Sensing her gaze, Lester turned his head with a soft smile and pulled her in with an easy arm around her shoulders.

"Well, since everyone's here, let's all grab a seat."

Everyone nodded and began to settle at the table.

Sylvia quietly walked past Rupert, feeling all too aware of every step.

When it came time to sit, she hesitated, unsure where it was appropriate for her. Lester was now head of the family-his status basically equal to Rupert's-and the seats beside him were usually reserved for immediate family or elders.

She and Lester were only dating; it didn't feel right to take one of those spots.

As she wavered, an older relative who'd come along with Scott pointed to the empty seat next to Lester.

"Ms. Lloyd, you take this spot. I'm a bit on the hefty side-if I scoot down, I can snag a couple extra inches for myself." He patted his belly and grinned, his eyes crinkling warmly.

Sylvia hurriedly protested, "Oh, please, you should have it."

Lester gave her hand a tug, still smiling. "It's fine, sit here. My uncle's got doctor's orders-no wine, no cigars, and if he sits here, he'll be sneaking drinks all night."

The uncle chuckled. "You know me too well."

He promptly blocked Sylvia's way and plopped himself down on the far end, leaving the seat by Lester open.

thanked him and finally sat down next to Lester. To her surprise, she

nature-here, this sort of


Lester had such a good temperament, growing up in

were the Garcia family, she thought, sitting in the wrong seat would have triggered a whole lecture about manners and upbringing-not

one elder scolding you, but the whole Garcia committee in

hierarchy were etched into every

the family

Garcia house -Tristan was like some medieval king, and his stuffy uncles and aunts

if not fiercely loyal. That's why, after a century,

sat, the table

Eventually the conversation

the midst of

wno

Scott. s

then added,


spoke, Tristan shot

were business veterans-they

Lester was being

on her,

like

another unspoken Garcia rule:

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