Page 21 of Honor

“I’m not sure where to start,” she says while giggling nervously.

“Anywhere you want is fine with me.” I finish the last few drops of wine in my glass.

I regret not ordering a second glass, but unless Lottie is a wanted criminal, I’ll be enjoying two scoops of strawberry ice cream soon.

She tilts her head. “Are you familiar with Emmel’s?”

“The grocery store chain?” I ask with a little too much exuberance.

There’s an Emmel’s less than two miles from my folks’ house in Milford. It was our family’s destination every second Friday evening for most of my childhood. That’s when my dad would get paid, and the four of us would go to Emmel’s to buy groceries.

My sister and I were allowed to pick one treat each during those shopping sprees. Tracey would choose something different every time, but I always went with my favorite. A dozen chocolate chip cookies from Emmel’s in-store bakery was my pick.

I shared the cookies with my sister, but I’d still end up taking a few to school the following week for a snack at recess. Whenever I’m in Milford now, I drop by there and pick up a dozen or two to bring back home to Manhattan with me.

“Right.” Lottie nods. “I’m an Emmel.”

“You’re an Emmel?” I ask, confused if she means she’s an actual member of the Emmel family or if she considers herself an honorary member since she works there.

At the Emmel’s location close to my folks’ house, all the staff considered themselves part of the Emmel family since the company dumped a tiny sliver of their profits into a pot split by all the employees at the end of each calendar year. I heard from a friend who worked there part time that it didn’t amount to muchfinancially, but it did inspire a sense of family in every person who wore the trademark red Emmel vest to work every day.

Her gaze drops to the table. “I did, but I meant my mom is an Emmel, Evie. I’m part of the Emmel family.”

“That must have been amazing when you were growing up.” I can’t hide the surprise in my tone. “Did you get to take whatever you wanted off the shelves?”

She tosses her head back in laughter. “No. I tried that once, and my granddad made me write an essay about not being a thief.”

I smile. “Your granddad sounds like mine.”

“I loved him a lot,” she confesses. “He passed away a few months ago.”

“Oh, no.” I reach across the table to grab her hand. “I’m sorry, Lottie. I can’t imagine how hard that is.”

“It’s rough,” she acknowledges as a single tear slides down her cheek. “I miss him every day.”

I squeeze her hand. “If you ever want to talk about him, I’m a great listener. I love grandpa stories.”

A smile spreads over her lips. “I might take you up on that.”

“You better,” I reply.

“So, we should head over to this Cremza place, right?”

I tug my hand free of hers and push back from the table. “I hope you love ice cream as much as I do.”

“At least that much,” she says before she’s on her feet.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Evie

“Have you ever been to Paris?”Lottie asks as we step out of Cremza into midtown Manhattan’s busy evening foot traffic.

I sidestep around a woman rushing into the ice cream shop holding tightly to a man’s hand. The grin on his face says it all. He’s in love. Maybe it’s with ice cream, but my romantic heart has to wonder if he’s infatuated with her.

True love is my ultimate personal goal at some point in my life.

It’s not that I’m actively looking for it right now, but when it does happen, I’ll be over the moon happy.

---