Chapter 37 Winnie
WINNIE
My bags are in the trunk, packed with clothes I threw in without thinking. Sweaters, jeans, dresses, the gown from last night. My toothbrush. The essentials for running away from my problems like a completely rational adult.
The keys are still in the ignition, the engine ticking as I try to remember what possessed me to flee.
Oh right. Pure terror that loving Patton Cross means watching him run into fires for the rest of his life while I wait at home, wondering if he’ll come back.
My phone buzzes with another text from Mindy asking if I’m okay. I silence it and grab my purse.
This is fine. I’m fine. Everything is completely, totally, absolutely fine.
Grandma Joyce appears on the porch in her bathrobe, coffee mug in hand, looking like she expected this. She taps on my window.
I lower it, attempting a bright smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Good morning! I was just—”
“Running away?”
My smile falters. “I went for a drive.”
“With a suitcase?”
“It was a long drive … of deliberation.”
She raises one eyebrow—the same look she gives Judy Waples when she’s being ridiculous. “Where were you going, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know. Away.”
“That’s running.”
“Maybe I needed to run.” My voice cracks on the last word, betraying me.
Grandma leans against my car door, unbothered by the cool morning mountain air. “From him or from yourself?”
The question hits like a slap. “What?”
“From Patton or from the part of you that’s terrified of being happy?”
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. “That’s—I’m not—”
“You are.” She takes a sip of her coffee, maddeningly calm. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to fix everyone else’s problems. The restaurant, your family, this town. But the moment someone wants to help carry your load? You panic.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. But love plays an honest hand and that man loves you.”
Tears sting my eyes. “What if loving him means losing him? What if—?”
“What if the sun doesn’t come up tomorrow?
What if the lake freezes solid? What if Judy Waples actually admits my brownies are better?
” She shakes her head. “You can’t live in the what-ifs, Winnie.
Trust me, I tried after your grandfather died.
Nearly missed the rest of my life because I was so busy being afraid. ”
I grip the steering wheel, knuckles white. “What I was doing was familiar, but things with Patton are so new. So foreign. I have no idea how to do this.”
“Nobody does. That’s the point.” She straightens, patting my car door. “You came back. Didn’t get much past Route 50.”
How does she know? Oh, right. Small town.
“That means something. Now, either drive away again and spend the rest of your life wondering, or stay and figure it out. Your choice.”
She heads back inside, leaving me alone in my car with my racing thoughts.
I sit there for another five minutes, then ten. The sun plays peek-a-boo over Huckleberry Hill. The mountains. The lake. The town I’ve somehow fallen in love with, despite my plans to leave, eventually.
The town where Patton lives.
I don’t go back inside yet. But I’m not going back to Reno either. Instead, I drive to the lookout point on the edge of town—the one that offers a panoramic view of the valley below. It’s too early for tourists, so I have the place to myself.
I park and get out, wrapping my coat tighter against the morning chill. From here, I can see the entire village—the municipal complex with its glass walls, the old firehouse-turned-bakery, Main Street with its quirky shops, even Grandma’s cottage near the lake.
But not the future.
My phone rings and I flinch, having a twitchy reaction to it, after all the calls from my brother, the surprise call from Patton’s mother, and, of course, the newfound perpetual fear of the official kind of call that no one ever wants to get about someone they love.
I almost don’t answer, but guilt wins out and I glance at the screen. It’s my mother. “Hi, Mom.”
“Vincenza! Your brother told me about the restaurant.”
My stomach twists. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I tried to send money, but it wasn’t enough, and—”
“Stop.” Her voice is firm but gentle. “Honey, why didn’t you tell us what you were doing?”
“I wanted to help.”
“You did help. More than we ever should have let you.” She sighs.
Dad’s voice comes through the speaker. “We failed you, bambina. We let you think it was your job to rescue the restaurant.”
“But it’s your life—”
“It’s just a restaurant. A building. Yes, we’re sad it’s closing. But we’re not devastated. We’re actually … relieved?” Mom says as if the notion is entirely new.
I blink. “Relieved?”
“We’ve been chained to that place for thirty-five years.” My mother sounds more exhausted than usual.
Dad says, “Never took a real vacation.”
“Never pursued other dreams. We just kept running in place because we were too scared to stop.” She exhales.
Dad, with the kind of vigor he gets in his voice when his cream sauce is perfect, says, “Turns out, sometimes things need to end so something better can begin.”
“Like what?”
There is a pause as if they’re exchanging a look.
Mom says, “Like a food truck!”
They tag-team the conversation with excitement.
“It would give us more flexible hours.”
“Less overhead.”
“The freedom to travel.”
“We’re even thinking of moving closer to you.”
