A moment for you

When Allison Fletcher visits a lemonade stand, she discovers she’s in for a sweet surprise— and a chance at renewed love!

Lemonade! Twenty-five cents!” Tiny Noah was ready for business. His voice, powered by youthful exuberance, carried in the breeze, catching Allison’s attention.

Wallet in hand, she strolled across the street, anxious to be her second grade pupil’s first customer. Noah’s stand was solid, thanks to his father, and his mother’s handpainted sign was colorful.

“Morning, Ms. Fletcher,”

Noah greeted. Adorable in a paper soda jerk’s cap, he asked, “Lemonade?”

“I’d love some,” Allison said, fishing out a quarter. “I like your cap. I used to wear one of those in high school. Did you know I worked at Anatole’s Pizza Cave?”

Noah’s eyes popped. “Wow! Did you make pizza?”

Allison brushed off his question with a laugh. “I waited tables,” she told him.

Noah took the coin and handed Allison a Styrofoam cup filled to the brim. “It’s good,” he assured her, his bangs curled flat against his forehead. “I made it.”

Allison sipped. “So refreshing!” she said, delighted. “You did a wonderful job.”

Spotting a man walking in their direction, Noah blanched. “Ms. Fletcher?” he whispered anxiously.

“What’s wrong, Noah?”

A shade of crimson shadowing his freckled face, the boy pleaded, “I have to go to the bathroom. Will you watch my stand?”

Allison giggled inwardly at the sight of Noah, hopping uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Of course I will! Take your time.”

Noah yanked off his cap and handed it to her. “You’d better wear this so the customers know you work here.” Like a bolt, he charged toward his house. Allison cocked the cap atop her auburn hair, feeling as silly as she had 15 years ago when she wore one at the Pizza Cave. The last time she’d eaten there, not long ago, the servers still wore them. The approaching man ambled toward the stand. “I’ll take a lemonade!” His cheerful baritone was strikingly familiar. “And a slice of Anatole’s deep dish pizza with the works!” Allison, electrified, beheld his charming grin. “Nick Perdue?”

“His blueeyed gaze still had the ability to send a tingle up her spine”

“Allison Fletcher!” Nick was tall and fit, just as he was in high school, and his strong jaw still jutted confidently. His dark hair was shorter now, but his blue-eyed gaze maintained the ability to send a tingle up Allison’s spine. “It’s still Fletcher, right?”

“Nothing’s changed there,” she said, self-consciously adjusting the cap. “I’m filling in for the little boy who’s running the stand. He’s in my class at school. I live across the way and—” She was prattling. “He had to go to the bathroom.”

Nick smiled good-naturedly. “Must’ve been drinking the merchandise.”

As Allison chuckled, a gust of wind blew the cap off her head. Nick snatched it in midair, handing it to her. “Thanks,” she said. “Remember when we wore these?”

He nodded. “I remember Anatole throwing a fit if we didn’t!” Mimicking their old boss, he said with a snap, “You take off the cap when you leave—not before!”

Laughing at the memory, Allison could feel the veil of the past years slowly lifting. It was suddenly yesterday and they were back at Anatole’s together. “We couldn’t wait to be off duty so we could drive around or go to my house and study.”

Fond recall settling in, Nick said, “And to think, now you’re the one who dishes out homework.”

“It’s amazing being back home, teaching at our old school.” Then, with a sudden reckoning, she asked, “What about you, Nick? Are you living in town again?”

He tossed her a cheerful look. “Sure am. Dad’s looking to spend more time away from the business and he wanted me to take over.” Then, casting a glance downward, he confessed, “Dad told me where you live. My place isn’t far from here.

I walk this way a lot, thinking about knocking on your door.”

Allison frowned. “And why haven’t you?” she teasingly demanded.

He squared his shoulders and met her eye. “I didn’t know if you’d want to pick up where we left off.”

“We were friends,” she said softly. “Close friends who went their own ways and have both returned.”

Flushed with relief, Nick brightened. “In that case, would you go to Anatole’s with me one evening? For old time’s sake?”

“I’d love to!” she eagerly accepted. Then, prodded by hope, she added, “And it doesn’t have to be just for old time’s sake.”

Allison offered Nick lemonade, and their hoisted cups met, like old friends, in a toast to the future.