Chapter 35 Winnie #2
“I just—” I pause. “I care about him. A lot.”
“We know, sweetheart. Come on. Let’s get you home.”
As we’re gathering our things, I spot Pauline, who’s married to a man who survived smoke jumping and now works in admin. She catches my eye and gives me a small nod.
They’ve got this. They’re professionals. They’ll be fine.
But as I step back outside into the cool night air, I can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted.
Not just between Patton and me—though that definitely has.
But something bigger. Something that feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, not sure if I’m about to fly or fall … or if it isn’t a cliff after all.
In the distance, the horizon glows faintly orange. But it’s not the sunrise. It’s the fire at Alpine Ridge … and Patton is there, risking his life.
At home, sleep eludes me. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face when we stood on the steps. The vulnerability. The fear. The hope.
My phone sits on the nightstand, volume up, just in case.
Around two a.m. it buzzes.
Patton: Are you awake?
Me: Can’t sleep. You?
Patton: Taking a break. The fire is mostly contained.
Me: Everyone okay?
Patton: Crew has a couple of minor injuries. Nothing serious. No one was at the location, thank goodness.
Me: That’s good.
Patton: I keep thinking about tonight.
Me: Me too.
Patton: About what you said on the steps.
My heart, already trotting, takes off at a gallop.
Me: Which part?
Patton: The falling in love part.
Me: What about it?
Patton: Did you mean it?
This is the moment where I either tell the truth or deflect.
Me: Yes. I meant it.
The typing bubbles blink, then disappear. Tears sting my eyes—the good kind, the overwhelming kind. He must have been called back. I set down my phone, heart aflame, and finally drift off to sleep.
Sun streaming through the window, I wake to my phone ringing. Panic floods me as last night surfaces as if from a dream, no a nightmare. Is Patton okay? Only, it’s my brother.
“Hey, Fab,” I answer groggily.
“Win, I talked to a lawyer.” He sounds different. Hopeful?
I sit up. “And?”
“There might be a way to save the restaurant. It’s complicated and involves restructuring and probably some creative financing, but it’s possible.”
“Really?”
“Really. But we’d need professional help. Maybe a business consultant or—” He pauses. “I was thinking about Patton’s bakery. How they structured that. Do you think he’d be willing to share information?”
I think about Patton at Crush Cakes, surrounded by paperwork and permits and plans. How he navigated the captain’s will and the six-month requirement alone, much like I did with my attempts to save Sorrentino’s.
“I can ask him,” I say.
“Thanks, Win. And hey—I’m sorry I put so much pressure on you to fix this alone.”
“You didn’t—”
“I did. We all did. It wasn’t fair. This is our family’s problem. Not just yours.”
The relief that washes over me sends me back into my pillows. “Thanks, Fab.”
“And, uh, this is all contingent on whether or not Mom and Dad even want to keep the restaurant.”
“They’re not thinking about retiring, are they?”
“No, but, get this—”
There’s chatter in the background, a mixture of Italian and English.
“They’re considering consolidating, buying a food truck, and going part time, picking events and locations when they want to work. It would be on a smaller scale and mobile, but they might be ready for change.”
Fully alert, I tell him how wonderful I think this news is. It’s like they were holding onto the old with a death grip and this is just what they needed to shake things up. He tells me that they’re open to options, but are already researching vans and trucks.
We talk a little more and after we hang up, I lie back down, processing.
Maybe the restaurant isn’t entirely lost. Maybe there’s a way forward, even if it’s different from what has been. Perhaps things are starting to look up.
My phone buzzes again.
Mindy: Coffee date to discuss the bet and your love life? Please say yes. I need details.
A laugh trickles out of me.
Me: Fine. But you’re buying.
Mindy: Deal. Dot’s at ten?
Me: See you there.
I get out of bed with the feeling that today is a turning point. As I’m getting ready, my phone rings again with a call from an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Winnie? It’s Cathryn Cross. Patton’s mom.” Her voice is warm. “I hope I’m not calling too early.”
Panic rises in me and I actually have to sit down. “Is everything okay?” My voice is shaky.
“Oh yes, fine. I heard about last night—both the Ball and the bet.” She pauses.
“I would have been there, but I had the final meeting of my Bible study and was the host. I’m wondering if you’d have time to meet for lunch before you see Patton this afternoon.
There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. ”
My stomach flips. “About …?”
“About my son and the future. Nothing bad, I promise. Just a conversation. Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve visited Huckleberry Hill. I’d say I’m well overdue.”
I hesitate. “Okay. Where and when?”
“Huck’s at noon?”
“I’ll be there.”
I race to get ready for church while tracking my suddenly full agenda.
Coffee with Mindy at ten. Lunch with Patton’s mother at noon. Hopefully, seeing him sometime in there. Today is shaping up to be either the best day of my life or a complete disaster.