"I don't know what that is, but I want it," Lola said as he went on.
"—cherry soda, chocolate soda, chocolate-cherry soda, whipped cream, cherries on top, the whole nine yards. I love working here," he added happily. "It's like getting to make delicious chemistry experiments."
"Please. Don't let me stop a master at work. One chocolate cherry bomb ice cream soda, made as you see fit."
The young man turned a hopeful look on Sam. "And you, sir?"
"I'll have a vanilla milkshake, please."
In a tone of crushing disappointment, the soda jerk said, "Not even a malt?"
Sam chuckled. "Not even a malt. Oh, but I do need to pay for something in advance. Do you know Noah Brannigan? About this high, six or so?—"
The kid laughed. "I think everybody in Virtue knows Noah. He and his mom moved here a couple years ago, into to the Old Brannigan Place, and he's been charming everybody he meets ever since."
"Well, he worked his charm on us," Lola told the kid, who really needed a name tag. Although when she was young, she'd have known his name anyway; Virtue really wasn't that big a town. "So Sam decided he'd comp him an ice cream of his choice the next time he came in."
"Oh, he'll love that. Sure, I can do that. I'll make a note and let the manager know. Take a seat," he said with a wave at the largely-empty parlor. "I'll bring your drinks over to you."
Sam slid his hand down to Lola's and, with a quick, enquiring eyebrow to make sure it was all right, led her to one of the two-person booths, where they settled in across from each other with effortless intimacy. "I have to keep reminding myself it's been a whole lifetime," Lola whispered. "Being with you feels so much the same. I didn't hate Virtue until after you died, and now I feel like I could belong here again. Are you magic, Sam? Is this magic?"
"A little bit," he murmured. "It's fate. After all this time, finding each other again? It has to be. Tell me? Tell me something about your life, Lola. About who you are, how you've been. You're right. In some days it hardly seems to matter. But in others…I have a lifetime to catch up on, so if you want to…tell me?"
CHAPTER8
They had saidthat the details didn't matter out loud at least half a dozen times already. Sam thought he'd probably told himself that a hundred times in the past couple of hours, and he meant it.
ButGodhe was curious, and so, obviously, was Lola. He couldn't tell her everything about his narrow escape all those decades ago, not until they were somewhere private, and he'd prefer that to be his old family estate, rather than…well, anywhere else. Even his fox agreed, with a quiet sigh. Virtue might be a sanctuary town, but even here, shifters didn't just reveal themselves in public. So he'd just barely touched on his own survival, and for the moment, Lola had accepted that.
And for the moment, she fell silent, holding his hand across the table and studying their entwined fingers instead of speaking. Sam waited; he was in no hurry. Not after this long. If nothing else, he'd learned patience in all the years they'd been apart.
After a few minutes the young man from behind the counter brought their treats, and Lola broke her silence with a laugh as he slid her cherry chocolate bomb soda to a stop in front of her. It was in an old-fashioned soda glass, chocolate ice cream with chocolate-covered cherries and cherry ice cream swirled through it, and fizzing cherry soda bubbling up to lift the whipped cream and maraschino cherry over the lip of the glass. A long spoon and a longer straw were buried in the drink, and Sam could smell the actual cherry syrup that had been mixed into the soda water to make a real, honest-to-god cherry soda.
He looked at his own vanilla milkshake, also in a tall glass. "I may have made a mistake."
"Shoulda gone with at least a malt, dude," the soda jerk said with a sad shake of his head. "Although that should be a pretty good milkshake."
Sam had to try it, at that point, and his eyebrows rose even as the roof of his mouth froze. "That's excellent, actually. I'm not sure I've ever had a better vanilla milkshake."
The kid leaned in a little. "Vanilla paste."
"Er, what?"
"Quarter teaspoon of vanilla paste, mixed into the ice cream, plus a teaspoon ofrealvanilla extract. And high-quality vanilla ice cream, obviously."
"Obviously," Sam said, amused. "It's very good. Thank you."
By then Lola had taken a sip of her soda, and let loose a delighted little giggle. "This is fabulous. The syrup's perfect." She tried the ice cream and groaned happily. "I should have ordered two."
The soda jerk looked thrilled. "If you still think so when you finish that one I'll make you another on the house."
"I'm already sure I can't eat two, but I may hold you to that anyway." Lola smiled at the young man, who left the table beaming with pride, and then turned her smile on Sam. "Well, this was a wonderful idea. Do you want to try mine?"
"I think I can't resist." They traded tastes, Sam's eyebrows lifting again as he tried Lola's soda. "I don't even like cherry all that much and that's terrific."
"I do like vanilla and that's amazing." Lola took another sip of her soda, then used her spoon to plunge the ice cream deeper into the soda. "The funeral was awful, Sam. Not just in the obvious ways. Your parents…"
Sam sighed. "I'd like to tell you they became less awful after I returned from the dead, but they really didn't. They were thrilled I was alive, obviously, but…I'm afraid they were equally thrilled you weren't in Virtue anymore. They really thought I'd move on."