My eyes widen, cartoon-like. “You want to move here?”
“Huckleberry Hill is where I grew up.” Mom’s voice softens. “Where your grandmother still lives. Your father and I ended up in Reno by accident, not by choice. But … it never quite felt like home.”
I think about how Huckleberry Hill felt foreign at first, then familiar, now a place I can’t imagine leaving. Maybe sometimes the place a person is meant to be isn’t where they started.
“I’d love that.”
Dad adds, “And perhaps it’s time for you to stop trying to save everyone and let yourself be saved for once.”
I narrow my eyes. Grandma must’ve told them about Patton.
“How will you afford it?” I ask even though that’s not my business.
“Well, after we pay you back—”
“You can’t pay me back.”
“Of course, we can,” my father barks.
“With what? Day-old spaghetti?” Though right now, comfort food sounds appealing.
“With the savings we’ve been stashing away under the mattress.”
My mother sounds googly-eyed when she says, “We’ve amassed a small fortune.”
“Then what was I doing trying to keep up with the restaurant bills?”
“Had we known how bad it was—”
“But it would’ve been so upsetting to you—”
“Vincenza Elizabeth,” my mother starts.
Papa switches to rapid Italian, scolding me for keeping the business end of things from him, but then his voice softens and he says that maybe, though it wasn’t very responsible, they were ignoring the reality of how business was struggling for a reason.
They apologize and tell me how much they love me.
After we hang up, I remain in my car, processing.
The restaurant is closing and my parents are okay. More than okay. They’re excited about their next chapter.
I couldn’t save Sorrentino’s. But perhaps I wasn’t supposed to.
I check my phone. I only have an hour until I’m supposed to meet Mindy for coffee. Two hours until lunch with Patton’s mom. Then I hope to find him at the bakery and kiss him crazy with relief that he’s okay.
However, the excitement of that thought is immediately extinguished by a major concern. What if I hold Patton back from his calling? The fears that had me packing up and leaving take up all the space that the restaurant occupied.
What if our relationship is a distraction? What if he has an opportunity and being with me keeps him from it? Thoughts like these follow me all the way to Dot’s Dots. Mindy is late, but that just gives me more time to stew.
We order a dozen, and I splurge on a cappuccino, now that my parents are going to replenish my savings account.
“You look terrible,” Mindy announces cheerfully.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“I mean it in the kindest way possible. Like you’ve been crying but also maybe having an existential crisis?” She tilts her head. “Am I warm?”
“Scorching.” I collapse into the chair at the bistro table and grab a doughnut hole, shoving the entire thing in my mouth.
“So. The Ball.” She leans forward.
“Hole,” I say around a mouthful, thinking she’s referring to the treats between us.
“I mean the Fireman’s Ball. The bet, the public, um, exposure during the honey roast. Um, how are we feeling?” She winces.
“We’re feeling like idiots who made bets about the people we were falling in love with.”
“But you talked it out? Everything is okay between you and Patton, right?” Her voice rises several octaves with anxiety.
She must feel responsible.
“We started to, but then he got called to a fire, and I almost ran away this morning, and now I’m supposed to have lunch with his mother, and—” I stop, realizing I’m spiraling. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re in love. Same thing.” She grabs a doughnut hole, studying me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What are you really scared of? Because it’s not the fire department. You’ve been watching him do that job for months.”
I close my eyes and lay bare my worries. “I’m scared I’ll be a distraction. That he’ll worry about me worrying about him, and it’ll make him less safe. I’m scared of being too much and not enough at the same time.”
“Wow. That’s impressively neurotic.”
“Um, rude?”
“I mean it as a compliment. You’re overthinking at Olympic levels.
” She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand.
“But here’s the thing. Patton is a grown man who chose a dangerous job long before he met you.
You’re not responsible for his safety any more than you were responsible for saving your family’s restaurant. ”
“When did you get so wise?”
“I’ve been taking long walks by the lake.” She grins. “Trying to figure out why I keep dating the wrong guys. Turns out, I’m afraid of commitment because I watched my parents’ messy divorce and decided love was a trap.”
“Mindy—”
“We’re not talking about me right now. We’re talking about how you need to show up at that bakery this afternoon and tell Patton all the reasons you’re going to be brave and love him without footnotes, asterisks, or conditions.”
“What if—?”
“No what-ifs. Just show up.” Her words echo Grandma’s. “Now eat your doughnut holes. You’re meeting his mother and you need to be prepared.”
We end up gabbing for another forty-five minutes about her love life, long term life goals, and everything in between. It feels good to listen and not try to rush in with solutions, to fix things.
But now, I have to go meet Patton’s mother. I could really use a drum roll, an encouraging word … or another doughnut hole.