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I was in the middle of this extremely important aesthetic assessment when something moved in my peripheral vision, and I looked up, and there was Adam.

Coming toward me from down the street, James walking beside him in a mimicking stride. It was cute as hell. Adam was in his work clothes—dark pants, boots, that jacket he wore on jobsites. The afternoon light was doing him the same favors it was doing my sign—they both looked excellent.

He hadn't seen me yet. He was looking down at James, saying something, and James was nodding with great seriousness. Then he looked up.

The smile that crossed his face was the kind of smile that made a very strong case for four days of phone calls not being excessive at all.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi yourself." The bags were swinging from my wrists, and I had my purse halfway off my shoulder and I probably looked like a very disorganized pack mule, which was fine, he was still smiling.

James looked up at me and then at the bags. "What's in those?"

"Lunch."

His eyes went wide. "What kind of lunch?"

"The good kind."

"Dad." James turned to Adam with the wide eyes of significant discovery. "She has the good kind of lunch."

Adam reached past me and opened the door.

Of course he did.

I didn't say anything about it. I just walked through it.

Ernie and Leslie both looked up when we came in.

"Oh good, you're back," Leslie said, already moving toward me for the bags. Then she registered Adam and James and her entire expression recalibrated into something that was trying very hard not to be delighted. "And you brought company."

"I didn't actually bring—" I started.

"We ran into each other at the door," Adam said.

"Mm." Ernie was looking between us in a way that suggested he was doing substantial math. "That's lucky."

"James," I said, "this is Ernie and Leslie. They work here with me."

James looked at them each in turn. "Hello," he said. "She has the good kind of food."

Ernie snickered.

"So, I got the bacon cheeseburger for myself which I’ll save for later," I said, setting the bags on the counter. “Ernie, yours is the pineapple burger with onion rings⁠—"

“Onion rings?” James piped up.

“They’re the best onion rings in the world,” Ernie nodded.

“And then the Greek salad for Leslie⁠—"

"Oh." Leslie pressed her lips together. "About that." Her eyes darted to Ernie.

I looked up. “Yes?”

"We were talking while you were gone," Ernie said, not looking at me, very busy with a pressed wildflower frame. "We both decided we actually wanted to go to that new place over on Birch. The one that does the…”

"The soup," Leslie supplied.