Page 139 of Just for Tonight

Cavendish Enterprises is poised to grow and flourish, too, a change I could never have orchestrated on my own. Even Ethan is putting in a solid day’s work and participating as one of the team. Jake’s fixed all of that and I’m so glad we’re working together now.

There are a lot of flowers in the church, beautiful arrangements in shades of white and yellow. The picture of Dad that hangs over the fireplace in his study is here, too, brought along for the celebration of life. He looks over us as if he’s counting the number in attendance.

When Jake rises to give the eulogy, I see him in a new way. He’s still my brother, but he’s not my rival anymore. He’s not as infuriating as he used to be, and maybe I’m not to him either. We’re both adults and I see him as a man now – competent, assured, smart. He looks elegant and expensive, confident, exactly the way my father would have expected.

My father should have been proud of Jake. I hope he was.

I wonder how much of what I see today is the result of Mackenzie being in Jake’s life. She’s been right beside him through all these arrangements and is seated beside him, too. They look like the power couple they are, those two, in their impeccably tailored dark suits and perfect haircuts. They’re cool and professional, but I have to believe that things heat up in private between them.

I’m not sure I could get up and give a coherent speech to all these people, but Jake makes it look easy. I’m better in the greenhouses, swearing when things go wrong, making choices to get it all back on track, deciding in the moment and steering the course to the future. Jake’s about the planning and the appearances, the big plan and the money. It’s okay that we’re different. I appreciate him now as I didn’t before. He’s not without emotion – I see him choke up a couple of times – and I get it. The mingling of grief and resolution is something we have in common and always will.

He clears his throat after the usual accolades and frowns a little. “My father was a man who knew what he wanted, and who prided himself on figuring out how to get it. Patrick was a force of nature – ambitious, clever and persistent. He was a visionary and a man who didn’t take no for an answer.”

A little ripple of acknowledgement passes through the gathering at that, and I wonder if anyone in Empire managed to avoid crossing swords with my father.

Probably not.

“He always was a man who didn’t appreciate diversions. He had no ability to take pleasure in happenstance, in any good occurrence or stroke of fortune that he hadn’t meticulously planned himself. Patrick saw such incidents as a lack of control on his part, or maybe a failure to anticipate all the possibilities, and that’s one thing I regret for him.” I watch Jake’s throat work before he continues. “There is a saying that as Canadians, we should find joy in the snow, because if we don’t, we’ll have just as much snow and a lot less joy.”

That earns a rueful laugh.

“And as I wrote this tribute to my father’s life and his legacy, I thought of that. Patrick hated the snow. He railed against it every year. He could not understand how we, as boys, loved it. We loved the snow because it meant snowball fights and forts, and maybe even days off school. It meant pulling the toboggan over to the big hill behind our place and Rhodes Vineyards. It meant hot chocolate when we got home and a lot of fun. I still remember those days fondly, but my dad saw them as unwelcome interruptions to his routine. He saw snow as the cause of shipping delays, and overstock at the greenhouses, the reason for stalled cars and people being late for work. Storms were unplanned and unapproved.”

Jake nods. “But there’s a magic in the unexpected. There’s delight in happening across an old friend unexpectedly, one you haven’t seen in years. There’s a charm in feeling that the universe has stirred you a certain way, to a specific place and time, where you meet a kindred spirit or have a meaningful interaction that defies the odds. My father was very resolutely against the unexpected arrival of children, for example, which didn’t make life easy for my half-brother, Luke.” Jake gives Luke a nod and Luke almost smiles. Daphne Bradshaw is with him, her hand in his just the way Sylvia’s is in mine.

I think that all three of us are luckier than we deserve.

“But Luke is a force of nature in his own right, and has given so much to all of us, in orchestrating the arrival of The Carpe Diem Café in Empire and giving this town a new life.”

There’s a small cheer in response to that.

“Exactly,” Jake says. “How did we get so lucky as to have such a great bistro in town?” There are nods of agreement and Sylvia squeezes my hand. “Luke also ensured that Sylvia returned to Empire and with her, my father’s first and only grandchild.” I feel Sierra straighten as Jake looks at her. “I wish my father had been able to welcome the gift of Sierra, her enthusiasm and her energy, but he could not.”

