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“Well, that’s good news,” I admit.
My mother reaches across the counter and takes my hand.
“I worry about you, Tris.”
Of course she does. My mother worries about everyone. Always.
“Maybe now isn’t the best time to consider expanding? Get a foothold in Bridgewater first.”
“He has a foothold in Bridgewater, Ma,” Gian says. “It’s the perfect time to expand.” My brother pulls up a stool to sit at the counter, Mom and Dad behind it, scurrying around the kitchen, as they do. I swear neither of them knows how to sit down.
“Well, with everything else going on . . .”
Ahh, here we go.
“Everything else meaning Evie?” I ask.
The past two days have been strained since our talk the other night. But we knew this was going to be a crazy week. I’m probably imagining things.
“She’s a good girl, Tris. Maybe it’s worth concentrating on the restaurant and your new relationship for now.”
She lets go of my hand and slides thePresstoward me.
“Did you see this?”
We’ve been in and out of About Town these past few weeks. So I haven’t looked. But I pull the paper toward me and scan it quickly.
Lee wrote about the Cucina Award, asking if the fact that we were both judged has put a strain on “this budding romance.”
Gian grabs the paper from me.
“This is awesome,” he says after looking at the column.
“Awesome, and maybe true?” Mom asks.
My father has already left the kitchen and is outside on the deck, where he can always be found this time of year, cup of coffee in hand, unless it’s raining.
“No,” I say with as much conviction as possible.
“I like her,” my mom says, though I’m not surprised. She’s told me that every day since I brought her home.
“I do too,” I admit.
Not one to have the attention away from him for too long, Gian butts in to ask Mom if she had a chance to look at the new logo he commissioned for the shop. My father was against changing it, but everyone else agreed it needed an update.
I grab my coffee mug and head outside, letting my mother and brother argue about the logo.
“So you think the mayor has a pulse on things?” I ask, sitting down next to my dad. Between the wooden deck slots in front of us, a good portion of Lake Shohola is in view. There are few boats out yet, but in another hour or two it will be busy, even on a weekday. The weather forecast basically guarantees it.
“I do. I wouldn’t worry about it. You never told me how it went with Frank.”
I fill him in, Dad and I talking business a natural state of things. He throws me by asking about Evie.
“Is it serious?”
I could count on one hand the number of times Dad and I have talked about a woman I’m dating.
“Maybe,” I admit.
