Chapter 9
“Yeah, I know where Goose Creek Lane is,” Ty said. “Thanks so much, Link.”
“I’ll call right now,” he said. “They should be able to get you a table that will be exactly what you’re looking for.”
“Thanks,” Ty said again, and he ended the call as he took a deep breath.
He really did need to calm down a little bit.
He, once again, felt the pressure of a Saturday night date having to be absolutely perfect for him and Winnie.
Maybe because it was their first one, maybe because she looked so pretty with her hair curled and her lips all shiny, or maybe because it had started with her face as pale as the moon and her eyes as wide as that, and her body shaking against his as he held her.
No matter what, he didn’t want to go back to Squared Away, where the music played too loud, Winnie wouldn’t dance with him, and they wouldn’t even be able to hear each other talk.
He turned toward her, and his left leg sent a twinge of pain up to his hip. “It’s only a five-minute drive from here,” he said, new hesitation inside him that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.
Thankfully, Winnie linked her arm through his and took the first step toward the truck. “Okay, cowboy. I’m willing to go five more minutes.”
Ty smiled at her. “Link says he’s gonna call ahead, and he has enough clout to pull some strings.” Link’s status around town, as well as his money, did that, even though he didn’t use them.
Ty got Winnie settled back in the truck, and he made the quick five-minute drive over to Goose Creek Lane, which was far quieter than Main Street had been. Festive Christmas lights decorated the house which bore the label of Home that Ty parked across the street from.
“Home,” Winnie said the word out loud and then turned to look at him.
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be really good,” Ty said. “Down-home, good Southern cooking. Quiet tables, and Link says the Americano is to die for.” He chuckled as he unbuckled his seat belt. “Of course, I’ve never met anyone who loves an Americano more than Link.”
He once again collected Winnie from the truck, and they crossed the street to the house, which still had Christmas decorations in the windows and a couple of birdhouses out front, with Santa Claus gnomes and rocks with painted handprints on them.
“This is really cute,” Winnie said. “I like it already.”
He had to climb nine steps to get to the porch, which spanned the entire front of the house and had a table for two on each end of it. They went inside, and no bells rang as they did, and his boots landed on carpet as he approached the hostess stand.
“You must be Tyson,” the woman there said, and her smile shone as brightly as the northern star.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Give me two seconds to check with Davy,” she said. “To see if your table is ready.” She picked up two menus and moved away from the station. She had only taken a few steps before she turned back and gestured for Ty to come with her. “I see he’s ready. You can come with me.”
She led him into the living room where four or five tables had been populated with people.
They went into what had to have been the house’s formal dining room at some point, and right there, looking out a big bay window, stood a man wearing black from head to toe and an apron very much like the one Ty wore when he worked the restaurant at the apple orchards.
“This is Davy,” the woman said. “This is Ty and Winnie. He’s going to be your waiter tonight, and I’ll let him take you two from here.”
Ty pulled out Winnie’s chair for her, and she sat down. He did the same, feeling sparkly all over as Davy handed him a menu.
“Have you guys been with Home before?” he asked.
“No,” Ty said. “But my friend has told me how amazing it is.”
“Oh, that’s great to hear,” Davy said. “We offer what’s called a split menu.
You pick either Track One or Track Two, and you eat off that menu.
Tonight, we’ve done a Southern fried chicken meal for Track One, and it comes with buttermilk mashed potatoes, lemon-pepper asparagus spears, homestyle gravy with plenty of black pepper, and a dark chocolate pistachio cheesecake that is to—die—for.
” He grinned over to Winnie. “Yeah, I think you’re the dark-chocolate lover. ”
Winnie beamed right on back at him. “I have been known to consume quite a bit of dark chocolate in the past.”
Ty made a mental note of that, hoping he wouldn’t forget it before he could write it down.
“On Track Two,” Davy said. “We’ve gone seafood, with a beautiful blackened salmon that comes with a sweet pea risotto and heirloom multi-colored carrots.
All of our meals come with crusty homemade bread, apple butter from the orchards right here in town, and a signature salted butter that I’ll bring out and talk to you more about.
Can I get either of you anything to drink? ”
“I’d love a ginger ale,” Ty said. “With lots of lime wedges, if you’ve got them.”
“I do,” Davy said. “And for you, ma’am?”
“Can I have this orange-cranberry spritzer?” she said, peering at the menu. “It says you have a nonalcoholic version. Can I get that virgin?”
