Page 33 of Hometown Heart

"Tell that to half my customers." He shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels. "Though I wouldn't say no to some actual protein now and then. Especially if it comes with company."

There it was, the invitation for a repeat engagement. Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and smiled. "Speaking of company, it looks like Cody's teaching Tyler how to make proper hot chocolate. Shannon sent a photo."

I held out my phone. The picture showed both boys in the MacPhersons' kitchen, faces screwed up in concentration as theymeasured cocoa powder. Whipped cream had somehow ended up on Tyler's nose.

Silas smiled. "Good to see him settling in and finding his place."

"Yeah." I studied the joy in my son's face and then looked back at Silas. "Seems to be something going around."

Our eyes met again.

Silas took a step back. "I should go. Early morning."

"Right. Yeah. Thanks for..." I gestured vaguely at the restaurant. "This was good."

"It was." He paused. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time, let me show you my grandmother's marinara recipe. I might be biased, but I think it's even more of a Maine treasure than the lobster rolls."

My pulse raced at the phrase next time. "Looking forward to it."

I watched Silas walk away, his figure gradually blending into the shadows between streetlights. Only after he turned the corner did I unlock my car, the keys steady in my hand despite the flutter in my stomach.

The drive home took less than ten minutes, but something had changed when I pulled into my driveway. The house didn't loom quite so empty. Instead, it appeared to be waiting—not just for Cody's return but for other possibilities. New stories. Fresh starts.

I smiled, remembering Silas's words about the display case. Some things needed time to reveal their true nature. To show what was waiting beneath the surface, ready to shine once you stripped away the old layers.

***

The next morning the MacPhersons' front door opened before I could knock, releasing a wave of warmth and the scent of chocolate. Cody bounded out, his overnight bag barely zipped, hockey stick poking out at an awkward angle.

"Dad! We made hot chocolate like Silas showed me! Well, almost like Silas—we didn't have any vanilla beans, but Mrs. MacPherson found some extract."

"You did a great job, bud." I caught his bag before it could slip off his shoulder. "Did you remember to thank Shannon?"

"Of course!" He turned to wave at Tyler's mom, who stood in the doorway smiling. "Thanks, Mrs. M! The shepherd's pie was awesome!"

"Anytime, sweetie. Jack, he was an absolute pleasure."

The morning air was unusually warm for February in Maine. Cody chattered the whole way to the car. It was a steady stream of movie commentary, hockey plays, and something about Tyler's cat lapping up whipped cream.

"—and then we tried to teach Max how to fetch a puck, but he sat there looking at us like we were crazy. Oh! Did you know Tyler's dad helps drive the Zamboni sometimes? How cool is that?"

I navigated Whistleport's quiet streets, letting Cody's enthusiasm wash over me.

"Dad? Can I ask you something?"

"Always."

He fiddled with the strap of his seatbelt. "How come you never have friends over? Like, at our house?"

The question caught me off guard. I checked the rearview mirror, finding his expression serious. "What makes you ask that?"

"Well... Tyler's house always has people coming over. His uncle stopped by to fix their sink and then stayed for dinner.And his mom's friend brought cookies just because." He paused. "Our house is nice, too. But it's always just us."

I turned onto our street, buying time to form an answer. "Moving to a new place takes time, bud. Making friends and getting comfortable doesn't happen overnight."

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