“Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. But love plays an honest hand and that man loves you.”
Tears sting my eyes. “What if loving him means losing him? What if?—?”
“What if the sun doesn’t come up tomorrow? What if the lake freezes solid? What if Judy Waples actually admits my brownies are better?” She shakes her head. “You can’t live in the what-ifs, Winnie. Trust me, I tried after your grandfather died. Nearly missed the rest of my life because I was so busy being afraid.”
I grip the steering wheel, knuckles white. “What I wasdoing was familiar, but things with Patton are so new. So foreign. I have no idea how to do this.”
“Nobody does. That’s the point.” She straightens, patting my car door. “You came back. Didn’t get much past Route 50.”
How does she know? Oh, right. Small town.
“That means something. Now, either drive away again and spend the rest of your life wondering, or stay and figure it out. Your choice.”
She heads back inside, leaving me alone in my car with my racing thoughts.
I sit there for another five minutes, then ten. The sun plays peek-a-boo over Huckleberry Hill. The mountains. The lake. The town I’ve somehow fallen in love with, despite my plans to leave, eventually.
The town where Patton lives.
I don’t go back inside yet. But I’m not going back to Reno either. Instead, I drive to the lookout point on the edge of town—the one that offers a panoramic view of the valley below. It’s too early for tourists, so I have the place to myself.
I park and get out, wrapping my coat tighter against the morning chill. From here, I can see the entire village—the municipal complex with its glass walls, the old firehouse-turned-bakery, Main Street with its quirky shops, even Grandma’s cottage near the lake.
But not the future.
My phone rings and I flinch, having a twitchy reaction to it, after all the calls from my brother, the surprise call from Patton’s mother, and, of course, the newfound perpetual fear of the official kind of call that no one ever wants to get about someone they love.
I almost don’t answer, but guilt wins out and I glance at the screen. It’s my mother. “Hi, Mom.”
“Vincenza! Your brother told me about the restaurant.”
My stomach twists. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I tried to send money, but it wasn’t enough, and?—”
“Stop.” Her voice is firm but gentle. “Honey, why didn’t you tell us what you were doing?”
“I wanted to help.”
“You did help. More than we ever should have let you.” She sighs.
Dad’s voice comes through the speaker. “We failed you,bambina. We let you think it was your job to rescue the restaurant.”
“But it’s your life?—”
“It’s just a restaurant. A building. Yes, we’re sad it’s closing. But we’re not devastated. We’re actually … relieved?” Mom says as if the notion is entirely new.
I blink. “Relieved?”
“We’ve been chained to that place for thirty-five years.” My mother sounds more exhausted than usual.
Dad says, “Never took a real vacation.”
“Never pursued other dreams. We just kept running in place because we were too scared to stop.” She exhales.
Dad, with the kind of vigor he gets in his voice when his cream sauce is perfect, says, “Turns out, sometimes things need to end so something better can begin.”
“Like what?”
There is a pause as if they’re exchanging a look.
