“Don’t you dare dismiss me. You will not bail out on any of your commitments. You need the town’s support, especially with all the pushback on your new building design. I’ve been making friends with all the powers-to-be, but you gotta stop mistaking your sarcasm for humor. You’re gonna burn every bridge before we can even create one.” She then turns to me, her suggestion catching me off guard. “You know what? Kerry, you should accompany Vic to all of these engagements he keeps trying to avoid. I’m sure you know the City Manager, Jeffrey Jones, right?”

Stammering slightly, I reply, “Uh, yes, I do, actually. I taught both of his children, and his wife and I used to organize the town’s Fall Festival together every year.”

Vicky beams. “That’s perfect! Would you mind being my socially inappropriate son’s date to that dinner and a few other engagements over the next few months? This town’s been pushing back on the build, the T.V. show, everything! Vic’s attitude is the main reason why so your hometown connections might help sway things in our favor.”

Vic looks torn between frustration and resignation. “Mom, you can’t just volunteer Kerry to do that.” He protests, though his tone lacks conviction.

Shrugging off any hesitation, I assure him, “It’s no trouble at all. I’d be happy to help. Besides, the town already seems to think I’m your…” I pause, glancing at the girls and opting for discretion, “…special friend.”

Vic, caught off guard by my willingness, lets a genuine smile break through his usually reserved demeanor. “Well, then, it’s settled. If you really don’t mind the boring affairs of business dinners and fake smiles, I’d appreciate your company.”

“Not at all, Mr. Grimes. I’m all in,” I affirm, my voice steady yet revealing a hint of excitement. “Feel free to use me up.” The words slip out more flirtatiously than intended, and a low chuckle escapes his lips, sending a warm thrill through me. I catch the way his eyes linger on me, a spark of something unspoken but electric hanging between us.

But just as we seem to drift closer in our little bubble, Ari’s innocent question slices through the thickening air. “So, Ms. Kind, are you married?” She asks with a child’s straightforward curiosity.

The question jolts me, and I nearly choke on my salad, caught completely off guard. “Uh, I used to be,” I manage to say, my voice a little hoarse from the surprise.

“Did he die like our mom?” Syd blurts out.

The table falls deathly silent, and I catch Vic’s look, laden with pain and discomfort.

He drops his fork, the clatter stark against the silence, and his face tightens. “Syd,” he admonishes gently, his voice low and strained with barely held patience, “we’ve discussed keeping family matters private.”