“It was hard at first, going to construction sites with Harrison in his car seat. I started making pies as soon as I got back from selling them at lunch. I worked until about midnight, then grabbed a few hours of sleep before getting up and working more. That was all I did—I was either taking care of him or making pies. Once my bills were paid, I used the extra money to buy a couple more ovens and a second refrigerator.” He smiled. “I’m sure I violated a lot of health codes, but I never got caught.”

“Ah, the heart of a bad boy never changes.”

“In some respects. It took me six months to save up enough to buy a food truck, and that helped a lot. I set up different locations where I would be every week and started developing a following.”

“One truck became three and so on?” she asked.

“Pretty much. Within two years I had a fleet of food trucks in the Austin metro area. Five years later, I’d expanded to the big cities in Texas and was moving into California. I’d also opened a couple of stores, and they were successful. Today I have two hundred trucks and ten stores, and we’re in fifteen cities.”

Jeez, that was impressive. She’d known he was successful, but hearing it from him was different.

“Including Wishing Tree,” she said with a smile.

“It’s my favorite store. It means I get to be around whenever Harrison needs me.”

She glanced at the wall of pictures. “You should have its picture up there.” She frowned, then leaned forward to study the photographs. “Is that bottom one of the old hardware store?”

“Yes.”

She looked from it to him. “I’m surprised. You always had a complicated relationship with the store.”

He’d been twelve when he’d first started working there, trying to help out when his dad was too drunk to care about things like opening or stocking inventory. As Toby had gotten older, he’d taken on more responsibility. Once they’d started dating, they’d spent hours together in the store. She’d learned all about tools and how to repair things like a faucet or a light fixture.

“It wasn’t the store,” he said. “It was my dad.” He exhaled. “Judy had that picture framed for me when I was putting up photographs. I didn’t want to tell her I’d rather not stare at it every time I came in here.”

Involuntarily, she reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry. That’s hard for you.”

“It’s a picture. I can handle it.”

She dropped her hand back to her lap. “Your dad sold the store right about the time you left, didn’t he?”