The warm, rich scent of garlic cream sauce, steamed broccoli, and roasted chicken still lingered in the air of the Lakehouse great room.
On the long cedar table sat an empty glass baking dish that had held enough chicken broccoli Alfredo fettuccini to feed an army, alongside a wooden salad bowl scraped clean and the lingering crumbs of a vanilla-bean cheesecake.
The idea had been mine from the start.
Once a month, instead of formal pack hall dinners with rigid protocols and stiff seating charts,...
