Chapter 105: Opening Day

The ancestral home had never looked so busy.

Alexander realized that before he even reached the front steps.

Cars lined the designated parking area.

Several guests stood near the garden taking photographs.

One of the Shih Tzus had somehow acquired a ribbon around its neck and was greeting arrivals with the enthusiasm of someone convinced the entire business existed purely in his honor.

Tomas Reyes stood near the entrance directing guests with the solemn competence of a man who had spent decades preparing for exactly this kind of chaos without knowing it.

"Sir, Alex."

Alex stepped inside.

"How bad?"

Tomas considered.

"Your mother says excellent."

"And you?"

"The kitchen ran out of one kind of bread forty minutes ago."

"So bad."

"Promisingly bad."

Alex laughed.

The months of preparation had paid off.

The ancestral home had been transformed carefully, not completely.

Three guest rooms had been renovated.

The private family wing remained separate.

The old sitting room near the veranda had become a modest café area, while additional tables sat outside in the shade.

The menu was exactly what Rosalie wanted.

Bread.

Pastries.

Breakfast plates.

A few sandwiches.

Soup.

Simple drinks.

Nothing enormous.

Nothing pretending to be a full restaurant.

And apparently, everyone had decided to arrive on opening day.

"Where’s Mom?"

"Kitchen."

"Dad?"

"Front counter."

Alex stopped.

"My father?"

Tomas nodded.

"Taking orders."

"I need to see that."

He hadn’t made it three steps before someone called his name.

"Alex."

He turned.

Giovanni stood near the doorway.

For half a second, the room seemed much quieter.

He looked different.

Not dramatically.

A little more rested, perhaps.

Slightly tanned.

Travel had apparently done something useful.

Giovanni smiled.

"Hi."

Alex smiled back.

"You’re back."

"Obviously."

"How was the flight?"

"Long."

"Japan?"

"Still there."

"Good to know."

Neither seemed to know what to say next.

Which was absurd considering they’d talked constantly while apart.

Then Giovanni held out a small paper bag.

"For you."

Alex took it.

"What is it?"

"Research."

"That’s ominous."

He opened it.

The restoration book.

Alex looked at the cover.

Then at Giovanni.

"You bought this?"

"Research."

"So a gift."

"No."

"You paid for it."

"Business development."

"My business doesn’t exist."

"Then conceptual development."

Alex smiled.

"You could just say you’re welcome."

"You’re welcome."

There.

Normal again.

Rosalie found them together ten minutes later.

"Good. You’re both here."

That was apparently all the greeting they needed.

She grabbed Giovanni’s arm.

"Kitchen."

He blinked.

"I just arrived."

"Excellent. You’re fresh."

Alex laughed.

Giovanni looked at him.

"Help."

"She’s my mother."

"Exactly."

Rosalie dragged him away.

Alex followed, still laughing.

The kitchen was chaos.

Not disaster.

Functional chaos.

Two employees were plating pastries.

Another was working on coffee.

Someone had miscalculated how quickly the morning bread would sell.

Rosalie looked simultaneously exhausted and thrilled.

"We need another batch."

Giovanni stared.

"Now?"

"Yes."

"Proofing time?"

"Already started."

She pointed.

Giovanni looked toward the dough.

Then rolled up his sleeves.

Alex stopped laughing.

"You’re actually helping?"

Giovanni looked at him.

"I bake."

"I know you bake."

"You sound surprised."

"I’ve never seen you bake."

"Then today is educational."

Rosalie shoved an apron at him.

Giovanni put it on.

It fit badly.

Alex immediately took out his phone.

"Don’t."

"Too late."

Click.

Giovanni stared.

"Delete that."

"Never."

Alejandro appeared at the kitchen doorway holding an order pad.

That sight nearly finished Alex.

"Dad."

"What?"

"You’re taking orders."

"Yes."

"You ran Vance Holdings."

"And now table six wants two coffees and a ham sandwich."

Alex looked toward Giovanni.

Giovanni was already laughing.

Alejandro pointed the pen at both of them.

"If you’re standing, you’re working."

"I just arrived too," Alex protested.

"Wonderful. You’re fresh."

Alex looked at Giovanni.

"She said the same thing."

"They planned it."

Rosalie didn’t bother denying anything.

Five minutes later, Alexander Vance, CEO of Vance Holdings, was carrying plates toward the veranda.

No title.

No executive assistant.

No security hovering beside him.

Just Alex balancing breakfast plates while one Shih Tzu attempted to follow.

At table four, a guest stared.

"Are you Alexander Vance?"

Alex set down the plates.

"Today I’m apparently a waiter."

The guest laughed.

"Can we get more coffee?"

"Of course."

He walked away.

Oddly enough, he enjoyed it.

Giovanni took over part of the pastry production with alarming competence.

Rosalie watched him shape dough.

"You really can bake."

"I told you."

"I thought you meant casually."

"I worked in bakeries."

"Years ago."

"Hands remember."

Alex appeared in the doorway carrying empty plates.

"Apparently everything remembers except his ability to stay away from work on vacation."

Giovanni looked over.

"This is not work."

"You’re wearing an apron."

"So?"

"Evidence."

Rosalie handed Alex a tray.

"Stop bothering my baker."

Alex stared.

"Your baker?"

"Go."

He went.

Giovanni smiled.

Something deeply satisfying about seeing Alex in this environment.

No suit.

Sleeves rolled.

Hair slightly out of place.

Moving between tables with none of the distance he carried at Vance Holdings.

Giovanni realized he’d missed seeing him in person.

The thought came so simply that he didn’t bother arguing with it.

By midafternoon, the worst rush had eased.

Alex found Giovanni near the back door drinking water.

"Still alive?"

"Barely."

"Japan didn’t prepare you?"

"Japan had staff."

"So does this place."

"Your mother doesn’t believe that."

Alex leaned against the wall.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Giovanni said, "Your pictures made school look busy."

"It is."

"Same architect still attached to your hip?"

Alex stared.

"What?"

Giovanni immediately regretted everything.

"Nothing."

"No. Repeat that."

"I said your group looked busy."

"You said, architect."

"Did I?"

"Giovanni."

Alex’s mouth slowly curved.

"Julian?"

"Is that his name?"

"You know it’s his name."

"I may have seen the tag."

"Several times?"

Giovanni drank water.

Alex watched him.

Then, mercifully, Rosalie called from inside.

"Gio!"

He immediately straightened.

"Work."

"Coward."

"Busy."

He escaped.

Alex remained against the wall, smiling to himself.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

By closing time, everyone was exhausted.

The opening had exceeded Rosalie’s expectations.

Some guests had already asked about weekend bookings.

Two rooms were reserved for the following month.

Several people ordered bread to take home.

Nothing had collapsed.

No one had been poisoned.

The Shih Tzus had only stolen food twice.

Success.

Rosalie sat at the veranda table and looked around.

Alejandro dropped into the chair beside her.

"Happy?"

She looked at him.

"Very."

"Good."

"We survived."

"Barely."

She laughed.

Across the yard, Alex and Giovanni were carrying the last empty trays inside.

Rosalie watched them.

Then looked at Alejandro.

"They came."

"Of course they did."

"Both of them."

Alejandro followed her gaze.

"They’re good boys."

"Boys?"

"They’ll always be boys here."

Rosalie smiled.

Perhaps that was true.

For one day, the ancestral home had made room for them all to become something simpler.

Not CEOs.

Not people carrying scandals, old grief, or inherited expectations.

Just family.

And friends who had somehow found their way back.