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Raquel Wells sat in Madison Park, counting an extra blessing that her favorite bench was open. It sat at the edge of the park, under the shade of a tall maple tree and faced Lake Washington. As she opened the paper bag she looked out at the lake: twenty miles long and three wide, it had halted the eastward expansion of Seattle a century before. Most of the park was fronted by a sandy beach and a very popular swimming area. Her favorite stretch was perched above a rocky rip-rap and nestled under friendly maple trees close by the shore.
From here, downtown Seattle was a comforting four miles behind her and the broad lake masked any thoughts of Bellevue on the far shore. Here is where she did her best thinking. Here is where she ate the best chocolate she’d ever found.
Vic Bosco’s Ginger
