“What is this?”
“If you can’t go to Mama C’s, then Mama C’s will come to you.”
“Wow. Paul, I don’t even know what to say.”
“A simple grazie will suffice.” I pulled out one of the chairs in my best gentlemanly waiter impression. “Your seat, Ms. Kearney.”
She grinned widely and sat down. I took a seat on the other side of the table, brought up a playlist of famous Italian crooners, and put my phone on speaker.
“Everything smells so good.”
“It is all good,” I assured her as I poured us each a small glass of wine. I held mine up and said in toast, “Thank you, Allison, for all of your help. Salud!”
“Salud!” She lightly clinked her glass against mine and took a sip. “And you are very welcome. I’m glad I could be useful. You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble though.”
“I couldn’t let you leave town without trying Mama C’s.”
“Are you a spokesperson for the restaurant or something?”
“No, but I am biased. Full disclosure: my family owns it.”
“Oh. Mama C’s. The C is for Cerasino, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
I encouraged her to sample a little bit of everything. I didn’t tell her that my mother had made my personal favorites. Allison loved it all, just as I had known she would.
“You were right. Everything was fabulous. I understand now why Mama C’s is so popular. Did you work there when you were younger?”
“We all did.” I laughed. “It was a requirement. We’re still expected to help every Sunday when we get together for dinner.”
“Do you have a big family?”
“Big enough. Three brothers and two sisters. Countless aunts, uncles, and cousins. And my grandparents.”
“And you get together every week?”
“Every week,” I confirmed. “We all live in the area, so it’s not an issue.”
“That’s awesome.”
It really was. I sometimes took my family for granted. Not everyone was as fortunate, as the wistful look on Allison’s face reminded me.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you choose to become a paralegal? Why not go to law school? You’ve obviously got the smarts for it.”
She took several long moments before she answered. “That was the dream, but I had Miriam to take care of,” she said finally. “I had to work. I couldn’t afford college, let alone law school. So, I did the next best thing. I worked during the day and took online courses at night until I earned an associate’s degree in paralegal studies.”
“What about now?” I asked. “Do you still want to be a lawyer?”
“I don’t know. I thought I did. But then I think about going back to college with all those young kids fresh out of high school. About the immense debt I’d accrue over four years of undergrad and three of law school, probably longer since I’d have to continue working and I wouldn’t be able to attend full-time. I’d be pushing forty by the time I finally finished, and chances are, no one would want to hire me.”
“I’d hire you,” I said.
She smiled. “You are a good man, Paul Cerasino. I wish there were more like you. Thank you so much. For everything.”
It felt like she was saying good-bye because she was. I didn’t want her to leave, but what could I do?
“You’re very welcome.”
She began cleaning up, and I could delay the inevitable no longer. I wrote out a check and handed it to her. Her eyes widened when she saw the amount.
“This is way too much.”
“I consider it a bargain. I meant what I said. If you change your mind, you call me, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, but in my heart, I knew she wouldn’t.
Chapter Thirteen: Allison
I left the Wilkins building, feeling conflicted. Sad that my time here was done and pleased that Paul had gone out of his way to do something so nice for me. Honestly, I thought it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.
I’d only known him a short time, but I was going to miss him.
Miriam was at the apartment when I returned, and she didn’t look happy. “Where have you been? Your note said you were leaving today.”
“I am.” I waved toward my suitcase, packed and ready to go. “And I was helping Paul.”
“Why?”
“Because he’d asked.”
“Really? He’d asked? Or you decided he needed your help?”
Her attitude and snarky tone raised my hackles.
“What is your problem?”
“What is my problem? Uh, you decided to leave a day earlier without even talking to me about it, then spent the whole day with someone else.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
We hadn’t spent much time together. I was an early bird; she was a night owl. During those hours where we were both awake and functional, she tended to do her thing and left me to occupy myself. To be clear, I was quite happy with how I’d spent my last few days in Cecilton—or more specifically, with whom I’d spent them. Which was another reason why I’d decided to leave sooner rather than later. I was falling for Paul Cerasino.
“It means, I didn’t think you’d mind,” I repeated. “You spend most of your time at the bookstore anyway.”
“I write better there.”
“I know.” I did. I didn’t understand it. I thought writing was something you could do anywhere. But, as she was the aspiring author, I pressed my lips together and said nothing more.
Her eyes narrowed. “I know that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that says you’re biting your tongue. Gah! I should have known you wouldn’t take my writing career seriously.”
“Stop being overly dramatic. I do take your writing career seriously. I’m just saying, you could be a little flexible, you know? I took the whole week off to come down here and spend time with you.”
“No one asked you to!” she yelled.
I reeled back, her words like a slap to the face. I knew she was just lashing out. That I