Jake’s voice is husky when he continues. “So, when I think of my father, I think of his mastery of all the variables necessary to achieve his goal, his drive and his perfectionism, yet I also think of what he lost by not celebrating anything he hadn’t personally planned. I look at the wins and I can’t help but see the oversights. I would like to suggest that you take these two impulses as part of your own memory of him: that on the one hand, you fight for your dreams and are persistent in seeking your heart’s desire, yet at the same time, you welcome any good fortune that is bestowed upon you, embracing it as fortification for the journey. I invite you to celebrate your own accomplishments along with the happenstance that can make them multiply beyond expectation.” He looks out over the group, his gaze clear. “Maybe then we’ll find goodness in every corner of our lives. Maybe then, we’ll learn to find joy in the snow.”

There is a murmur of agreement and a few people clap their approval of this sentiment.

“On behalf of my entire family, I thank you all for coming today to share in this celebration of the life and legacy of Patrick Cavendish. The interment will be a private one and held later. There will be a reception –” Jake looks at his watch. “–starting any minute now at The Carpe Diem Café on Queen Street, and you’re all welcome to join us there. There is also a tribute book in the narthex and I’m sure that Candace would greatly appreciate any memories you would like to share. Thank you again.”

This time, the applause is more than a patter and Jake comes to me. I see him blinking back tears and I shake his hand, surprised when he leans in for a hug. I hug him back, catching the approval in Sylvia’s eyes. We stand side by side then, Mackenzie’s hand in Jake’s and Sylvia’s hand in mine, Sierra beside Sylvia, then Luke and Daphne, Austin, Abbie, Candace, Madison, Ethan and Grayson. (Austin, of course, has his sunglasses on.) My aunt Grace has come from Alberta and stands with her sons Kade and Nick. Louise Jones is sitting further back in the crowd, as is Richard Bradshaw and Una and all the other people who cared enough to come and pay their respects to Dad.

We’re all together, united as we never were in Dad’s lifetime, brought back to Empire after his passing. I feel like our family has been reassembled, as if the fractures that divided us and drove us apart are being slowly healed, and that can only be a good sign for the future.

I’m not the only one who has a rosy future in Empire. I give Sylvia’s hand a squeeze as the minister begins the final hymn, my heart full of promise and gratitude.

Epilogue

Mackenzie

We get married at Christmas, which to me is the most perfect time of the year. It’s the twentieth of December and there’s about a foot of snow in Empire. On our wedding day, the skies are clear blue and the air is crisp and cold. Queen Street has holiday decorations and there is cedar roping hung on the fronts on the open stores. We had a parade again this year, the first time in a while, and Opa was delighted to play the part of St. Nick again.

Madison found me the perfect dress. It was designed by Vera Wang, and is a sleek column of ivory satin, with a sheer back and a row of tiny buttons down my spine. I feel like a movie star, with my red velvet cloak, red lipstick and the cascade of red roses in my arms as I climb the steps of the church with Opa and my mom. My veil is epic, a swirl of sheer cream, that Madison fusses over once we’re in the church.

The church is decorated for Christmas too, hung with green boughs. There’s a cluster of potted poinsettias near the altar, all white and red, and there are ribbons on the ends of the pews. The church is crowded with well-wishers, but all I see is Jake at the altar, impeccable in his tux, a red rose in his lapel. He grew back his beard this fall and seeing him now reminds me of meeting him at that reception. It’s hard to believe it was only six months ago.

My whole world has changed in that period and I know that Jake is responsible for a lot of that. Everything feels possible for us in this moment, as if we’re on the cusp of an amazing adventure, one that we’ll undertake together.

Opa murmurs to me. “Yes?” he asks, as if I would ever change my mind about Jake.

“Yes,” I say with resolve and he smiles.

“Yes,” he agrees with satisfaction and nods to the organist. The Wedding March begins and I take the first step of my journey down the aisle on my grandfather’s arm. Jake smiles, watching me approach, his eyes glowing with a happiness that echoes my own. When I come to a halt beside him, he widens his eyes a little and whispers “wow.”

I smile because that sums up everything so perfectly. It’s not just how good he looks or the smell of his cologne or the heat of him beside me, which I can feel even though we’re not touching. It’s that I know he has my back and I have his. We’re a team and together, we really are more than the sum of the parts.

I can’t wait to see what we accomplish together.