Page 175 of Homecoming

“Come where?”

“Just out here.”

He took the baby from her when they hit the sidewalk; held him in one arm so he could steer her with a gentle hand between her shoulder blades.

“Ghost,” she protested, curious now, twisting to look back at him.

He repressed a smile. “Look at the glass up there.”

They’d reached the café, and Evan, as instructed, had come by earlier to take the cardboard and plywood off the glass door. A small sign that readOpening Soonhung off the handle. And in artful blue script above, the door proclaimed the placeMaggie’s.

He could tell when the shock registered, because her back tensed beneath his hand, lungs expanding on a sudden, shocked breath. He watched her, nerves at their jangling peak, as she stared with wide eyes at the pale blue letters – designed by Ava, because he himself was hopeless, and applied to the glass by an expert – and slowly brought both hands up to her mouth.

In his experience, that could be a good or bad sign.

“You can be as involved as you want,” he said. “You can run it, work part-time, or just have your name on the door. We can even rename it, if you want.”

“Don’t you dare,” she breathed, then turned to him, hands clasped together beneath her chin, eyes shiny. “You bought me a restaurant?”

“A café, technically. But yeah.”

She braced both hands on his chest, and stretched up to kiss him.

“Take it you like it alright?” Ghost asked when she pulled back.

She kissed him again in answer. Then stepped back, vibrating with excitement. “I have so many recipes. God, this is gonna befun!”

And it was fun to watch her imagining it already, sketching plans in the air with her hands, her expression luminous.

Until his phone rang.

~*~

Carter couldn’t remember the last time he’d celebrated Mother’s Day. He certainly never had with a girlfriend and her parents.

The Cooks lived in a small, comfortable ranch house in an old, established neighborhood with lots of mature trees. Sunlight reached the bay window in the kitchen where they were having brunch in kaleidoscopic whirls and dots, leaf patterns dancing across the tabletop and the spread of baked goods, ham, and fresh fruit.

The food was excellent, as expected, but Carter hadn’t been able to eat much, stomach churning with nerves. This was the first time he and Leah had appeared together in front of her parents, as more than friends. Leah had assured him that she’d already told her mom about them, and Marie had been delighted to see him on the doorstep, all ready with a warm hug and a motherly kiss on the cheek.

Marshall, he could tell, was going to be a harder sell. He kept glancing at Carter from the corner of his eye, his expression stern and unreadable. His gaze weighed heavy on the side of Carter’s head, and he wasn’t sure if he should meet it head-on, man-to-man, or give in to his childish impulse to scrunch down in his chair and play meek.

“We signed the lease this week,” Marie said. “And Mr. Shaman”–

“What kinda name is that anyway?” Marshall grumbled in an aside to Carter, like he was looking for agreement.

–“is giving us a much better deal on the rent. We’re saving so much that we’ll be able to make those improvements to the shop we’ve been talking about.”

“Mom, that’s fantastic,” Leah said.

“Isn’t it?” Marie reached across the table, suddenly, and laid her hand over Carter’s, startling him. “And it’s all thanks to you, Carter. You have no idea – this is just…” She trailed off, and her eyes welled up, and he had no idea what he’d do if she started crying. Her fingers flexed and her nails pressed into the back of his hand as it was.

“Oh, well,” he hedged. “Um.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice wobbling. “You saved the shop.”

“Technically Ian – I mean, Mr. Shaman did.” He fought the urge to squirm in his chair.

Marshall said, “Come on, Marie, don’t make the boy uncomfortable.”

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