Chapter 326
**Sara**
Betty lurched to a stop in front of my parent's home, the brakes making only a slight squeak as Charles parked.
"See? She made it. No tow truck required." Charles patted the dashboard affectionately.
"This time," I quipped, unbuckling my seatbelt. "Next time, we might not be so lucky."
"Betty is perfectly reliable," Charles insisted, killing the engine. "She's just... experienced."
"That's a nice way of saying 'on her last legs,'" I teased, knowing full well the car was actually in decent shape. Charles maintained it meticulously – but where was the fun in admitting that?
"Betty has at least another decade in her," Charles said defensively as we climbed out.
Melissa rounded the car, her arms full with two large bakery boxes tied with red ribbon. The sweet scent of pastries wafted through the air, making my stomach growl.
"Need help with those?" I asked, reaching for one of the boxes.
"I've got it," Charles swooped in, taking both boxes from Melissa's hands. "Can't have my girlfriend doing all the heavy lifting."
"My hero," Melissa said with an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes.
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. Those boxes weigh what? Two pounds each?"
"It's the principle," Charles insisted, balancing the boxes carefully as we made our way up the walkway to the front door.
Mom flung the door open before we even reached it as if she'd been watching from the window. Knowing her, she probably had been.
"There you are!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug that nearly knocked the wind out of me. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."
"Hi, Mom," I wheezed, patting her back. "Need... to breathe..."
She released me with a laugh, then turned to Melissa, giving her a gentler hug. "So good to see you again, dear."
"You too, Mrs. Parker," Melissa smiled warmly.
Charles stepped forward proudly, thrusting the bakery boxes toward Mom. "Look what I brought!"
I snorted. "You brought? That's rich."
"What?" He gave me an innocent look that wouldn't have fooled a toddler.
"Melissa bought those," I said, crossing my arms. "I literally watched her carry them out of the bakery while you were busy checking your hair in the rearview mirror."
"Actually," Melissa interjected diplomatically, "we split it. Half and half."
"See?" Charles shot me a smug look.
"You made your girlfriend pay half?" I shook my head in mock disappointment. "What a gentleman."
"I didn't make her—"
"Charles Parker, are you too cheap to buy dessert for your own family?" I teased, enjoying the way his ears turned red.
Melissa laughed. "I wanted to bring something, and he insisted on paying half. I had to fight him to let me contribute at all."
"Oh, my sweet brother," I cooed, pinching his cheek like he was five years old. "So gallant."
He swatted my hand away. "You're the worst."
"I know," I grinned. "It's a gift."
Mom ushered us inside, taking the bakery boxes from Charles. "These look delicious! Come in, come in. Your father's in the backyard threatening the grill again."
As we stepped into the familiar entryway, the smell of home wrapped around me – a mixture of Mom's floral perfume, Dad's aftershave, and whatever was cooking in the kitchen.
"So, Sara," Mom said, turning to me with that look in her eye. "How's the new job going?"
I blinked. "What?"
"Your job at Westbridge Capital? The one you apparently didn't think was worth mentioning to your own mother."
"I told you about it!" I protested weakly.
"When?"
"On the phone!"
Mom set the bakery boxes on the kitchen counter with a skeptical look. "You told me after I called you, Sara. You'd been hiding it until then." She opened one of the boxes, revealing an assortment of pastries that made my mouth water instantly. "If I hadn't called to check on you, would you have even mentioned it?"
I shifted uncomfortably. "I was going to tell you in a few days, after I received my first salary. I thought I'd surprise you with a new outfit or something." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "But then you called, and it came up, and... well, I told you then."
Mom's expression softened. "How sweet of you to think of buying me something." She patted my cheek. "But honey, you need to buy outfits for yourself. You're going to a real job now! You need more professional clothes."
"Mom, I have clothes-"
"Those old things?" She waved dismissively. "You need proper office attire. Something that says, 'I'm a professional businesswoman who knows what she's doing.'"
"As opposed to 'I'm a confused twenty-something who's winging it'?" I quipped.
Charles snickered. "That's more accurate."
I shot him a glare. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, bro."
"Anytime, sis."
The back door swung open, and Dad strode in, wearing his ridiculous 'Grill Master' apron and wielding a pair of tongs like a weapon.
"There's my little girl!" He boomed, wrapping me in a bear hug that smelled of charcoal and aftershave. "How's the new job treating you? Working hard?"
"It's good, Dad. Challenging, but good."
He pulled back, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous spark. "And have you found any handsome men at your fancy office?"
"Dad!" I groaned, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. "I'm going to the office to work, not to scout for dates."
"Why not do both?" He winked. "Multitasking is an important business skill."
I groaned, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "Dad, I'm trying to establish myself professionally. Dating isn't exactly at the top of my priority list right now."
"But sweetheart," Dad said, arranging his steaks on a platter with the precision of a surgeon, "you can't work all the time. Life's about balance!"
"I know, I know." I leaned against the counter, stealing a cherry tomato from the salad bowl. "But I want to focus on work for now. Get my foot in the door, make a good impression."
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