Page 30 of Exile and Embrace

“Yeah. I’m Ava. Just moved here yesterday with my fiancé.”

The words feel strange to say out loud, but I’m going to have to get used to them sooner or later.

“I’m Brooklyn. My aunt owns this place.” She grins and wanders to the counter. “I run it for her on the weekends. If you’re going to try one thing over anything else, I recommend the lemon and white chocolate scones.”

“One of those, then.” I follow her to the counter and pull out my phone. “And a large latte.”

She rounds the counter and punches in the order.

After tapping my phone against the debit machine, I step to the side and try to see the café through my father’s eyes.

It’s a small little place and almost empty. There is another mural of a family sharing a scone on one wall. The muted colors swirl together, making the building feel warm and cozy.

“Like the mural?” Brooklyn slides the latte across the counter with a scone on a plate.

“It’s stunning. The one outside is really good too.”

Brooklyn beams and waves the other barista over. “Carla, take care of the counter. I’m going to sit down with my new best friend who loves my murals.”

I laugh and take my breakfast over to an empty table. “You do amazing work.”

“Thank you. My aunt likes to get them changed every couple years. When I’m not here or painting for her, I have a gallery downtown.” Brooklyn drops into one of the chairs across from me. “So, why’d you move to Portland?”

I break off a piece of the scone and take a bite.

Me and Finn haven’t gone over that part of our story yet. “My dad is from here. He died recently, and I want to spend more time figuring out who he was when he lived here. He used to come to this café all the time.”

“I might know him, then. What was his name?” Brooklyn’s smile is warm and comforting as she leans forward.

“Jeremiah Redford.”

Her smile only grows wider as she bounces in her seat. “He was my dad’s best friend! He used to come out here every couple years to spend some time with Dad, although, I’m sure that you already knew that.”

“I didn’t.” My chest constricts slightly as I sip the latte. “There is a lot that Dad didn’t really tell us. I don’t even know where his parents live or if they’re still alive.”

Brooklyn reaches into her pocket, pulling out a piece of charcoal and a slip of paper. Black dust covers her fingertips as she writes out an address.

“This is where your grandparents used to live. I’m not sure if they’re still alive, though. I wish that I could be of more help.” She passes me the address, black smudges all over the paper. “You’re going to have to keep in contact with me. I love a good mystery.”

I laugh and fold the paper before sliding it into my pocket. “Thank you. This is more than I thought that I would get when I came here.”

The bell above the door chimes, and Brooklyn stands, ready to tend to another customer.

She gives me a bright smile before heading back to the counter to help Carla. The pair of them work in unison as people start to stream into the café.

I finish off my breakfast, savoring the last few moments of peace I have before I tear my life apart at the seams.

My grandparents’ house is small and set back from the road. Trees tower high over it. Gravel crunches beneath my tires as I make my way up the driveway.

Sweat beads on my palms as I pull up behind the car already at the top of the driveway.

This is a bad idea.

I should have found a way to call them before showing up. I should have figured out how to get in contact with them and then I should have spoken to them.

I’m about to throw the car into reverse when a black lab trots around the corner of the house with a dopey doggy smile on its face.

A woman who looks just like my father follows the dog, her narrowed gaze landing on the car.

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