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“After dinner. I have an early day tomorrow.” He straightened the napkin under his silverware.
“And you’re building something?”
“A strip mall.”
“Right. Can’t have too many of those.”
“Do you have a problem with strip malls?”
“Not as long as they’re in Boise and not here.”
“No progress for Bridgeport?”
“Not at the expense of the Mom and Pop businesses.” He raised an eyebrow, and she added, “Why does that surprise you?”
“You don’t really seem like the small-town girl type.”
Ellen delivered their coffee, and Rachel picked up her cup. “I love this town.”
“Okay. Good to know.”
She took a sip of coffee. “Would a big city girl share her cinnamon roll with you?”
“I haven’t had one do it yet.”
“Well, there you go. I’m also not nearly as annoying as Milo would have you believe. It’s our thing. I annoy him. He annoys me. But in the end, if I call him in the middle of the night to come kill a spider, he shows up.”
“That says more about him than it does about you.”
“Wilda is a lucky woman. I hope you realize that.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
Ellen returned with the cinnamon roll, split between two plates, and set them down. “Anything else?”
Rachel leaned over and smelled the sweet icing dripping over the edge of the hot cinnamon bread. “This is perfect. Thank you.” Ellen left, and Rachel cocked her head. “Go ahead.”
“You want to watch me take my first bite?”
“Yes.”
He picked up his fork and sliced into the warm, gooey layer of cinnamon and raisins, then put it in his mouth. “Not bad.”
She reached across the table and nudged him. “Excuse me?”
He laughed. “Best cinnamon roll I’ve ever had.”
“That’s better.”
“Thank you for sharing.”
“You’re welcome.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Rachel set down her fork and took a sip of coffee. “Can I ask you about Wilda’s husband?”
“Sure.”
“What happened?”
