Chapter 2
Chapter Two
LOUISA
T he heavenly fragrances of Italian cuisine wind around me as the small older women in front of me opens the front door.
Mama’s Place.
Lewistown, Montana.
It’s surprising how the same this town is since I left over a decade ago. My parents moved on, but it always felt like home to me. Besides, I don’t think I could face them now. My plans were grand. I was sure I would make it.
Almost did.
Shame, as petty as it can be, saw me pack up and come back to the last place that I felt safe. The last place I felt like myself. And free. Without expectations. The workload. Studying and long shifts. I worked my ass off in Cali for the chance at my dream. Nobody could ever say I didn’t try.
All I want to do now is cook, earn myself enough to live a simple life for a while. That plan has me standing shy of the threshold of the only Italian restaurant in town. I loved coming here before I left.
“Louisa, bella, look at you! You got so beautiful!” Mama Mancini holds her arms open as if inviting me into a hug. I stand with one small overnight bag and my handbag. My worldly possessions rolled into a single overnighter. What do you really need to live a good life, anyway?
She ushers me through the door when I don’t fall into the hug.
“Oy, I see how it is, tesoro. You follow me.”
“It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Mancini. Thank you for putting me up in the apartment, it’s appreciated.”
“Ah.” She waves over her shoulder as she takes the steps slowly, hand tight around the rail. We ascend to the apartment over the restaurant. She unlocks the door and holds it for me.
“Thank you. Are you sure that rent you mentioned on the phone is enough? It didn’t sound like much?” I ask.
The pittance she is asking for this spacious two-bedroom apartment took me by surprise.
“You can help out in the kitchen from time to time, hey? Your mama used to say you enjoyed cooking?”
“Yes, I do. I would love to, thank you.”
“You get a job at Darla’s Diner like you hoped to?” she asks as she turns on the light switch.
“I did, four shifts a week. Maybe some weekends, too.”
“That’s good. A woman needs to be busy. Idle hands...”
“I’ve heard that before.” I smile at her. She is the sweetest.
She pats my cheek and takes my hand. Turning it over, she drops the keys in my palm. “You eat dinner with us a few times a week, hey? I could use some company other than il marito .”
I tilt my head with a frown.
“Someone besides Mr. Mancini.” She winks.
I chuckle and thank her as she makes her way down the stairs, slower than before. When she clears them without incident, I shut the door and turn the lock. Old Cali habit. Guess it’s not as needed in Lewistown.
I lean against the door and close my eyes, letting my head fall back to thud on the wood. “A fresh start. It’s only up from here, Louisa. You can do this.”
I look around the apartment. The small green L-shape kitchen is in one corner with a weathered rectangular wooden table with two chairs. An old blue sofa that looks like it’s seen better days sits on the other side of the room. Three doors dot the wall across from me. I’m guessing that’s the bathroom and two bedrooms.
I pluck up my bag and walk for the center one. Opening the door, I find a small bathroom. A white ceramic pedestal vanity sits under a small mirrored cabinet. Black-and-white tiles cover the floor, and a clawfoot bath sits under the only window in the room. No shower. How old-school Lewistown.
I try the next door, left of the bathroom. Bedroom one. The window overlooks the ugly metal roofs of downtown Lewistown. Trying the next one, I find a huge front bedroom. Soft, sheer lemon-yellow curtains flow over the open window. An old cast-iron canopy bed with ornate swirls in the headboard is the centerpiece of the room. A long sofa under the window with a small side table. I’ve never had this much space for myself.
Needless to say, apartments in Cali are tight.
I’m liking this change. More than I thought I would. I drift to the window, looking down on Main Street. Everywhere I look in the small one-horse town, all I find are snippets of memories of another lifetime.
Each one featuring him.
From the day I met Harry Rawlins, he was a force of nature. Always so few words. But the impact he had on me...
“Come on, Louisa!” Mom called from the driveway.
New school. New friends.
Yay... Not.
Changing schools at sixteen is nobody’s idea of fun. Let alone mine.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” I call down through my bedroom window. Mom throws her hands up. In truth, I have been dreading this move. I don’t make friends easily, and the thought of talking to strangers has me tied up in knots.
I run a brush through my unruly hair once more and swipe up my satchel before running down the stairs and through the front door.
In the car, Mom sighs at me before pulling out the drive. We make it to the new school as the bell rings.
Great, just great.
