Page 64 of The Neighborhood Witch

The host guided them along a familiar path—a path Hugo had taken many times before. They weaved around a few tables, merely momentary obstacles, to their fated seats. The host placed the menus across from each other. The white linen tablecloth, nearly immaculate, draped over the round table. Neatly folded black napkins. A red Venetian candle jar rested in the center. The light flickered back and forth inside. The snowy setting outside was a backdrop for their evening through the corner windows.

“Enjoy,” the host said before departing.

Hugo helped remove Alice’s tailcoat and set it down on his seat. He held the seat while she sat down.

“Such a gentleman,” she said.

“Well, I try to be,” he replied as she helped push in her chair.

Alice removed her hat and handed it to Hugo. He took them over to one of the many coat racks placed throughout the restaurant. He took off his black wool winter coat and placed it next to hers. He returned and sat in his usual seat, the one in the corner of the window.

They watched through the window as the freshly falling snow enshrouded the landscape like their own personal snow globe. The white blanket covered the parked cars and sidewalks with a fine layer of powder. The perfect snowy canvas imprinted with the footprints of people passing by outside. The orange glow of the town lights splashed across the low hanging blanket of clouds swirling above. The restaurant was crowded, but to Hugo, they were the only two in this intimate setting.

“It’s very beautiful,” Alice said.

“It’s why we always tried to get this table,” Hugo replied. “It offers the best possible views both outside and inside.”

He found Alice’s eyes, focusing on her wide-eyed gaze. He smiled, and she returned the gesture. The purple hair. Her emerald green eyes. It drove him wild. He wanted to launch himself across this table into her waiting arms. He hadn’t felt this emotional since—

“Welcome back, buddy boy,” a familiar Italian accented voice interrupted. The strong smell of cheap cologne filled his nostrils. “How you doin’?”

Hugo shook his hand. “Good to see you, Antonio. Packed house tonight.”

“We manage. We manage,” he said before turning his attention to Alice. “I saw you walk in with a pretty girl, but I didn’t think she’d be this stunning up close. Antonio Moretti. A pleasure to meet you.” He extended out his hand toward her.

She shook his hand. “Alice Primrose. A pleasure as well. Hugo here told me that this was the best Italian restaurant in the state.”

“The world,” Antonio replied. “The world. Don’t forget, they know about our meatballs back in Italy.”

Alice gave Hugo a discerning glance. She jokingly scolded him, “You didn’t tell me this is world famous.”

“Must have slipped my mind,” he replied with a deadpan expression.

“Hugo here is the best guy I know, and I know a lot of people.” Antonio patted him on the back with his thick hand. “Don’t let him fool ya. Hugo Dodds can be quite the scoundrel, if you know what I mean.” He winked at Hugo and completed his familiar wingman routine.

“Oh, I know,” Alice answered back. “I found out firsthand how much of a scoundrel he can be.”

She winked at Hugo, and he blushed with embarrassment. Hugo rubbed his forehead as if he was invoking some magical ritual that would cause him to disappear from the room. It failed.

“What can I get you two to drink?”

“What’s tonight’s wine special?” Alice asked. “Hugo is something of a wine connoisseur, and I’m sure he’d tell you all the great things about it.”

Alice placed an elbow on the table. She rested her chin in her palm and smiled a mischievous grin toward Hugo. She winked. Hugo rolled his eyes, and she blew him a kiss.

“Oh, a connoisseur?” Antonio remarked. “How about the best bottle for our resident wine connoisseur?”

Hugo jolted from the heft of Antonio’s hand as he lightly smacked Hugo on the back. Antonio meandered away from the table.

“Connoisseur?Really?” Hugo playfully asked.

She winked at him. “A bit of pre-dinner flirting, my dear.”

“You know, you could get on the wine list here. Think about it. Locally brewed wine. Here at Antonio’s.”

Alice dropped her gaze. She unfurled the black napkin and set it on her lap. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“Why not? You do make some good wine. Even if you took the extra special bits out. Between this place and the Raskin’s Market, you’d make a fortune. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

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