“I know. Doesn’t make it any easier though.” I almost said the next part but couldn’t, not even to Mason. Mae deserved the world. Had almost lived in France. And now I was offering her the life she’d always wanted to leave. Cedar Falls. Hitched to a bar owner. She respected her parents, clearly, but had never wanted to become them, and she’d made that clear.
Mason stood. “Don’t self-sabotage, whatever you do.”
With those parting words, he slapped me on the back and headed out, presumably to the inn.Don’t self-sabotage. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Finishing my coffee, I put the mug in the dishwasher and headed out, walking up the inn’s long drive and toward town. I’d miss being on the lake, but that wasn’t on the cards. At least not yet. I’d been smart with my money, made a few good investments, but the bar would set me back temporarily.
At the top of the hill, I watched as downtown Cedar Falls came to life. A father chased his young son through the grass toward the gazebo at the center of the square. On the four streets surrounding it, shops began to open. Tourists and locals alike wandered around with coffee cups, most from The Coffee Cabin.
The Big Easy, Jenkin’s Hardware, Lakeside Pharmacy… I knew every one of the owners, and their families too. Unlike Mae, I’d never really been bored here. Was there more to do in bigger towns? Was an occasional weekend in Rochester or Ithaca warranted? Sure.
But this was enough for me.
Was it enough for Mae, too?
“Lost, son?”
I turned to find Emilio Russo, owner of a wine shop in town. He was straight off the boat from Italy, his accent still thick, even after all these years. His crazy white hair reminded me of Albert Einstein, a fact he found funny when I’d told him that.
I shook his hand.
“Just taking it all in,” I admitted.
Emilio stood with me, staring into the town square.
“Do you ever miss home?” I asked.
“This is home for me,” he sighed. “More than twenty years in Cedar Falls now.”
“Of all the places in the world, why here?”
Emilio probably thought I’d been smokin’ a little something. He didn’t laugh though.
“It reminded me of home, but with more opportunities. There might be fewer men playing chess and smoking cigars in the piazza, but there are similarities too. Everything I need is right here.”
“It’s enough for me too,” I admitted. “But there’s a woman?—”
“Always is,” he said with a smile.
“I just don’t know if it’s enough for her too.”
He was quiet for a moment, waving to Maggie LeBlanc across the square.
“Why here?” he repeated my question. “My wife and I lived in Brooklyn when we first came over.”
“You did? I didn’t know that.”
“Sì, sì,” he said, slipping into Italian. “Worked in an Italian restaurant and met a couple from Cedar Falls. Visited it and liked it right away. It was different, that’s for sure. But I liked the version of myself I was while I was here. My wife did too. And I realized… peace is not the same as boredom.” He turned to me, his old eyes sharper than I expected. “You can’t hold someone here with love alone. They must want this life too. Not the picture-perfect version. The real thing. Leaky roofs. Slow mornings. The same faces, every damn day. If she doesn’t see beauty in that, she’ll always be looking elsewhere.”
Something heavy settled in my chest.
“Capisci?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
Emilio patted my shoulder. “Bene.”
And with that, he shuffled off toward the wine shop, leaving me staring after him, the hum of town life pressing in like a wave I hadn’t seen coming.
