Chapter 10 - A Table for Two
One year later, the brass bell at Harper’s Table chimed under a bright, warm May sun.
The restaurant was unrecognizable from its tired, neglected days, yet it retained all of its soul. The original wood floors had been restored to a rich honey glow, the gingham tablecloths had been upgraded to crisp woven linen, and the air smelled of freshly baked yeast rolls, caramelized onions, and roasted garlic.
At the host stand stood Arthur Vance, sporting a tailored gray suit with a miniature veteran ribbon pinned to his lapel. His cheeks were full, his silver hair neatly styled, and his posture was as straight as a flagpole.
“Table for two, folks? Right this way,” Arthur greeted an incoming couple with a wide, proud smile.
Sitting in the sunlit corner booth by the front window was Helen Miller. Her color was vibrant, her heart was beating strong thanks to specialized care funded through Marissa’s executive health coverage, and she was happily chatting with Sarah the chef over a slice of lemon meringue pie.
Marissa walked out of the manager's office, holding a clipboard with the monthly quarterly audit.
Harper’s Table had just posted its highest revenue in its thirty-year history, while simultaneously serving over seven thousand free nutritious meals to the local community through its foundation kitchen.
She paused near the entrance, looking out over the crowded, happy room.
Her phone buzzed. It was a message from Ethan:
*“Look out the window.”*
Marissa looked through the polished glass.
Parked across the street was Ethan’s dark sedan, but he wasn’t sitting in the back. He was standing on the sidewalk, holding a bouquet of white peonies—her favorite flowers. He wore an open-collared navy shirt, looking relaxed, happy, and entirely unburdened by the pressures of his corporate empire.
Over the past year, their business relationship had naturally, inevitably deepened into something far more intimate. There had been long dinners after closing, walks through Lincoln Park in the snow, quiet conversations where two people who had grown up fighting the world realized they didn't have to fight it alone anymore.
Marissa handed her clipboard to the head server, smoothed her sundress, and walked out the front door.
The bell chimed behind her.
Ethan crossed the street to meet her on the sidewalk, handing her the bouquet with that rare, brilliant smile reserved only for her.
“You’re late for lunch,” Marissa teased, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers.
“I had an acquisition meeting downtown,” Ethan said, his gray eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. “Nolan wanted me to look at another property in River North.”
“And what did you say?”
Ethan reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek, warm and steady.
“I told him I’m not interested in empires today,” Ethan murmured softly. “I just want lunch with the woman who owns my heart.”
May you like
Marissa smiled—a radiant, unforced, completely happy smile. She took his hand, their fingers intertwining naturally.
“Come inside then, Mr. Calloway,” she said softly, leading him back toward the door. “Table Twelve has been waiting for you all day.”
