He gestured to an empty booth by the front window. “Sit. What are you having? The lunch rush hasn’t started yet. I’ll join you.”
“One with everything, of course.”
“Beer?”
“No, a half-and-half, I think.” The fifty/fifty mix of iced tea and lemonade, a local favorite, was known as an Arnold Palmer everywhere but in this area. “I’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”
“Be right with you.” He pushed through a swinging door at the end of the counter, yelling, “Anita!”
Holt let himself relax in the familiar surroundings. Same Formica tabletops, same red pleather bench seats in the booths. Some might have been reupholstered, but if so, care had been taken to make sure they matched. He smiled and inhaled scents of tomato sauce, pizza spices, and toasted cheese with an overtone of spilled beer. At least one place in his past hadn’t changed.
After a few minutes, Jack returned with Holt’s drink, two small white plates, and a beer for himself. “Anita will bring the pie when it’s ready. You remember Anita Russo? In the class behind ours? She’s a Romano now. I married her.”
Holt nodded, picturing a petite girl with lustrous, dark hair. “How long ago?”
“Ten years and three kids.” Jack shook his head. “Best years of my life, so far.” He lifted his glass in a mock toast and took a drink.
“No kidding? With three kids?”
“Sure. They’re a pain, but they’re also a lot of fun. Gotta have someone to leave this place to someday like my old man did to me. You married?”
“No.” Holt’s stomach sank. The way he let work consume him, he never would be married, especially if all the women he met were like Helen Conroe. Not that Caitlin was anything like her. But even Caitlin would be out of reach once she returned to Scotland. He’d always heard long-distance relationships were difficult and complicated. The distance between California and Scotland would make theirs impossible. Holt chewed on that for a moment. He hadn’t been thinking in terms of a relationship with Caitlin Paterson, at least not one that involved more than some fun while they were both here. But the idea of Scotland being so far away that he would never see her again didn’t sit well with him.
Anita arrived with the pizza before he could try to analyze the empty feeling in his gut. The tantalizing scent of sauce, meats, and veggies distracted him into thinking he must just be hungry.
Anita was a slightly rounder, softer version of the girl Holt remembered, with a few silver strands showing in her dark hair, now cut short. He stood to greet her.
“Holt! It’s great to see you.” She put the pizza on the table and stepped closer to her husband.
“You look as gorgeous as ever, Mrs. Romano,” Holt told her, saddened that he hadn’t known her well enough to get a hug or, at least, a hand on his arm that a friend might have offered.
“Hey!” Jack teased. “That’smygirl.” He tucked an arm around her waist, and she leaned down for a kiss.
“It’s great to see you two so happy.” Holt smiled to hide the twinge of envy coursing through him.
“We’re doing all right,” Anita said with a smile. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.” She returned to the kitchen.
Holt resumed his seat. After they’d both had a bite of excellent pizza, Holt asked Jack, “How is your dad?”
Jack grinned. “Enjoying his retirement in Florida, lucky bastard.” He sobered. “I’m sorry about your mother. It’s been, what, five years?”
“Six.”
“She used to come in here now and again with some friends.” He paused, then asked, “So what brings you back?”
Holt sipped his drink before answering. “Her aunt left me her beach cottage. I’m wandering down memory lane while I decide what to do with it.”
“Wow, must be worth a fortune. A lot of upkeep, huh?”
“You could say that.” He snagged another slice of pizza. “And since I’ve been away, I’ve lost track of everyone. Do you know if any of those friends of my mother’s are still in the area?”
Jack shook his head. “Sorry, not a clue. Haven’t seen any of them in years.”
So the ones she came here with might have been co-workers at the defunct accounting firm, not friends. Holt pulled out one of his cards and wrote his private number on the back. “If you see any of them, could you ask them to give me a call? I have some family history questions. People she knew might have some answers.”
Jack took it and tucked it in a pocket. “Sure. Be happy to.”
They finished the pizza, and after telling Anita good-bye and getting a brotherly pounding on the back from Jack, Holt left. He hadn’t found any answers, but re-connecting with old friends had felt good. Better than he’d expected. He wondered what Caitlin would think about where he’d been. She’d probably tease him for unbending enough to find anything from his past he could enjoy. The idea of that felt good, too.
