Page 10 of Three Little Wishes

And as she sat at the table, lifting a forkful of gnocchi to her mouth, inhaling the fragrant basil scent, she promised herself she’d find one. As soon as she finished eating, she’d call her aunt’s assistant, asking her to let Camilla know the matter had been resolved and thanking her for her time.

Then would come the hard part, convincing Noah Elliot to give them until the end of summer to find another buyer for the station. Willow pulled her phone from her pocket to call Megan, unable to resist taking another bite before she did. She moaned her appreciation. “This is so good, Nonna. What’s the sauce?”

“How do you not know this? Pistachio pesto.” Her grandmother pointed at the grainy olive-green sauce drizzled over the gnocchi and creamy white rounds of ricotta cheese.

“I don’t need to know because I have a nonna, mom, and zia who are magnificent cooks and who love to feed me.” She smiled at both her grandmother and her mother.

Ignoring their silent exchange—they were always on her case about learning to cook—Willow pointed at her phone and pressed an icon. “I just have to make a quick call.” It went straight to voicemail. “Megan, get back to me as soon as you get this. It’s an emergency.” Willow disconnected and wolfed down the rest of the gnocchi. “So good. I wish I had time for seconds, but I don’t.” She pushed back from the table and stood up.

Her mother and grandmother said, “Sit.”

Willow’s knees went weak. Praying Camilla hadn’t called them and ratted her out, she slowly lowered herself onto the chair. “What’s wrong?”

Gia and Carmen took a seat on either side of her. “We’re worried about you,” her mother said, taking Willow’s hand in hers. “Mr. Lowell called. He said he asked you to move out two weeks ago and that you haven’t been looking for another place to live. He’s concerned you won’t leave.”

Willow couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed her mind. Channel 5 had done a story on a couple who wouldn’t move out of their rental, and they were still there a year later. “I can’t believe he told you guys. And how does he know I haven’t already found a place?”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us? We’re your family,” her grandmother said.

“I know, Nonna. But come on, I’m twenty-eight.”

Her grandmother muttered something in Italian. Other than a few swear words and the restaurant’s menu, Willow didn’t speak or understand the language but she had a feelingCarmen might’ve said something along the lines ofTwenty-eight going on twelve.

Her mother sent Carmen a quelling look, which seemed to support Willow’s suspicion. “He felt bad he had to ask you to leave. He knows July is a terrible time to find something to rent. Which is why your nonna and I wanted to suggest you take over your zia Eva’s apartment.”

Carmen nodded. “Sì, and you don’t have to pay rent.”

“I can’t take advantage of you like that. As much as I appreciate the offer, and I really do, I can’t take handouts anymore.”

“So no more free food and drinks then?” Carmen asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Ma, they need you in the kitchen,” Willow’s mother said, clearly exasperated with Carmen.

“Nonna’s right.” Willow traced her initials on the table as her grandmother walked off, yelling, “What do you want?” at the kitchen staff.

“Don’t listen to her. There’s nothing Ma likes better than feeding you girls. She’s just upset you didn’t come to us as soon as Mr. Lowell gave you notice. You know how much she hates being the last to know when it comes to her family. She didn’t talk to your zia for a week when she found out from Bruno that they were spending the month in England.”

Willow’s aunt and uncle were in England for his daughter’s wedding. Willow’s cousin and her family were there too.

“Thanks, Mom. But Nonna has a point. I’ve got to get my act together. And I promise, I’ll set some time aside this week to find an apartment.”

Her mother leaned in and gave her a hug. “The apartment is yours if you need it. But look, there’s Megan. Maybe she has something for you.” She waved at Willow’s best friend,who’d walked into the restaurant with none other than Noah Elliot at her side.

“Wish me luck.” She kissed her mother’s cheek before hurrying to where Megan and Noah waited by the hostess stand. “Megs!” Willow nodded at Noah and grabbed her best friend’s hand. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

Megan gave her anare you kidding me?look while pulling her hand free and placing it on Noah’s arm. “Maybe later. Bruno’s holding a table for Noah and me. Have you two met?”

Willow held back an eye roll. Megan got all coolly professional when she was in the company of a potential client, especially one with money. And Noah looked and smelled like money.

Willow forced a smile, at the same time praying Noah didn’t say anything about their disastrous first meeting to Megan, and held out her hand. “Not formally. Willow Rosetti, Mr. Elliot. I was hoping to have a chance to talk to you earlier but you’d already left the station.”

His dark gaze roamed her face as he took her hand in his. Frowning, he said, “I thought your name was Lucy.”

Megan laughed. “Everyone calls her Lucy because she reports the weather as the Lobster Pot’s mascot. You have to see her in costume. It’s hilarious.”

“I have seen her in costume,” he said, and Willow braced herself, waiting for him to out her to Megan. But instead, his gaze came back to her, and there was something about the way he was looking at her that made her feel as if she’d gulped down a glass of prosecco, all warm and fizzy inside.

“Are you the Willow from Hidden Cove? The summer of 2011?” he added when she simply stared at him, trying to process what he seemed to be suggesting.

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