Chasing Legacy | ONC2023

Chapter 4: Feelin' So Good

HARLOWE

Opening up my eyes today, I feel the sun shining on my face. It becomes so clear to me that everything is going my way. I feel like there's no limit to what I can do. I got rid of some fears that were holding me back. I'm starting to realize I've got untapped potential and endless possibilities. Being the social media reporter for the Heartland Foundation Do Good Gala opened a whole new world for me. A nice change of pace to wake up to.

It's only the first step on a long, tremulous ladder. The sense of accomplishment excites me. I've really earned it. That fills me with pride. The feeling was echoed by Maya, my parents and Lyndsay Cruse, the Executive Director of the Foundation, with whom I clearly am on a first name basis since our brunch at the label.

I seem to have offers out of a fairytale. My dress cascades down from my bedroom door as evidence that I indeed was Cinderella for a night this week. "I'm ready to reap the benefits of what I've sowed. Carpe Diem, Harlowe."

With that affirmation, no, attitude, I get out of bed. Putting on my comfy bathrobe and furry slippers. In search of some much needed breakfast.

Coming down the stairs, my mom is standing there, awaiting my presence. I swear she has supernatural hearing. I kiss her good morning on the cheek. We both smile about our appearances. "Where's Dad?"

"In here, Bunny! Making a feast, come sit!"

Rounding the corner to the kitchen, my father is living out his chef's dream behind the stove. "You didn't exaggerate," I tell him, eyeing all the food that's spread around the breakfast bar. "You could feed an army."

"Oh nonsense, you deserve it after getting such hopeful offers. I'll join you in a sec, just finishing your favorite."

"French toast? You truly mean business, Daddy."

My father comes from humble beginnings. In his household money was tight and groceries and luxuries were expensive. That's why he and his cousins would often get French toast instead of a cake for their birthdays. Ever since he told me the endearing story so fondly, it's one of my go-to dishes. I want to keep this memory and tradition alive. My dad agreed. Even though he whips up the sweet treat way more frequently than my birthday.

"Can't I show my love and appreciation for my daughter through some fancy slices of bread?" he asks me, as syrupy as the one he's holding in his hand. I nod while he slides the plate and bottle on the bar. It's my mother's cue to take her place beside me.

"I guess, my Journalism training kicked in for the gig, Dad. Didn't get the degree for show. Although I kinda work in some type of show business nowadays." I finally take a bite to signal I'm done making my statement.

"Nickel Recording and Publishing will always be there for you. It's your birthright. That's why..."

"My gosh, I knew it! The French toast comes attached with something. A token of a father's love... Yeah right. Lay it out on the table, Dad. Don't spin another white lie and Mom, start eating. Stop fidgeting."

"How did you...?"

"Journalist, remember Mama? People tell you their stories through their behavior and silence way more often than through their actual words." She flinches back, just like Deacon when I called him out on his bullshit.

"Bunny, don't be so hard on your mother. I'm the one that got a phone call and decided to keep it from you until your schedule freed up."

"So, I was right, Dad. You do mean business. I've been taking care of myself, like I should and not even a sincere 'Congratulations' came out of your mouths..." I move my hand between my parents. "...It's all shallow pride to keep up appearances. By all means, tell me what you need."