“They booked a table at The Gilded Lantern,” I said. “Jake insisted.”
She stopped and looked towards our front door.
“It’s a wonderful place,” she said, lowering her voice a little. “You should let them spoil you. You’ve spent twenty-five years putting others first.”
“Honestly, I’m a little nervous about this,” I said, looking at the wooden porch steps.
“Are you nervous about dinner?” she asked.
“I don’t want to make a fuss,” I said, lowering my voice. “Damon says it’s an expensive place, and I don’t want to look out of place.”
Mrs. Gable looked at me for a long moment, resting her hand on the wooden railing of my porch.
“A woman should shine on her birthday, Elena,” she said softly. “Don’t let anyone make you feel small in your own skin.”
She patted me on the shoulder, then turned and walked back to her house, her words hanging in the cool afternoon air.
