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“Enough about me and my problems. Do you have children, Noah?”
“No.” He closed off then as sure as a submarine hatch. He picked up his beer, shifted in his seat, and watched the action on the bowling lanes. For reasons she couldn’t pinpoint, Willow wanted to cry again.
They sat without speaking for a few minutes, and the arrival of his pizza was a welcome distraction. “Try a piece,” he suggested.
Willow didn’t need a slice of pizza, but it did smell delicious, and eating would help get past this awkwardness, she hoped. “A little one, thanks.”
“Think Drew, Emma, and your aunt are ready for a pizza break?” Noah asked.
Willow shook her head. “Aunt Helen doesn’t eat pizza.”
“She’s a healthy eater?”
“Not necessarily.” Willow smiled crookedly. “You should see her pack away chicken-fried steak. No, her anti-pizza stance is somehow tied with an argument, bet, or combination of the two she had with one of her husbands. She swore she wouldn’t eat another piece of pizza the rest of her life, and as far as I know, she’s held to it.”
“Wow. That’s some dedication.”
“That’s my auntie. As far as the kids go, I can tell they’re having too much fun to want to stop.”
They observed the children for the next few minutes while they ate. Both kids appeared fascinated by the ball return. She grew concerned when Drew kept sticking his head in front of the return to peer into the void in anticipation of the ball’s arrival. “He’s going to get his head thunked if he keeps that up,” she fretted. “I’ve seen my aunt warn him twice.”
“He’ll learn.”
“The hard way,” she grumbled.
“Then he won’t forget.”
Willow sighed. “True. It’s just difficult to watch and not jump in. But he needs to learn to listen, and better he gets hit by a bowling ball than a car.”
Noah lifted his beer in a toast. “Famous words of mothers everywhere.”
At that very moment, a ball popped out from the return on the lane where the children were bowling and conked Drew on the nose. Both Willow and Noah winced as they watched the boy let out a squeal and hold his nose. Then Willow very determinedly turned away from the windowand focused solely on Noah. “You’re right. The pizza is fabulous. I’ve wondered what to provide for the tear-down crew after the wedding. This will be perfect. Thank you for solving my problem.”
“You’re welcome. So, how is it that you’re planning your brother’s wedding instead of him and his bride?”
She shared the story of the New Year’s Eve destruction of their wedding venue and Willow’s reasons behind the move to Colorado. He asked her about her work as an event planner, and she told a couple of her more entertaining stories. She’d just launched into her favorite tale about a Nashville politician, a proposal, and a pickle factory when Drew and Emma rushed into the tavern, Aunt Helen on their heels.
“Mama. Mama. Mama.” Drew’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Guess what. Aunt Helen wants to have a sleepover at her house! Can we go, Mama? Please? Pretty please?”
Emma clapped her hands together. “I want to go, too, Mama. Say yes, please? Fast, because we have to be there for the cuckoo serenade, and then we’ll go right to bed.”
“Hold on. Hold on a minute.”
Willow glanced at her watch. It was twenty minutes to nine, already an hour past their bedtime. School wasn’t a problem because she’d worked ahead with Drew in anticipation of the wedding week, but they’d never stayed over at Aunt Helen’s before. She’d never invited them. “Auntie?”
Helen waved her hand dismissively. “It will be fun for us. Plus, it’ll give you a chance to have a little”—her gaze darted briefly toward Noah—“alone time before the wedding crunch begins.”
“But Maggie and Tom arrived today, and they’re planning to spend tomorrow with Drew and Emma.”
“Not a problem. I’m working a shift at the reception deskat the lodge tomorrow morning. I’ll bring Drew and Emma home before eight. In fact, we’ll stop at the bakery and bring breakfast for everyone. How about that? As I recall, the Eldridges aren’t super-early birds.”
Emma clasped her hands prayerfully and begged. “Please, Mama? Please? Auntie Helen has extra toothbrushes we can use.”
“And we’re already in our pj’s,” Drew pointed out.
“Hurry and decide, Mama. The serenade!”
Willow laughed. “Okay. Okay. Go. Go.”
