Page 8 of Cherry on Top

“Wants to buy his own place. Coffee shop slash bakery of some kind, somewhere.”

“He’ll be good at that.”

“He’s already good at that,” Luca said wryly. “I said Oliver was teaching him, but I think they’re teaching each other.”

“Aw, feeling a little left out?” Enzo asked knowingly.

“Maybe I’m not happy you’re coming home, after all.”

But Enzo knew he was, and he realized, again, that he hadn’t been lying to his mom, when he’d told her he was happy, too.

This was going to be good. He could reconnect with Luca and Oliver. Hang out with Rocco. Paint a mural. Indigo Bay should have an Enzo Moretti mural. It only made sense.

Yes, the deli had the interior mural he’d done, before he’d even gone to school, but this one would be for the whole town, in a spot everyone could enjoy it.

“Liar,” Enzo said jokingly.

“Smug asshole,” Luca retorted fondly.

“Just a Moretti.”

Luca laughed.

“See you in a few weeks, cousin,” he said.

“Uh-oh,” Kate said under her breath to Will as she scooped ice cream into a banana split dish.

“What?” He was distracted. He had two ice cream cones to scoop, a sundae to build, and a milkshake to blend. Cherry’s was busy, maybe busier than they’d been since they opened, full of customers enjoying his ice cream and his frozen concoctions. It was only about an hour til closing, but the weather, warming up every week since he’d been open, had finally started to draw the town in like insects towards a lamp.

“Giana’s here.”

Will glanced up and sure enough she was winding her way through the shop, between the bright white spindly chairs and the magenta enameled tables, shoes clicking purposefully on the black and white checkerboard tile.

“I gotta finish this order,” he hissed.

“She’s not gonna want to talk to me,” Kate retorted as she sliced open a banana and nestled each half on either side of the ice cream.

“She might,” Will theorized. But sure enough, he could see out of the corner of his eye that she was heading right in his direction, bypassing the line of customers, Mari, his newest employee, was taking care of.

“Will! Will!” Giana said excitedly, trying to get his attention loudly.

She hadn’t had to shout. He was right there, just on the other side of the long ice cream case.

He looked up, bowing to the inevitable. “Sorry, Giana, we’re slammed,” he said apologetically, giving her one of his best “customer service” smiles. “It might be a while before Mari can get to you.”

“Oh no, I’m not here for ice cream.” She beamed, and if Will thought he’d been treated to a Moretti smile before, he was floored by the one she was wearing now. “I’m here for you! To tell you Enzo will be home soon. For weeks!”

“That’s great. I’m really happy for you,” Will said, meaning it. Clearly she loved her son a lot, and considering he’d been in town for six months and hadn’t met him yet, Enzo didn’t come home much.

“I am too. And of course, happy for you, because you will finally meet him.”

“Giana,” Will warned. He scooped ice cream into the aluminum milkshake tin and added milk from a carton he grabbed from the mini fridge below the counter.

“I know, I know, you are too busy to date. But the first time I saw you, I knew. You were perfect for my Enzo. Big and strong and handsome, and you work hard. You made this place beautiful, when it was a dump before. Only someone with a little bit of art in their soul could do that.”

Or someone who was desperate to carve something out for himself, Will thought rebelliously.

It had taken a lot of long, hard hours to turn the dirty, dusty, partly dilapidated old hardware store into the bright, shiny white and cherry pink ice cream parlor with its white lacy-backed chairs, magenta-topped tables, and long soda counter with a curved glass ice cream case punctuating the middle, stretching the entire length of the big room.

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