Rustic Hearts

“It is.”

The table at large agrees.

“Sophie helped,” Aunt Doreen acknowledges with pride.

“Only a little, but I did enjoy it.”

“You used to love helping Gram in the kitchen,” Daddy adds.

“She loved every minute of it too,” Pop adds.

“I remember,” I reply softly, and he squeezes my hand once more.

After we all finish and dessert has been served, Emmett breaks out a bottle of wine.

“None for me,” I say as I cover my glass.

“We’re celebrating our Elle girl’s paper. You have to have at least a sip,” he says as he gives me a wink.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of a lightweight with alcohol.”

“One cup won’t kill you,” he murmurs conspiratorially and grins at me.

“Okay, one,” I concede.

They all lift their glasses as Aunt Ria gushes about the essay Elle wrote. She beams with pride. It must have been nice, growing up with a large, supportive family who toasted your every achievement. All I had was my mom, and she was more a fan of my extracurricular activities. She never showed much interest in my grades, much less a single paper.

A tinge of jealousy rears its head, and I tamp it down. It’s not Elle’s fault my mother is so self-absorbed. It’s not any of these people’s fault. Mom is who she is.

So, I tuck in my irrational crazy and raise my glass with them as we congratulate the lucky girl who is Jefferson Lancaster’s replacement daughter. Then, I excuse myself before I say anything to ruin the otherwise pleasant evening.