Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 591

Sensing her gaze, Lester turned his head with a soft smile and pulled her in with an easy arm around her shoulders.

“Well, since everyone’s here, let’s all grab a seat.”

Everyone nodded and began to settle at the table.

Sylvia quietly walked past Rupert, feeling all too aware of every step.

When it came time to sit, she hesitated, unsure where it was appropriate for her. Lester was now head of the family—his status basically equal to Rupert’s—and the seats beside him were usually reserved for immediate family or elders.

She and Lester were only dating; it didn't feel right to take one of those spots.

As she wavered, an older relative who’d come along with Scott pointed to the empty seat next to Lester.

“Ms. Lloyd, you take this spot. I’m a bit on the hefty side—if I scoot down, I can snag a couple extra inches for myself.” He patted his belly and grinned, his eyes crinkling warmly.

Sylvia hurriedly protested, “Oh, please, you should have it.”

Lester gave her hand a tug, still smiling. “It’s fine, sit here. My uncle’s got doctor’s orders—no wine, no cigars, and if he sits here, he’ll be sneaking drinks all night.”

The uncle chuckled. “You know me too well.”

He promptly blocked Sylvia’s way and plopped himself down on the far end, leaving the seat by Lester open.

Sylvia thanked him and finally sat down next to Lester. To her surprise, she didn’t feel nearly as nervous as she’d expected.

Maybe it was just the Sanford family’s easygoing nature—here, this sort of thing didn’t seem like a big deal.

No wonder Lester had such a good temperament, growing up in an environment like this.

If this were the Garcia family, she thought, sitting in the wrong seat would have triggered a whole lecture about manners and upbringing—not just directed at her, but at her parents too.

And it wouldn’t have been one elder scolding you, but the whole Garcia committee in chorus.

Respect and hierarchy were etched into every Garcia bone.

And whatever Tristan said, the family followed without question.

Sylvia remembered joking with Naomi when she’d first arrived at the Garcia house—Tristan was like some medieval king, and his stuffy uncles and aunts were his loyal court of nobles and knights.

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