Chapter 9 - The Proposal in the BakeryCarmine waited a year.
Palmira considered this criminal.
“Marry her.”
“Grandmother.”
“You love her.”
“Yes.”
“She loves you.”
“Yes.”
“You're thirty-five.”
“Tragic.”
Palmira slapped his arm.
Nell refused to help.
“I agree with Palmira.”
Carmine stared.
“Then should I propose tonight?”
Nell nearly dropped a tray.
“No!”
He laughed.
Good.
She wasn't ready for ambush.
When he finally proposed, it was at Fontaine Bakery at four in the morning.
Nell was baking.
Hair messy.
Flour on her face.
No makeup.
Carmine entered carrying coffee.
“You're early.”
“Couldn't sleep.”
“Again?”
“Yes.”
She looked concerned.
Then he placed a small wooden box on the counter.
Nell froze.
“Carmine.”
“Before you panic, I'm not asking you to give up anything.”
“Excellent opening.”
“I mean it.”
He opened the box.
Ring.
Simple.
Old.
Palmira’s mother’s.
Carmine said:
“You were invisible in my house because people around me had learned that anyone without power did not deserve attention.”
Nell’s eyes filled.
“I was one of those people.”
“You noticed the pie.”
“Yes.”
“Eventually.”
“Painfully eventually.”
She laughed through tears.
Carmine continued.
“You taught me that noticing someone after they become useful isn't the same as respecting them.”
He swallowed.
“I don't want a wife who disappears into my life.”
Nell stared.
“I want Nell Fontaine. Bakery owner. Terrible employer.”
“Excuse me?”
“Cruel to mixers.”
“Carmine.”
“Stubborn.”
“Dangerous ground.”
“Beautiful.”
Her face softened.
“And entirely free to say no.”
He held out the ring.
“Will you marry me?”
Nell looked at him for a long time.
Then:
“Yes.”
Carmine closed his eyes.
She laughed.
“You look surprised.”
“I had prepared emotionally for negotiation.”
“Wrong business.”
She kissed him.
Then pulled away.
“One condition.”
“Of course.”
“No giant mafia wedding.”
“Fine.”
“No armed men inside the ceremony.”
“Define inside.”
“Carmine.”
“Fine.”
“And I make dessert.”
He smiled.
May you like
“Pecan pie?”
“Obviously.”
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