Part 35 (1/2)

Inside, the decor is exactly what I'd imagined-playing-card patterns, whimsical clocks and tables, plus closets filled with birthday party costumes and supplies. A huge, red ribbon loops around the trailer, ending in a bow fastened to the front door.

”I can't believe it.” Allie comes up beside me, looking pretty and summer-like in a green flowered dress that complements her red hair. ”It's incredible, Liv.”

I nod toward Dean, who is approaching from the direction of the stage with Archer and Nicholas. ”He's the one who did it all.”

I feel her looking at me.

”Do you remember when we were opening the cafe and you weren't into using any of your and Dean's money?” she asks.

”I remember.”

”So what changed your mind about letting him buy the trailer?” Allie asks.

I learned a lesson, I think as I watch Dean coming toward me. Professor West is a d.a.m.ned good teacher. And though I often have to fumble my way through things, I have always been an excellent student.

Dean's gaze meets mine, a smile curving his beautiful mouth. A pleasurable s.h.i.+ver runs down my spine.

”I learned that sometimes it's okay to take help when it's offered,” I tell Allie. ”And to graciously accept a gift someone has been trying hard to give you.”

Aside from that, I also wanted to leave Allie and Wonderland with a parting gift that will not only compensate for my past mistakes, but that will set the cafe on an exciting new path. The Traveling Wonderland Cafe proved to be the solution to several problems all at once. I just needed to get out of my own way in order to see that.

”You both ready?” Archer crouches beside the microphone and speaker next to the trailer and fiddles with the controls. ”Slice of Pie is on their last song of this set, and they're sending everyone back over here as soon as they're done.”

The entire staff of the Wonderland Cafe, all wearing white jackets and purple ap.r.o.ns, gather around the front of the trailer. Parents and children drift over from the stage, and soon a large crowd is standing near the tables.

Archer hands me the microphone. I pa.s.s it to Allie. She blinks at me.

”You're in charge now,” I remind her.

”Not for good,” she says. ”You'll always be my partner, whether you're living in Mirror Lake or Timbuktu.”

”Aw.” I squeeze her arm. ”Come on, then. We'll do this together.”

We step in front of the ribbon encircling the trailer and face the crowd.

”Ladies and gentlemen,” Allie says into the mic. ”Boys and girls, thank you so much for coming to celebrate the opening of the brand-new Traveling Wonderland Cafe. With this venture, we plan to deliver peppermint twist cupcakes, lemon parfaits, and plenty of birthday parties all around Mirror Lake and beyond. With my partner Liv”-she pauses to clear her throat-”leaving on new adventures, we will continue to run the cafe with the much-needed help of numerous other people.”

She introduces the staff members who will be taking on new duties to help her run the cafe, including Brent, who is stepping up his responsibilities in my absence.

I glance at Dean. He's standing to the side with Nicholas perched on his shoulders, his elbows resting on Dean's head.

”And now,” Allie says, reaching for a pair of silver scissors. ”Welcome to the opening of the Traveling Wonderland Cafe!”

She moves aside so I can put my hand over hers. Together, we cut the red ribbon. The crowd erupts into applause, music bursts from the speakers, and three employees bring out huge sheet cakes and tiered trays of cupcakes.

A flurry of activity follows as we slice cake for everyone and hand out cupcakes to the children. I see Archer standing beside the trailer, his hands in his pockets and his gaze scanning the crowd. I bring him a slice of cake and a fork.

”Cake?” I ask, holding it out.

”No, thanks,” he replies. ”I'm waiting for Kelsey.”

Though I don't see why that precludes him from eating cake, I shrug and turn away. Dean is standing near the tables, and he and Archer exchange fleeting grins that seem to carry some brotherly secret.

It's about time, I think.

I hand the cake to Dean, who takes it without hesitation. The thought of leaving Archer and Kelsey causes a sad pang in my chest, especially if Dean and Archer are finally starting to find their way to being brothers again. But Kelsey and Archer have a.s.sured me they'll come to visit us in Paris and we'll Skype regularly. Also, as Kelsey reminded me, ”You'll come back.”

And yes, we will come back. For visits, certainly, and someday to live again. We don't yet know when-it could be years, depending on the job and the contracts-but the promise is like a little star.

I look at the expanse of Wizard's Park, the silver trailer gleaming in the sun, the families gathered around laughing, eating, playing on the playground. In the distance, the railroad depot sits behind a row of trees, waiting for Archer and Mr. Jenkins to bring it back to life.

Allie walks around the tables, pouring fresh lemonade into paper cups, her face bright and happy. Florence and Mr. Jenkins are canoodling at one of the tables, eating cupcakes and drinking tea.

Kelsey comes toward Archer from the parking lot. He holds out his arms, and she walks right into them, her body curving against his like a comma fitting into place.

Nearby, Nicholas lets out a yelp as he runs after a Frisbee Dean has tossed. The red saucer spins in a perfect arc before Nicholas makes a flying leap and manages to catch it in his little fists. His face breaks into a huge grin. Dean gives a cheer and hauls Nicholas onto his shoulders, running around with him in a victory loop. Nicholas laughs and laughs.

I smile, my heart filling with a riotous combination of love and joy. I've learned in life that if you're going to run, you should always run toward something. On the flip side, you should also have a place to run back to, if needed.

Mirror Lake will still be here if or when we return. But beyond that, a two-year-old boy and a certain medieval history professor are my safe haven, the place to which I will always return, my home anywhere in the world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

OLIVIA.

Three months later The facade of the Louvre spreads like wings around a central plaza leading to the vast expanse of the Tuileries gardens. Hungry birds, unafraid, flutter around seeking bread sc.r.a.ps dropped by people who purchased baguette sandwiches from the snack bars.

Dozens of Parisians and tourists wander around the wide pathways, some lounging in the sun and others walking toward one of the museums. Nicholas runs ahead of me, making a beeline for the large fountain that sits like a lake s.h.i.+mmering in the sun.

I catch up with him, huffing and puffing a little thanks to the extra ten pounds I've gained, and pull a small box out of the tote bag I carry with me everywhere.

”Les bateaux,” Nicholas announces in-to my ears, flawless-French before taking two walnut-sh.e.l.l boats out of the box.

Nicholas's boat is bright red with a little blue flag attached to a toothpick and a tiny stick-figure sailor. My boat is glittery pink with a striped sail and a heart painted on the inside of the sh.e.l.l.

”Here's the starting line,” I say, pointing to the edge of the fountain.

We set our boats in the water and together chant in commanding voices, ” vos marques.”