Chapter 7 - THE RICE PUDDING TRADITIONTen minutes later, Tessa was sitting across from Ethan in his minimalist, sunlit office. She looked nervous, clutching a small glass jar wrapped in a checkered napkin tightly in her lap.
“You didn't have to come all the way to Nashville, Tessa,” Ethan said gently, pouring her a cup of water from the glass pitcher on his desk. “You should be resting after the craziness of last night.”
“I couldn't sleep,” Tessa admitted, her eyes scanning the sleek, modern office before settling back on Ethan. “None of us could. When we came in this morning, the new regional director was already there, locking down the new policies and letting everyone know about the whistleblower hotline. It felt... it felt like waking up from a nightmare.”
She carefully unwrapped the checkered napkin, revealing a small, homemade ceramic jar filled with creamy rice pudding dusted with cinnamon.
“My grandmother makes this every time something good happens,” Tessa said, sliding the jar across the polished oak desk toward him. “It’s not pecan pie, but... it’s a token of thank you. From all of us at the Bellweather House.”
Ethan looked down at the jar. The gesture was simple, unpretentious, and deeply sincere—the exact opposite of the corporate brown-nosing he usually received from high-level partners.
He unscrewed the lid, took a small spoonful, and tasted it. The cinnamon warmth and sweet vanilla melted on his tongue.
“Tell your grandmother she’s got a better recipe than any pastry chef in our portfolio,” Ethan smiled genuinely.
Tessa let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, her shoulders relaxing completely. “Thank you, Mr. Cole. For everything. Not just for getting rid of Gary... but for showing us that someone up there actually cares about the people on the floor.”
“Call me Ethan,” he corrected gently. “And remember: you earned every bit of it by standing your ground.”
As Tessa left the office with a lighter step and a bright smile, Ethan sat back in his chair, feeling a profound sense of peace settle over his chest. Laura’s words echoed quietly in his mind, clear and steady as a bell.
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“Don’t let success make you hard.”
He hadn't let it. And as long as he held the reins, he never would.
