivans all about their talented baby.”

I groan. “They haven’t been too mortifying, have they?” I step on the bottom rung of a bar stool to get a better view of the frontmost islands, where friends and family have been seated. My mom is on the catwalk chatting with a broad-shouldered man in a suit. She points toward the stage, and I smile. When my parents got in yesterday, I gave them a tour. Mom wasn’t able to fathom the barn wood, either.

“It’s cute,” says Esteban, offering me his hand as I step down from the stool. “They’ve been talking nonstop, pointing out details in the room. Your dad had them hunting for the tile kitten. It was precious.” He hefts the tray of shot glasses. “Careful. You may have some former KGB over for the holidays.”

He departs with the shots, and I finally make my way to the stairs up to the second floor. At the first landing, I find Charles pacing the short platform. I have to look away before I laugh outright. The guy is truly sunshine incarnate; even his anxious stride is optimistic.

“Bennet!” He holds up his hands with a wince. “Sorry. You’re Kitten right now. And what even is this outfit?”

I shimmy my shoulders. “It’s called a playsuit.”

“Ming?”

“Naturally. And how do you feel, sir?” I look over his jacket for any boxlike protrusions. “Nervous?”

Charles grins and reaches into his breast pocket, producing a shining platinum band dotted with tiny diamonds. I helped him pick out the engagement ring last month, but seeing it now, I press a hand to my chest in an earnest swoon. “High quality, with sparkle to spare. Just like our Jane.”

“I’m glad you’re here. I need a second opinion. I’m waiting until after the show. Maybe. I don’t want to distract him asking before he goes on, but I’m afraid that if I wait, I’ll throw myself onstage halfway through ‘It Had to Be You’ and propose then and there.” He wrinkles his nose. “What do you think?”