Page 9 of Three Days of Holiday

“Your boss?” Was a shift manager scarier than her? Who had Mrs. Crabby Cakes shaking in fear?

“No, the owner. The boss, boss,” she whispered, her eyes growing wider with each use of the word boss.

Right that second, as if she’d summoned him from the depths of Pelican Bay, Frankie Zanetti held open the door to the kitchen and walked out into the large dining space. I smiled when I saw him and almost raised a hand to wave, but our waitress slipped in front of me, her nerves ratcheting even higher.

Frankie stopped between the diner counter and our table, looking at the woman with an annoyed expression on his face. She made a horrible noise and then bowed like she’d met the queen.

Will and I shared a glance and then went back to watching the exchange unfold.

“I told you that’s not necessary.” Frankie rubbed his head as if he had a headache coming on and then took a step toward the exit. “Have a wonderful evening, Holly, and your friend as well.”

I did my best not to let the wink he ended the sentence with turn my face a bright red while Will and I both watched as he walked out of the diner.

“You know him?” Will asked at me accusingly.

I shoved in the first bite of my banana split. “Oh sure. Everyone knows Frankie.”

“He looks like he belongs in New York with the mob.” Will copied my movements by shoving the spoon into his banana split and taking his first bite.

I was already letting ice cream melt over my tongue, the vanilla perfect. The next time I saw Frankie, I wasdefinitely telling him good job on the ice cream. “So what’s the competition going to be like?” I asked, ignoring his comment on Frankie and the mob.

Some things you just didn’t question.

Winning at state for the taste-off was all I thought about for the rest of the day. The blood in my veins was jumping in excitement. We’d made it to the finals. The state finals. And I’d do everything in my power to make sure we won.

“That’s such a boring subject, but you’re at the top of the competition now. You have three full days and I’m sure you’ll do a great job. There has to be a better topic to discuss.”

“Okay, what’s your job?”

Will’s face fell into something like horror mixed with panic at the same time. “Ugh, that’s even worse.”

The way he said it was off-putting, as if the mere thought of his job was so distasteful, he couldn’t stand it. He had to be a stockbroker or something.

Our conversation changed to life on the farm and living in Maine while we finished our desserts. The time passed quickly, and before long I leaned against the table laughing at Will’s impersonation of the local weather guy.

“It’s true. Did you see how he kept petting his sash?” he asked.

I laughed again. “Yes, it was crazy.”

Will’s elbows rested on the table and he chuckled, meeting my gaze. “They take the judge job seriously. That is not a man to be messed with, especially over cider.”

The light flickered overhead, and I lifted my attention away from the curve of his mouth to the lights before they flashed off completely.

4

WILL

“Hey!” our waitress hollered, her voice shattering the mood. “We still got some lovebirds out here.”

The lights flickered on, and I leaned back in the booth, realizing how close Holly and I had drawn to one another. Given a few more seconds, I’d have kissed her in the short distance across the table.

Our earlier waitress approached us cautiously. “I hate to do this to you, especially since you and Frankie are acquainted, but we’re closing for the night. I got to get home and make Bill’s microwave dinner.”

I flicked my wrist to read the time. “Sorry about that. We’ll get out of your hair.”

11:57 p.m.

Holly and I spent almost four hours eating desserts and talking about our families, dreams, and general life.

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