“Absolutely,” Davy said. “I’ll be back with the bread and the drinks in just a couple of minutes. Oh—we have a common appetizer for both Tracks One and Two, and tonight it’s a cheesy sausage and polenta with a house-made marinara. Would you guys like that?”
“Absolutely,” Ty said.
Davy grinned, knocked a couple times on the table, and walked away.
Ty picked up his silverware packet and unwrapped the utensils so he could drape the napkin in his lap.
“This is really nice,” Winnie said, glancing around the restaurant. She met his eyes, a hint of trepidation in hers. “But there are no prices on this menu.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
Winnie’s lips pursed for a moment, and then she nodded and looked down at her menu. “I think I’m going to get the chicken. I’ve never been much of a salmon fan.”
“Me either,” he said, and she looked up. An electric zing moved through him, and he cataloged that they had another thing in common. It might be ridiculous, but it made him smile.
In the background, low, lilting music played, and the people at the other tables kept their voices quiet and their conversations private, making the atmosphere here exactly what Ty wanted it to be.
“So tell me,” he said. “Do you have any other siblings besides Taylor?”
“Yes,” Winnie said. “We’ve got an older brother—Brad. He’s seven years older than me, and he’s been married for a few years and has a little girl named Windy, like the weather.”
“That’s cute,” Ty said. “So you’re a middle child too.”
“I don’t think I ever said Taylor was younger than me,” she said.
“Yeah, but she is,” Ty said, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, she is.” She unwrapped her silverware too. “You’ve got an older sister and a younger brother, is that right?”
“That’s right,” Ty said.
Davy returned with their drinks and a gloriously huge basket of bread that contained a dark bread with oatmeal on top, a couple of Asiago cheese rolls, and a soft honey whole wheat bun that Ty couldn’t wait to taste.
“And we’ve got two salted butters,” Davy said. “This one is plain sea salt from the Dead Sea. And this is our smoked pink Himalayan sea salt.”
“Wow,” Winnie said, leaning closer to examine the pink-salted butter. “It’s so beautiful. I don’t even want to eat it.”
“I totally want to eat it,” Ty said, and his own stomach rumbled at him to give it something good.
Davy chuckled. “Have you two decided what you’re going to have?”
“Yes,” Ty said, reaching for Winnie’s menu. “We both want the chicken dinner.”
“Excellent,” Davy said, and he took the menus from Ty. “Your sausage and polenta is almost done, and I’ll bring it right out.”
“Thank you,” Winnie and Ty said together.
Once Davy left, Ty once again found himself at a loss for what to say to Winnie.
She hadn’t seemed to want to expound on her familial relationships, especially Taylor, and Ty scrambled to find something else to ask her.
He didn’t want tonight’s date to be a repeat of some of his previous ones lately, where he’d sat there like a fool—mute, unable to come up with anything to start a conversation.
“Tell me how you learned sign language,” he said, because that seemed safe enough. “Is someone in your family deaf?”
“No,” Winnie said. “I just started taking it in junior high, and I loved it.” She reached for a straw and unwrapped it to put in her virgin cocktail. “I’ve always known I’d work in a service industry, and for a while, I thought I might be an interpreter.”
Ty reached for one of the honey whole wheat rolls and the regular salted butter. “Colt will be thrilled that his apple butter is here,” he said. “I’m going to take a picture of it for him.” He did that, and then he held up his phone and added, “Let me get a picture of you with your drink.”
She lifted it up to her face and wore the widest smile Ty had ever seen. He snapped a photo, something that felt so much like joy painting him from the inside out. He hadn’t felt this way in such a long time, he hardly knew what to do with it.
“Here’s the sausage polenta,” Davy said. “I can get a picture of the two of you, if you’d like.”
Ty’s heartbeat stuttered, and he wasn’t sure when he’d last taken a picture with a woman. But Winnie said, “Yeah, sure. You can use my phone.” She handed it to Davy, and then she folded her arms on the table in front of her and leaned forward.
Ty followed her lead, the scent of marinara meeting his nose. He hitched a smile to his face, hoping he didn’t look absolutely ridiculous.
“Right there,” Davy said, and then he lowered the phone. He handed it back to Winnie, who beamed her sunshine down at the screen. While she sighed over the photo, Ty scooped out some polenta and a few pieces of sliced sausage, put them on a plate, and pushed it in front of her.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he said.