of people’s monumental days. I know it’s just cake and it’s going to be eaten and disappear. I know as soon as they cut into it, all the decorating and everything gets ruined anyway but… it still matters. To me.”
“The cake can still make the day memorable,” he said. “It’s a part of the whole thing.”
She nodded. “I’m glad you don’t think that’s silly.”
“How can you caring so much about someone else’s important days be silly?”
And Josie felt herself fall a little in love.
Oops. Crap.
The waiter came over to ask if they wanted more wine. Grant had him fill both of their glasses again, and then with his eyes on Josie, said, “And a piece of the triple chocolate fudge mousse cake.”
Josie felt her eyes widen. That sounded sinful. And amazing.
The waiter moved off and Grant said, “It’s not the same as someone making a cake specifically for us for today, but I think it’s only right we have some cake to commemorate the day.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
“So what do you like so much about the city?” he asked, tipping his head toward the window.
She thought about his question. “It’s pretty,” she finally said. “The lights and everything. There’s an energy here that’s so different from what I know. There are so many things here—things to do and see, opportunities. Museums, shows, libraries. I’m sure there a hundred classes to take. I could learn to cook Indian food or make real Italian pasta from scratch. I could have someone teach me to make authentic baklava.” She nodded. “It’s all the different cultures and things to learn and experience.”
He nodded. “But you could always come here and spend a few days and do those things and then go home.”
“Yes. I guess that’s true.”
“You’d never want to actually live here,” he said. He didn’t phrase it as a question.
Josie didn’t have to think about that very hard. “No.” She shook her head. “I think, for me, that’s the intrigue of travel. Seeing things, experiencing things that are different from what I know. But then taking it back with me and making it a part of my ‘normal.’”
“Tell me more about that,” Grant said.
His posture still suggested that he was relaxed and casual, but he was watching her intently. He seemed completely focused on her.
Grant Lorre’s full attention and focus was an intense thing.
Josie swallowed and sat back in her chair too. But she couldn’t help playing with the napkin in her lap. “I would love to see the mountains, for instance,” she started. “But I think when I got home, the mountains would make me notice the plains in Iowa more closely. I would love to eat authentic Mediterranean food prepared in Greece. But I think when I got home, I would pay more attention to how great the bacon cheeseburgers were. I think seeing the country, even the world, would be amazing and would make me appreciate other places, but I think it would also make me appreciate the things I have right at home more too.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
“What do you like about traveling?” she asked. “You do a lot of it, right?”
“I do. But it’s more of a necessity. Not that I don’t enjoy it,” he added. “I’ve seen amazing places, eaten amazing food. But I don’t have that contrast that you do. The places I go are very much like where I live.”
“Greece and Rome and Paris and Honolulu and San Francisco are not like Chicago,” Josie protested. “Or like one another.”
“They’re cities where I stay in a hotel that’s a lot like the apartment I live in and eat food prepared by professional chefs and ride in car driven by other people,” he said. “It’s not like Appleby.”
For some reason, that made Josie hold her breath.
“Appleby is the kind of place that makes you appreciate all of that,” he went on thoughtfully. “Professionally prepared gourmet meals with things like truffle sauce and lobster tail seem fancier because you also know the comfort and goodness of homemade pork chops and cheesy potatoes.”
Those cheesy potatoes were going to haunt her forever, Josie decided. But she liked what he was saying.
“The lights of the city seem brighter and more sparkly next to the old-fashioned streetlights and relative dark of the little town,” he said. “The museums seem more majestic because you can compare them to the little house at the end of Main Street Appleby where they have photographs and items collected from when the town was founded.”
“The