I shut off the engine and turned toward the backseat. “All right,” I said. “Today is a memory tour.”
That earned me a round of confused blinking.
CJ frowned. “That sounds fake.”
“It’s not fake.”
“Are we ghost hunting?” Billie squealed, wiggling in her seat.
“No.”
“Maybe just a little?”
“Still no.”
“What’s a memory tour?” Bianca asked.
I looked out the windshield toward downtown. “It’s…” I hesitated, trying to explain something I hadn’t fully figured out myself. “We’re going places your mom loved. Places that mattered to her. The botanical garden was the first stop.”
The car went quiet. Then Billie asked, very seriously, “Will there be snacks?”
Winnie snorted softly.
“Yes,” I said. “There will absolutely be food on this tour.”
That restored morale.
Our first stop sat three blocks away on the corner of an old brick street lined with flower baskets and antique lamps. Marino’s Italian Café. The sign hadn’t changed in over twenty years. Neither had the owner.
The bell above the restaurant door chimed as we stepped inside, the scent of warm bread and garlic wrapping around us.
Billie moaned theatrically. “I can smell butter.”
An older hostess looked up from behind the stand, her whole face changing when she saw me. “Oh my goodness. Conrad Lawrence.”
I smiled despite myself. “Hi, Teresa.”
“And these must be the babies.” She pressed both hands dramatically to her chest. “Last time I saw them, they were all sticky and screaming.”
“We’re still sticky,” Billie assured her.
Teresa laughed, then her eyes moved toward Winnie beside me. Something curious flickered there. I suddenly became aware of how domestic we looked standing together with the children around us.
Teresa seated us near the windows in Jade’s favorite booth without me even asking. The second we slid in, CJ pointed atthe dessert case near the counter. “Mom used to bribe me with cannolis.”
Bianca rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t bribery. She rewarded good behavior.”
I found myself studying Winnie instead of the menu as she smoothed the napkin out on her lap.
“She always corrected grammar here,” Bianca said suddenly.
I chuckled at the memory. “Oh yes, she absolutely did.”
Teresa overheard while passing by and barked out a laugh.
“She once sent back a specials board because they spelled fettuccine wrong,” I said.
Bianca looked deeply pleased. “That’s a reasonable reaction to a misspelled word.”
