The warm glow of the Zeller dining room made the sumptuous spread on the table even more inviting. Claire Grace sat quietly, taking in the domestic atmosphere that felt both foreign and comforting. She hadn't experienced this kind of familial warmth in years, and it left her feeling both grateful and slightly overwhelmed.
"Claire, here, try this rose chicken I made especially for you!" Helen Zeller chirped, her radiant smile lighting up the room as she eagerly added a generous portion to Claire's bowl.
"Thank you, Mrs. Zeller," Claire said softly, her heart touched by the older woman's enthusiasm. As she took a bite, the tender meat practically melted in her mouth, the floral notes of rose creating a surprisingly delicious harmony. For a moment, she was lost in the flavors, but then her gaze drifted toward Lucas.
He sat at the opposite end of the table, his striking profile illuminated by the soft chandelier light. He'd been quiet since they arrived at the dining room. At first, he'd shown some interest, asking Claire a few polite questions, but now his focus seemed solely on his bowl, his movements detached and mechanical.
"Claire, we're practically family now," Helen began, her tone brimming with excitement. "Don't you think calling me *Mrs. Zeller* sounds too formal? Shouldn't you start calling me Mom?"
Claire blinked, startled by the suggestion. "Uh…call you Mom?" she repeated, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
The clatter of Lucas's bowl hitting the table made her flinch. His sharp gaze finally met hers, filled with a mix of irritation and something else she couldn't quite place.
"Oh dear, you're scaring her with that temper of yours," Thomas Zeller teased, shaking his head at his son.
"No, really, it's fine," Claire said quickly, her voice earnest. She smiled at Helen, her heart warmed by the older woman's kindness. "Actually, I'm touched by how much Mrs. Zeller seems to care about me. I've always longed for a mother's love. My own mom passed away when I was young, and I've wished for that kind of caring presence in my life. Now…I feel it from Mrs. Zeller."
Helen's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Oh, Claire, that means so much to me," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Then it's settled. If calling me 'Mom' feels a bit too sudden, you can call me 'Mama Zeller.' And Thomas here can be 'Papa Zeller.'"
Claire hesitated, unsure how to respond. "Are you sure?" she asked, her gaze flicking toward Lucas as if seeking his approval.
Helen caught the glance and couldn't suppress her widening smile. "Lucas, Claire is asking you something," Thomas prompted.
Still poking at his rice, Lucas didn't look up. "It's not like my opinion matters," he muttered. "You and Mom already decided, haven't you?"
To Helen, this was as good as a green light. Relief spread across her face as she leaned closer to Claire. "Perfect! Since Lucas doesn't object, why don't you go ahead and call us Mom and Dad?" she urged, her excitement bubbling over.
Claire's cheeks flushed a deep red. "Uh…" She opened her mouth but couldn't quite manage the words.
Lucas, meanwhile, had just taken a sip of soup, and Helen's bold suggestion nearly made him choke. Setting his spoon down with an exasperated sigh, he shot his mother a glare. "Mom, you're really—"
"Too smart, right? That's exactly what you were about to say!" Helen cut him off with a triumphant grin.
She turned back to Claire, who now looked like a deer caught in headlights, her face as red as the tomato garnish on her plate. "Don't worry, Claire," Helen continued reassuringly. "Lucas might seem cold and distant, but once you get to know him, you'll find he's quite warm-hearted. He'll take good care of you."
Claire smiled weakly, unsure how to respond to the unexpected compliment. She stole another glance at Lucas, hoping for some kind of reaction, but his expression was unreadable.
Finally, Lucas let out a frustrated sigh, setting his chopsticks down with a deliberate clatter. Rising from the table, he glanced toward the door, clearly eager to escape.
"Going somewhere, Lucas? Take Claire with you!" Helen called after him, her tone hopeful.
Lucas paused in the doorway, his broad shoulders stiffening. He turned his head slightly, his dark eyes narrowing in frustration. "Should I bring her along for a shower, too?" he muttered under his breath.
The room fell silent, and three metaphorical black lines of exasperation appeared on everyone's foreheads.
"Lucas!" Thomas barked, though his tone carried more amusement than admonishment.
Helen sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "Honestly, Claire, you'll have to forgive my son. His sense of humor is…a work in progress."
Claire couldn't help but laugh softly, her initial embarrassment easing as the tension melted away. Lucas, however, didn't wait for any retorts. With a curt nod toward his father, he strode out of the room, leaving behind a swirl of conflicting emotions in his wake.
As the door swung shut, Helen leaned closer to Claire with a conspiratorial grin. "He may act tough, but trust me, my dear—he's softening already."