The next morning, the three sat around the kitchen table with notebooks, coffee, and serious faces.
"We need this dinner to feel open, not pushy," Talia said. "People already think we're being too bold."
"So we don't make it about us," Elena added. "We make it about the food. Community. Connection."
Marco nodded. "No speeches. Just good meals, good seats, and full plates."
They decided on an outdoor setup behind Bellamy's Table. Long table, simple dishes. Marco would handle mains. Talia would do the sides and desserts. Elena would manage invites and atmosphere.
"It's going to take work," Marco said. "More than just the three of us."
Elena stood up. "Then we ask for help."
Later that day, Elena visited the flower shop. Talia stopped by the local print shop for flyers. Marco went to the market to source ingredients.
Some people were friendly.
Some weren't.
Penny from the grocery store gave Elena a forced smile. "Hosting something, dear?"
"Yes," Elena replied. "Everyone's welcome."
"Even if they disagree with how you… live?"
Elena kept her voice calm. "Especially them."
By sunset, the trio regrouped.
"People are coming," Elena said, checking her messages. "A lot more than we thought."
"That's good," Marco said.
"It also means more judgment," Talia said, wiping her hands on a towel. "Some of them are just showing up to watch."
"Let them watch," Marco replied. "We'll show them something worth seeing."
Just before dinner prep the next day, someone knocked on the back kitchen door.
Talia opened it—and froze.
Standing there, holding a bottle of wine and wearing a calm but unreadable expression, was Mila.
"I heard you're throwing a dinner," she said.
Talia crossed her arms. "And?"
"I'm not here to stir anything up. Just wanted to help."
Elena walked in behind her, surprised to see Mila again.
"You sure that's all you want?" Elena asked.
Mila held up the wine. "I come bearing peace offerings."
Marco arrived last. His face went from confusion to caution.
Mila just smiled. "Relax. I'm not here for you. I'm here for them."