Page 70 of True North

“You want me to see who it is?” I ask.

“No, no! You ice, I’ll entertain.”

Entertain?

She’s expecting company?

I send the spatula round for one last swipe, leaving a swirl that looks delectable. I drop the utensil in the sink with the bowl of icing and stand back.

Wow, she’s a real beauty.

I take the recipe in Mama’s handwriting from the counter and slide it safely into my folder. I’m not losing this one. A familiar low chuckle comes from the front of the restaurant. I glance at my wristwatch. Almost six. The last of the sun’s rays splinter through the front glass of the establishment, scattering its brilliant light over the red-and-white tables and chairs and glinting off the black-and-white tile floor. It’s serene.

“She won’t be long,” Mama says, rounding the corner as she waltzes in.

“You set me up, too?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Bambina, I have no idea what you talk about?” She smiles, then pulls a silly face.

I duck my head around the door.

Harry sits at a table for two, his hat under his chair, hands on the table by the cutlery flanking his plate. The other side of the table is now sporting a fresh place setting. Every other table is bare, seeing it’s the one day of the week the restaurant is closed.

“What did you do?” I whisper at her.

She chuckles, swiping up a tea towel and diving her hands into the hot, soapy water in the sink. She washes the icing bowl and sets it to drain. I pull the tea towel from her shoulders and dry it up.

“No, no. You and the cake have a date.”

“You’ve been talking to Rosie?”

“Bambina, the whole town’s been talking. You two are the only ones who aren’t seeing what’s happening.”

That’s not entirely true.

My mind flies back to the other day at the base of the mountains. The ride home. The unspoken things exchanged with the smallest of looks as we swayed our way back to the homestead on horseback.

The spatula hits the draining rack. I reach to pick it up and she slaps my wrist away. “You go. Or will I have to take your place?” Her brows shoot up, the cheekiest smile blooming on her kind, wrinkled face.

“Alright. But we don’t need a village to figure out what this is between us.”

“Oh,mia cara, you have neither the choice in that nor the heart to tell a soul no. Go on now!” She waves me off. I untie the apron over my dress and fold it before placing it on my folder under the counter. I slide the cake plate from the counter and into my hands. It’s heavy.

Stepping into the dining area, I hold my breath as I walk the cake to the table. Heart thundering, I set it in the center of the table. Harry clears his throat and stands. “Lou.”

I meet his gaze, and my body vibrates with nervousness.

Dammit.

One little escapade into the mountains and I’m a puddle around Harry Rawlins. It takes a beat to steady my nerves enough to say, “Hey, hungry?”

“For cake?” His eyes darken, dipping to my mouth.

Yeah, me neither.

“Sit! Sit!” Mama squawks at us as she pulls out the linen from under each place, setting mine down on my lap. Harry catches his before she can do the same for him, dropping it beside his plate.

“Mangia! Eat, it’s only good fresh,” Mama insists.

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