Chapter 10 - The Seat at the Table
Six months later. November.
The dining room of our craftsman house smelled of roasted turkey, sage stuffing, and fresh cranberry sauce. The large oak table in the center of the room was set for ten people.
There were gold candles glowing brightly in the center. There was polished silver that had belonged to my grandfather. And beside each plate sat a hand-carved wooden place card holder.
My father sat at the far end, carving the turkey with a contented, relaxed smile on his face. Rebecca Sloan sat to his left, reviewing a set of foundation grants on her phone before sheepishly putting it away under my stern look. Aunt Patricia was placing warm rolls into a basket near the center.
I stood at the doorway, wearing an apron, watching the room fill with warmth, chatter, and the unhurried comfort of people who truly wanted to be there.
Nora walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray of small silver place cards she had spent the entire morning making.
She walked around the table slowly, carefully placing each card beside a plate.
MARTIN. REBECCA. PATRICIA. CLAIRE.
And then she reached the head of the table—the largest, most comfortable armchair in the room, positioned right beside mine.
She placed her own card right in front of it.
NORA HARPER – DAUGHTER & HEIR.
She looked up at me, a mischievous, radiant grin flashing across her face.
"Is this seat taken, Mom?" she asked softly.
I walked over, pulled the heavy oak chair out just far enough for her to slide in comfortably, and leaned down to kiss the top of her head.
"This seat was built for you, Nora," I said, my voice strong, steady, and filled with a peace that no storm could ever shake again. "And it’s yours for the rest of your life."
May you like
She sat down, pulled her knees up close to the table, and reached for my hand as my father raised his glass to offer a toast to the home we had built from the ashes of the past.
Outside, the autumn wind rustled the oak leaves against the windowpane, but inside, the fire burned bright, the table was full, and not a single chair was pulled away.
