“I bet you were.”
She laughs. “I made terrible meatballs. Too big. My Nonna said they were like cannonballs. But eventually, I got the hang of it.”
I can picture tiny Winnie, eyes fixed with concentration, rolling misshapen meatballs while her grandmother watched with patient love. “I bet you were cute.”
Her hair falls in front of her face and I wonder if my comment made her blush. Then we go quiet again, returning to our tasks for another hour, at least.
“Do you still cook?” I eventually ask, getting hungry for dinner.
“The plan was someday to take over the restaurant, but?—”
“But that’s not your calling?”
“I don’t think so. I love it, don’t get me wrong. But it’s all I ever did. I mean, I wouldn’t object. I’m not exactly passionate about Parks & Recreation, but I like serving the community.”
“Restaurants do that too.”
She tips her head from side to side. “The restaurant is my parents’ entire life. I try to keep things balanced. -Ish.” She pauses, eyes following my movements, before she says, “Your father was a smoke jumper, so why aren’t you?” Her question isn’t a challenge, but maybe my answer will help her understand her own decisions.
“I was.”
“Oh.”
Emotion rushes toward me. What do I do?
16
PATTON
Before I can talkmyself out of it, I start to give Winnie the truth about my past. “But Captain Kendrick—” I study the paintbrush, unsure of how much to reveal. I mean, I don’t care what Winnie thinks of me, do I? “I was always at the front of the line. Someone needed to be.”
“You’re the least reckless guy here, so where did the nickname ‘Maverick’ come from?”
“My father gave it to me. Because I would be brave like him someday. I was. Used to take a lot of risks.” The day that stole everything guts me all over again.
“But that changed when you lost Captain Kendrick.” Something in her voice makes me look up. Her gaze is open, welcoming and safe. I don’t detect judgment. Just two people talking about our lives and what could’ve taken mine.
“I was on a particularly tough fire up north. We lost one of our men. When I got back to base camp, I got the call that Captain Kendrick had passed away. The last thing he told me was that my mother needed me to be around for a long time.”
She shakes her head slowly, but I don’t register pity in her expression. “I’m sorry. That sounds like a lot on a normal day,but both at once seems nearly unbearable. Is that why the bakery matters so much?”
I should deflect. Change the subject. Make a joke.
Instead, I set down the brush. “He said I needed something that wasn’t just emergencies and loss. Something to balance everything else.” I gesture around the space. “He knew I needed roots, I guess. Something that lasts.”
Winnie watches me with her deep brown eyes that are the color of coffee with the smallest splash of milk.
“Captain Kendrick became the father figure I needed. He believed in me when I was just an angry kid trying to prove something.”
“You’re still trying to prove something,” she says softly.
“Maybe.” I stare at her, unsettled by how clearly she sees through me. Needing to shift focus, I say, “Your turn. You said the restaurant is struggling.”
Her expression closes slightly, a generic, neutral smile sliding into place. “Just the usual challenges. Food service is tough.”
“Winnie.” I make a lazy circle with my hand at our general surroundings, reminding her that I’m embarking on a food service endeavor.
Something about the way I say her name—not Vincenza, not Parks & Rec Princess, just Winnie—makes her pause.
