“Maybe we should give Paolo’s a try.”
“Looks like he could use the business.”
They went back to the storefront and ordered a medium mushroom and Italian sausage pizza, then took the boxes out to the pickup, where she helped him fight against the wind. Together they wrapped the boxes in a plastic tarp to protect them from the weather. Back inside, they removed their coats, shook off the snow, and sat down at a small table.
He patted the laminate tabletop. “I got these fixtures for a good deal,” he told her. “They’re not much to look at, but I always put red-and-white gingham tablecloths on them. And then I topped them with an old-fashioned wine bottle with dripping candle wax.”
“Just likeLady andthe Tramp,” she declared.
He laughed. “Exactly my inspiration.”
She lowered her voice. “Is it hard to be here?”
He shrugged. “A little. But I guess it’s good therapy. Thanks for pushing me. I probably needed it.”
“Well, the building itself is charming. I love the old woodfloors and stucco walls. And the iron lanterns are a nice old-world touch. I can imagine how charming it used to be.”
“Yeah, I never had that long counter over there or the soda machine. Or those big pizza signs, of course.” He frowned. “I had these great vintage travel posters of Italy in nice frames. In fact, I still have them. And I used to have a lot of big plants, but I left them behind.” He glanced around. “I’m guessing they bit the dust.” He sighed. “I always tried to create an atmosphere that made customers feel like they were somewhere else ... or maybe even that they’d gone back in time.”
“I would’ve liked a place like that.” She smiled. “Especially if the food was good.”
His brows arched as if he was about to defend his culinary skills.
She beat him to it. “And I know your food would’ve been excellent.”
“Thank you.” He sipped his water, then wrinkled his nose. “And I never used plastic glasses or dishes or anything like that.” He pointed to the napkin dispenser. “And I always used cloth napkins. When I was starting out, I’d take linens home to launder myself.”
“Very domestic,” she teased.
“Mostly just cheap.” He paused as the pizza was set down, along with two plastic plates. He thanked the server, then bowed his head to say a short but sincere blessing.
They got quiet as they began to eat. Although Carol was hungry, she was a bit disappointed by the pizza. “I think it smelled better than it tastes,” she whispered to him. “Kinda validates your low opinion, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Well, in Paul’s defense—that’s the owner—this weather has probably taken its toll on traffic. Maybe he’s not into pizza-making tonight.”
“Yes. I’m surprised he’s even open.”
“Right. Maybe it’s an off night.”
She took another bite, slowly chewing the tough crust. It was crispy on the outside but doughy and undercooked in the middle.
“Tell me about your life back in Seattle,” he said, using a plastic fork to scrape off the pizza topping that he proceeded to eat, leaving the gummy crust behind.
She followed his example, then tried to think of a way to describe her life back in Seattle. It suddenly seemed so far away and removed, like it was another world. Maybe it was. “Well, I mostly just work. I mean, I have a few friends that I socialize with, but sometimes I’ll work so hard staging a house for a realtor that I come home exhausted and just flop down with a frozen dinner and an old movie. I guess I’ve gotten into something of a rut.”
“Do you enjoy your work?”
She thought he already knew the answer to this but decided to fill him in a little more, painting an even gloomier picture.
“And the Seattle weather? What’s it like? All I’ve heard is that it rains a lot.”
“It definitely rains. But on a clear day, it’s beautiful there.” She sighed. “But clear days seem few and far between.”
“And you don’t really have family there?”
“Family?” She pursed her lips. “I honestly don’t know that I’ve ever had family. Not really.” She began to pour out her story ... about a lonely little girl whose parents fought like cats and dogs, then split up.She painted a tale about a preoccupied single mom, more interested in dating than parenting. “To put it mildly, my mom was not a homemaker. I guess that’s why I got so interested in home decor and why I was so thrilled to get a place of my own and make it beautiful ... and homey.”
“So your place is homey?”
