The Chef
Copyright© 2025 by R. E. Bounds
Epilogue
Hearing my phone vibrate and then seeing the text, I hurried to the front and opened the door.
“Burr,” Sophie said, wrapping her arms around herself. “Why did we stay here again? Why didn’t we move somewhere warm?”
I paused, considering her words. “Well, for one, the community has accepted us.”
I caught myself, adding, “Well, most of the community has accepted us. Plus, last month’s exhibition really put the museum on the map. People are coming from far and wide now, and the locals appreciate the boost in tourism. You’ve seen all the new trendy shops moving in.”
I stepped closer and gently kissed Sophie, my heart swelling with warmth. “And this is our home. None of us wanted to leave—we really like it here.”
I glanced down at her slightly rounded belly, a reminder of the beautiful change ahead. “And you’re showing, which has people talking—and not in a bad way.”
All of this was true. Every word. Becca had Michelle that following January, and we started trying for another baby the next month. It took a while for Sophie to get pregnant. We had hoped it would happen in four months, but it ended up taking seven.
Now, five months along, Sophie was showing. People were okay with it—at least, most were. Sure, some talked, but many just assumed Becca and Sophie were a couple. They knew Michelle was mine and likely guessed Sophie’s baby was too, viewing the two girls as a gay couple raising a family together.
Then there’s the latest exhibition from last holiday season—which was a huge success. I wouldn’t call it national recognition—not in the sense of becoming a household name—but it was immensely popular among museum-goers and art enthusiasts. In other words, among those in the know, Becca and Sophie were now well-regarded.
As a result, people started coming. An exhibition that would typically last a week extended to a month, attracting artists from all over the world.
Even Becca’s former employer tried to woo her back. They had allowed Margaret and her money to nearly drive the museum to closure. Feeling that the museum’s leaders had let it fall into disrepair, Margaret stopped her donations, believing others were to blame for the destruction she had caused. It was typical of her not to take responsibility for her actions.
But Becca refused. Eventually, she found herself heading Eleanor’s foundation, as Eleanor had entrusted its care to a few individuals she knew would take care of it, Becca being one of them.
All of this meant more people were in our area. While some hated the influx of tourists, those who relied on it relished it, especially since it brought people to the area during the off-peak months—the cold ones.
So, whether their attitudes were driven by economics, indifference, or acceptance, there was no reason to move. No reason to go. So, we stayed.
Thinking about what I had told her, Sophie smiled and said, “Yeah, you’re right. But can we at least plan a beach trip? Maybe before the baby arrives?”
She then added, “How about tomorrow?”
“Becca and I have an all-expenses-paid trip that we never used. We can talk to her about it. Maybe Florida? Or the Bahamas?”
I suggested, chuckling at the thought that Sophie had already packed her bags in her mind.
“It would be fun to see Michelle experience sand for the first time. And she’s old enough to travel now; we don’t have to worry about her immune system as much.”
But then I said, “We’ll just have to make sure it’s okay for you to travel.”
With raised eyebrows, Sophie replied, “We have the money. We don’t have to rely on that all-expenses-paid thing.”
“I know,” I said, “but it’s there. We should use it.”
I explained to Sophie that we also had gift cards for shopping sprees that we hadn’t used yet—Becca was saving them for the right time. This didn’t really help the situation, but that’s how Becca and I thought. I knew Sophie felt the same way, but she was also right about one thing: we were spending well below how quickly the money was accumulating from our investments, even after taxes.
As she tried to get warm, Sophie looked around.
“Wow,” she said, getting teary. “I haven’t seen this place in a while. It’s really come together.”
“So, it’s ready?” she asked. “It looks ready.”
I nodded. “Yeah. The soft opening and the new exhibition are scheduled for next month. We’ll have the VIPs here in the afternoon, and then they’ll drive to the museum for the private showing and the rest of the festivities.”
Seeing that Sophie was about to cry, I said gently, “No, no crying yet.”
I covered her eyes and led her a little way before removing my hands.
“Now—you can cry,” I said, smiling at her.
Sophie just stood there, taking it all in. And then she started crying. “Are those...?”
“Uh-huh,” I replied.
She looked at me, her eyes shining. “She’s going to love this,” she said, taking in everything around her.
I nodded.
“I hope so. She should be here soon with Michelle.” I added, “I think she was wrapping up a few things that Kenney needed so he could finish all the custom work.”
Not only did we not want to leave, but we also didn’t want to move. We loved our home and our neighborhood.
So, we spent a little of the money we had and remodeled—instead, we finished the unfinished spaces. There was the open space above the garage, which we converted into a studio apartment with a small kitchen and bathroom.
However, the reality was that it would serve as a workspace for Becca and Sophie since we needed the two bedrooms for Michelle and the new baby. It would be a great spot to work from—just a minute’s walk into the house, but still separate for privacy. Plus, it was accessible from within the garage through a side door, making it all enclosed.
We also finished the basement. While it didn’t quite double the square footage, it significantly increased it. We turned it into a play area for the kids and a large master bedroom and bathroom for Sophie, Becca, or me.
We didn’t always stay together every night; we did most nights, but not always. It worked for us, giving us flexibility in different situations, including times when one of us was sick.