Wrapped in Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 4)

Mom flashes a look to me, a single gray eyebrow arched. My siblings have made enough comments over the last few months that I can guess what she’s thinking.

“This is Molly’s project,” I say, reading the question in her eyes. “She made the decisions. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said this wasn’t going to be another responsibility on my plate.”

“Don’t believe him.” Molly laughs, shifting Noah in her arms as she leads the way to the hall that runs behind the kitchen and banquet center. “He keeps careful tabs on everything I do here, so the banquet center has definitely added work to his plate.” She shrugs. “But it’s true that he let me have the reins and gave me the final say on design. I know—wonders never cease.”

Mom huffs. “To say the least. But maybe he just needed someone like you in his—”

“I’m working on it,” I say, flashing a warning look to Mom. I’m really not in the mood to fight her matchmaker instincts today.

“Our offices are all off this hallway,” Molly says, pointing out each. “Levi’s, mine, and Brayden’s.”

“You’ve finally given yourself an office away from home,” Mom says. She squeezes my wrist. “It’s about time.”

I never wanted an office at the bar, even when Jake offered to give up his apartment for me to set up shop above Jackson Brews. It seemed easier and quieter to work from home, but not having a work space for business meetings has been an obstacle over the years. When we were designing this space, Molly suggested I could put my office here and hold meetings in the small conference room. It made sense, and it seems like it’s going to work out great.

“Down at the end of the hall is the stairwell,” Molly says. “You can take them up to get to the employee entrance of the rooftop terrace, and down to get to the locker room and break room in the basement.”

Noah wiggles in her arms. “Down,” he says, wiggling with more vigor until Molly sets him on the floor.

“On the other side of the stairwell,” she says, pointing, “is the storage room, and beyond that, a kitchenette that leads into two smaller party rooms and the small conference room. Off the hall opposite that is the main banquet hall.”

I lead the way, opening the door just as Noah races past me and into the big, empty room. The lights are off, but the wall of windows overlooking the lake provides enough light to illuminate the vast space.

“Oh, it’s absolutely stunning!” Mom scans the room as if she can imagine what it’ll look like when it’s set for a reception—the floor filled with tables and fine linens, the far alcove made into a dance floor, the rustic wooden rafters overhead draped in tulle. I was never very good at imagining such things, but once the space was ready, Molly had it set up, and a photographer came in to take pictures for the website. Now potential clients don’t have to use their imagination. They can see for themselves how every detail was planned for elegance.

Noah races to the alcove at the end of the room and shakes his booty. “This is where you dance!”

Molly grins, and a little sound escapes, like she’s biting back a laugh. “That’s right, Noah.”

“Come dance with me, Kathleen!” he calls.

Mom watches him with the same delight I see on her face when she’s around my niece, Lilly. “You’ve done a spectacular job, Molly,” she says, and I’m not sure if she’s talking about the banquet center or Noah. Probably both, and I would have to agree.

“Thank you,” Molly says.

Mom heads to the sunny alcove to dance with Noah, and Molly shifts her gaze to me. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing him in. I wanted to spend a little time with him before I have to go house hunting. I didn’t think anyone else would be here.”

“I don’t mind at all.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “House hunting?”

“Rental hunting, at least. There isn’t much available in my budget. After looking at them online, I’m not very hopeful.” With a sigh, she shrugs. “Can’t hurt to look, right?”

“Right.” I follow her gaze to where Mom is doing her best funky chicken. Noah laughs so hard that he drops to the floor in delight. “Let me know how I can help.”

She shakes her head. “It’ll be fine. We’ve been through worse.”

I know it’s true, but that doesn’t mean I like it.

Some of the worry on her face fades as she studies her son. “Come on, Noah. We have to get going.”

The boy folds his arms and pouts. “Aww! Why, Mom?”

“Because Veronica’s waiting.”

He lights up at the mention of his babysitter and races across the room to his mom.

“I’ll lock it all up on my way out,” I say.