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She supposed that was a true love story too.
“Stewart is a great man,” Laine said.
“He is the best,” her mother said. “I’m lucky enough to be loved by two wonderful men in my life. I know it and am very grateful for that. Sometimes we have to take our wins in life and I decided that is it for me.”
“I’m humbled by my parents,” she said. “I just hope I can measure up to both of you.”
Her mother hugged her. “We are both so proud of you. And your young man seems like the perfect fit. I’m sure your father will let you know his thoughts once you are back home. But I can tell you now, don’t base your relationship on ours. That’s not healthy for anyone.”
She didn’t think she was doing that but would try to make a point not to now. Her mother was speaking the truth.
“Dad will tell me,” she said. “Let’s go back in and bring the dessert. Our ride will be here in less than two hours.”
Mario had outdone himself with tons of Italian dishes. Stuffed shells, meatballs, lasagna, homemade bread, antipasto and linguine with clam sauce.
“Dessert is ready,” Mario said when they came back into the house and walked through the kitchen.
“We’ll help you bring it in,” her mother said.
Mario had it all on a serving cart that would roll out and Mario would serve.
“Tiramisu,” she said.
“My favorite,” her mother said. “Mario, I’m going to have to diet for two weeks to get rid of everything I ate today.”
“You’ll be bringing home leftovers,” Mario said. “The same for Ms. Laine and her man. The pilot too.”
She laughed that Lincoln was being called that. “Lincoln will love it. Me too. Oh my God, is that lemon ricotta cake?”
“It is,” Mario said. “Your favorite. Then we’ve got cannoli and biscotti.”
She started to push the cart out with her mother and Mario following. “It’s time to put on the calories,” she said. “I might have to dance my way back to Amore Island after today.”
“Not near any walls,” Carson said.
Her father laughed. “You tell her. Or you just fix her up if she does it again.”
“One broken bone is enough,” she said. “But Carson would easily fix me up again.”
“Always,” he said, moving over and checking out the dessert. “What’s that?”
“That is Laine’s favorite,” Stewart said. “Caleb has it for special occasions. Looks like my biscotti are here, Madelyn’s tiramisu and Caleb’s cannoli.”
Why hadn’t it occurred to her before that her father had everyone’s favorites today, not just hers and her mother’s? Stewart loved clam sauce. She ate anything Italian. Her mother was a sucker for lasagna and her father could live off of Mario’s meatballs. She’d even commented once about Carson loving stuffed shells that his cousin made when they went to Duke’s one night.
“I’d eat it all,” Carson said. “If I had room in my stomach for it.”
She laughed. “A lot will be going home with us.”
“Even better,” Carson said, rubbing his hands together. “But I guess I’ll start with your favorite.”
“Laine loves anything lemon,” her father said.
“It’s the pucker factor.”
“I’ll remember that,” Carson said.
While dessert was being served, her mother asked, “Are you ready to start traveling?”
