6
An Odd Lunch Date
We’d been at the shop for about an hour when Jared texted me the address for lunch and, “I’ll take care of the valet parking. I hope you like seafood!”
“As if there’s anything else to eat up here,” I muttered. I knew that wasn’t a fair assessment of the New England dining scene, but that was all my parents had taken us out for.
We could never eat at Italian restaurants because we’d insult my grandmother, who, truth be told, fed us well enough. But there was always one night during the visit when we’d go to the beach for a clambake with some cousins and another when my grandfather would take us all out for seafood. My grandmother had a weakness for fried clams with bellies, the soft part, included.
Veronica smiled at me as she dusted, and I tried to put the clams un
