There was a café here. New and wheatgrassy from the looks of it. Gloria had never been there before. But there were a lot of places she’d never been before.

Aldo held the door for her. “Quick pit stop,” he promised.

Gloria stepped inside and clasped her hands in front of her while Aldo bulldozed his way to the cashier. “To go for Moretta,” he called out.

The older woman behind the register patted her silver bun. “As if I didn’t know who you were,” she purred under huge red Sally Jesse Raphael glasses. “Your man friend here comes in for lunch three times a week, honey,” she told Gloria.

Her man friend? Adorable.

Gloria pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Sally Jesse hefted a huge paper bag with handles over the counter. “Threw in a few of those gluten-free Danishes you’re so fond of,” she said in a stage whisper.

“Estelle, I’m in love with you,” Aldo professed, doling out cash.

Sally Jesse Estelle sighed dramatically. “That’s what you tell all the seventy-somethings. Enjoy your date,” she said to Gloria, wriggling her painted eyebrows.

He put his hand at the small of Gloria’s back and led the way back outside and to his truck. She breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t spontaneously burst into tears of self-loathing and hopelessness at his touch.

“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you. I got a few sandwiches and soups that you can choose from.”

Thoughtful, not pushy, she decided.

“That’s great. Thanks,” she said.

Aldo popped the bag into the back seat of his pickup. “Do you have enough time for a picnic at the lake?”

Jobless, homeless, prospectless she had all the time in the world.

“I do if you do,” she said.

“You just made my day.” He skirted the truck and opened the passenger door for her.

A five-minute drive later, Aldo pulled into the recreational area parking lot at the lake. He led the way down to the lakefront and, ignoring the picnic tables, steered her toward a small copse of trees. He unfurled the lightweight blanket under his arm and gestured for her to sit.

Gloria was glad she hadn’t gone for a skirt or sundress. The red capris—another gift from her mother, whose horror at her pathetic wardrobe was justified—were just right for picnicking. Aldo plopped down next to her. Energy in every movement.

She liked being around him, liked the level of enthusiasm he had for everything. It was like being close to that spring sun. Energizing.

He unpacked the bag. A huge salad with grilled chicken for Aldo “My Body is a Temple” Moretta. Two sandwiches, a cup of split pea soup, and a small Caesar salad for Gloria to have her way with. The Danishes, a cherry and a cheese, looked delectable.