Next thing, I’m staring at the most uptight principal I have ever seen. His comb-over and knee-high socks are ridiculous.
“Miss Masters, you may go to class now. Your buddy will be along to show you around shortly. Don’t make a habit of being late. Not the greatest start for a new student.” His reprimand shines in his eyes as much as it’s carried in his words.
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s a good kid, really—” The door closes behind me, cutting off my mother’s plea. The principal’s original take of me is spot-on. I’m not a straight A student. The core subjects do nothing but bore me. Guess that’s what I would call it when I spend the majority of the class dreaming up new recipes.
Science is okay, at least I get to use a burner and boil stuff.
Not that it’s edible.
I make my way to the locker that’s to be mine. A bunch of girls stand nearby, their scathing gazes running the full length of me. They chuckle between themselves, most likely entertained by my hand-me-down clothes. One steps forward and opens her mouth to say something before someone snaps the group’s attention. When they all turn at once, like a pack of lionesses who just sniffed out a gazelle, I slide in by my locker, doing my best to ignore them.
“Hi,” one coos at whoever is approaching. I don’t hear a response, but by the footfalls, I can tell it’s a guy.
“How was your summer, Harry?” Another giggles.
Heavens above.
Harry doesn’t respond, simply walking past.
He must be a year or so older than us. He is definitely a senior. His dark hair is messy, his deep blue eyes land on me, and he adjusts his backpack over his shoulder. Wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, his form is fully on display. Biceps, chest, and those legs. He either works out or works hard. My guess, by his calm demeanor, is the latter.
My face heats when his gaze lingers. A slight scowl tells me he wants to be here about as much as I do. The scoffs of the girls behind me see it flame red.
Shit.
“You Louisa?” he says, slowing down. “S’posed to show you your classes.”
Um, okay...
“Ah—tha—thanks?”
I hesitate but grab my books as he keeps walking, not looking back.
Crap.
“Oh my god. Do you guys know each other?” one of the girls demands.
Seriously, how did they come to that conclusion from that interaction?
“I—”
The second bell screams overhead. I slam my locker shut and catch up to him. But all I can think of are those deep blues and that face. My stomach explodes with butterflies as he opens the door and nods for me to go inside.
“Meet you here after class. Don’t go wanderin’ off.”
I haven’t heard from Harry for over a decade. The last night I saw him, he dropped to one knee. And like a young, scared, desperate girl who felt the need to prove herself, I up and ran.
Home. Then to California.
God above, he probably hates me.
I did love him. As much as a seventeen-year-old girl could. That much I know.
But small-town plans were never mine.
I scoff a laugh at myself.
Look at me now. Back here. The big city drop-out.
Looks like Harry knew something I didn’t. I hope things aren’t awkward when I run into him. When , because this little town isn’t going to let me out of seeing him. My heart races at the thought of who he became. What he’d be like now. Maybe he’s married.
He probably is.
My stomach turns, sending an ache to my heart.
Dammit.
* * *
My alarm squawks at six a.m. My cue to dress and get ready for my first shift at the diner. I brush my teeth and pull on my jeans and a blue button-down shirt, hoping my uniform will be ready. I plan on changing when I arrive.
I grab my purse and keys and jog down the stairs. The restaurant downstairs is closed, chairs on tables. I unlock the front door, making sure to lock it behind me before crossing the street and heading to work. I pull my long hair into a ponytail as I walk toward Darla’s.
I make it the three blocks to work to find two other women standing around out front. They are in peach uniform dresses. One pulls a drag on a cigarette, a rolled up white apron under one arm. They turn toward me in unison.
“Hi,” I offer. “Louisa, first shift.”
“Lisa,” the brunette with the cigarette says with a small smile.
“Cynthia, hon. And welcome to your first day. You take the regulars, hey? No time but the present to learn their set-in ways.” She winks at me.
I chuckle.
“Sounds good.”
The door opens, a tiny silver bell chiming as it does. The two women file in past the older woman in her peach waitress dress and white apron. “You must be Louisa?”
“Yes, ma’am. Darla?”
With a nod, she waves me in. “Come on in, hon. Your uniform is in back waitin’ for you.”
I beam at her.
So far, so good.
I walk in after the others. Cynthia turns back with astonishment over her face. “Hey! Weren’t you on that cooking show a few weeks back?”
I freeze on the spot. My mouth opens.
Nothing comes out.
Shit.