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Thankfully, Solia’s squeal curtails George’s sentence before he can finish. Her hands covering her mouth, she practically skips to the room behind George. I adore her childlike excitement.
She spends the next fifteen minutes taking selfies with Diane the turtle while George explains what Diane’s been up to the last fifteen or so years. They search the Wall of Fame for Solia’s old photo, and when they find it—a very young Solia grinning next to Diane—her shriek of excitement is worth every bit of torture listening to George’s turtle stories.
“Come back anytime. Diane always loves company,” George says as we make our way out of the shop.
“Thanks, George. See you soon.” I follow Solia out the door. “I’m not sure how much Diane enjoys visits, but I’m happy you enjoyed seeing her.”
“That was awesome. It’s amazing they’re both still here. I stepped back in time for a few minutes back there. And see? I’ve been part of Meriden all these years, just hanging around in George’s shop.” She laughs.
“Let’s keep it going. Fudge awaits.” The sun is setting, allowing dusk to settle in. Solia wraps her arm in mine, and there is nowhere I’d rather be.
The jingle of bells overhead announces our entry into Newfound Sweets. Walking toward the showcase, I put my arm around Solia’s shoulders and she squeezes in close to me, inspecting the selection. “Coffee fudge, white chocolate … each flavor looks tastier than the next. I’m not sure I can pick just one,” she says.
“Let’s each pick one to eat now and take one home.”
“Still difficult, but better. I’ll do peanut butter and then the second one, white chocolate.”
“Great minds think alike. I was going to do white chocolate.”
“Aww, we can’t do that. You pick two different ones, and we’ll share,” she says and begins pointing to other possibilities.
The clerk steps through the swinging door behind the counter and approaches the display. “Hi, guys, what can I get you?”
“We’ll take one each of the peanut butter, white chocolate, dark chocolate, and hazelnut.”
“Coming right up.” She collects our pieces and places them in a small white cardboard box.
“Let’s sit out here,” Solia says, pointing to a small wrought iron table and chairs outside the shop.
I hand her the peanut butter fudge and take my hazelnut out of the box. “Cheers to a blast from the past.” We each take a bite and I’m instantly thankful we stopped in. It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed this treat.
“Now, I want a bite of yours,” she says as she extends her piece to me. I lean in and take a nibble. “Good, right? My turn.”
I hold the hazelnut fudge to her lips and watch her teeth sink into the piece. “Mmm, so good.” A smudge of chocolate sticks to the corner of her mouth. I want nothing more than to kiss it away, but instead, I use my thumb. “Thanks,” she says as she crosses her legs and pulls her chair in closer. “So, everything went OK today at the orchard? It’s beautiful over there.”
“It is, isn’t it? Everything went as planned, no snags. Everyone seemed happy with the outcome.”
“Your grandparents are adorable.”
“They are. They’re the best. Speaking of family, you mentioned yours wants to sell the cabin. What’s up with that?” I lean closer and rest my elbow on the table.
“The short version is they’re ready for a change. They are tired of driving up in the winter, dealing with the shoveling and plowing. The expense and time the upkeep requires have taken a toll on them. My brother moved to North Carolina, so they’re thinking of going south a couple months of the year. It’s easier for them to sell than to maintain it. I couldn’t let it happen.”
“I can see where you’re coming from. The cabin and property are special, but maintaining everything is a lot of work.”
“It will be worth it, and I can handle it. My father has faith in me. My mother is a different story.” Solia sits back and crosses her arms.
“Oh, no doubt. I’m sure you can. You’re off to a great start.” We sit in silence for a few moments, watching people walk along the sidewalks as the shops begin to close their doors.
“Do you own trash cans?”
“I’m sorry, what?” I search her expression for understanding. “Yes, I own trash cans. Is that important to you?”
“Yeah, that came out weird. It’s just, the cabin’s on a private road, and I had to go to the town dump the other day. I was just wondering if that’s something you do.”
I throw my head back in laughter. “So you met Wayne? He’s a good guy. No, I don’t live on a private road. I have trash pickup.”
“Nice. It really stinks.”
