“It’s where I live, where I make my home.”

“Nag the girl while you finish setting the table,” Mrs. Grady ordered. “I haven’t got all day.”

“We’re eating on the terrace because, holiday.” Mac picked up a stack of plates, shaking her head when Carter started to take them from her. “Uh-uh, cutie. Grab something unbreakable.”

“Good thought.”

“We’re having mimosas, like grown-ups.” Emma handed Carter the bread basket. “What this is, is a prelude for our vacation next month, where every day’s a holiday”

“I’ll tend bar.” Jack hefted the champagne and a pitcher of orange juice.

“Someone should’ve woken me up. I’d have given you a hand with this, Mrs. G.”

“Under control.” Mrs. Grady flicked her spatula. “Get the rest out there.We’ll be ready in two minutes.”

“Nice start to the day.” Laurel glanced at Del as they carried platters outside. “Your idea?”

“Who wants to be inside on a day like this?”

Laurel remembered how often there’d been fun summer meals on the terrace when she’d visited as a child. Flowers, good dishes, and easy company on lovely, lazy mornings.

They’d already put tables together to accommodate the whole group, draped them in pretty cloths, and, yes, there were flowers and good dishes, and the sparkle of crystal in the morning sunlight.

She’d forgotten what it was to indulge like this with nothing more pressing on the day than enjoyment.

She took the glass Jack offered her. “Thanks.”Took a sip. “You could have a career.”

He gave her hair a friendly tug. “A fallback’s always good.”

When Mrs. G came out with the last platter, Del took it from her. “Head of the table for you, Waffle Queen.”

Of course she loved him, Laurel thought, watching as he fussed over Mrs. Grady until she was settled with a mimosa in her hand. How could she help it?

She stepped up, kissed his cheek. “Good job.”

It would be like this from now on, she realized. Oh, not Belgian waffles and mimosas on the terrace. But this group, this family. These voices, these faces, on holidays and impromptu family meals.

Voices crisscrossed the table along with the food. A sliver of waffle for Emma, fruit for Parker while she talked to Carter about a book they’d both read recently. Heaps of whipped cream for Mac, and Del arguing with Jack about a call on a baseball game.

“What’s on your mind, girl?” Mrs. Grady asked her.

“Hardly anything. It’s a nice change.”

Mrs. Grady leaned over, lowered her voice. “Are you going to show them the design you just worked up?”

“Should I?”

“Eat first.”