Page 13 of Highlands Homecoming

The waiter handed them wine lists and a menu and poured still water from a cobalt blue bottle. With the soft glow of the candlelight and the nostalgic Italian music, Melissa finally began to relax.

“You know, is this our first actual date?” said Melissa.

“I think so,” said Colin.

“I mean, we’ve been to lots of places in groups. And we’ve been to urgent care together,” said Melissa.

“I cherish those memories of us hobbling around on ice,” said Colin. “But this …”

“This is nice,” said Melissa.

They ordered chianti and fried calamari to start.

The waiter poured the wine at their table and soon returned with a basket of amazing crusty bread accompanied by dark green olive oil and a tapenade. As their hands brushed while reaching for the bread Melissa felt a tingling surge of electricity race through her and she couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked, his cheeks still rosy from the cold and his blue eyes twinkling as he raised his glass of wine.

“Cheers!” said Colin.

“Sláinte!”said Melissa. “Wow, this looks amazing. Homemade Italian bread, straight out of the oven.”

As the waiter brought various courses—salad, pasta, cheese, and finally espresso—they laughed and talked and almost forgot that they lived on opposite sides of the ocean.

“We should do this more often,” said Colin, before realization sank in. They lived thousands of miles apart now.

“We should,” said Melissa. Colin noticed that her face was filled with doubt.

“We will, then,” said Colin. “We’ll make it all work out.”

As he helped her on with her coat, and they stepped out into the magical snowy sidewalks of the old North End, optimism swept over Melissa again. “They have frequent-flyer credit cards. Business trips. Family visits and holidays. Facetime. We’ve got this.”

As they strolled down Hanover Street, Colin and Melissa noticed the line at Mike's Pastry was unusually short.

"Do we dare?" Colin asked with a playful glint in his eye.

"Absolutely," Melissa replied without hesitation.

The bright fluorescent lights inside were a stark contrast to the street, but Melissa's discomfort quickly faded as she admired the array of pastries in the display case.

They had everything from birthday cakes, black-and-white cookies, brownies, lemon bars, eclairs, Boston Cream Pies, lobster tails—puffed pastry filled with cream. But the star of the menu was their cannoli. Colin and Melissa studied the menu: limoncello, pistachio, chocolate, hazelnut, chocolate chip, plain, strawberry, peanut butter, chocolate covered, Florentine, chocolate cream, amaretto … The list was endless.

“I have no idea,” said Colin. “You decide.”

Melissa stepped up to the counter. “We’d like a dozen cannoli. Cannolis?”

The clerk nodded.

“Two Florentines, two chocolate covered, one chocolate cream, two plain, one hazelnut … How many is that, Colin?”

“Eight,” said Colin.

“What else?” asked Melissa.

“And two limoncello, a chocolate mint, um … peanut butter? Actually, another hazelnut.”

The clerk gathered them all. “Powdered sugar?”

Colin looked to Melissa, who noddedyes.

“Yes.”