It’s so luscious we’re giggling as if intoxicated. Visions of using it in a mousse cake with a pistachio crème insert accompanied by a glass of wine swirl in my head. “Hmm…Moscato is perfect with the pear and mascarpone, but…given the pistachio this needs a strong red.” “Yeah,” Cindy agrees with idolatry for the mousse. Her eyes flair. “Like a good Cab.” My head tilts back as my knees dip with an excited bounce, relishing the thought. “Oh, totally!” Jenny softly interrupts, suspending my taste buds from their happy dance. “Lily, Donovan’s here. He needs to see you.” Her expression is pained to the point where my grin instantly crashes. “Why didn’t you send him back?” I ask. “He, um—he warned me that he needs to take you on a walk. I think something’s really wrong.” Chucking my spoon into the sink, I bolt to the front of the store where Donovan trudges with angst. Halting his tread he turns to me with a shrug of emptiness, thus selling out the source of his misery. Grabbing his arm I drag him through the kitchen, past the lockers, and out the back door.
