Page 17 of Ivory Legacy

“Morning, Jade,” called out Lou, one of our regulars, as he settled into his usual booth. “The usual, please, and make the coffee extra strong today.”

“Coming right up,” I replied with a practiced smile, scribbling down his order. My mind was busy cataloguing the breakfast preferences of Harbor Cove’s early risers.

“Hey, you okay?” asked Rosie, the diner’s veteran waitress, her eyes narrowing with concern as she caught me pressing a hand to my stomach.

“Just the little one saying ‘hello,’” I quipped, trying to brush off the wave of dizziness. She offered me a knowing smirk before heading back to the kitchen.

“Here’s your breakfast, Lou,” I said minutes later, setting down his plate with a flourish. “Eggs over easy, wheat toast, no butter, and hash browns extra crispy. And your coffee—dark as midnight and twice as potent.”

“You’re the best, Jade. This place hasn’t felt this alive in years,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and winking appreciatively.

“Thanks, Lou.” I smiled genuinely, warmed by his compliment. The diner’s clatter and hum were a stark departure from the sterile silence of BioHQ’s labs, but here, amidst the banter and the daily grind, I was carving out a space for myself, even if it was worlds away from where I’d begun.

And the day passed like that.

The clatter of dishes and the soft hum of the refrigerator were the only sounds in the Cove Inn diner as I wiped down the last table, my movements slow and deliberate. Mrs. Thompson, her silver hair catching the glow of the overhead lights, stacked chairs with a care that spoke of years tending to this place.

“Need a hand with those?” I offered, tossing the rag over my shoulder.

“Thank you, dear,” she replied, her voice a soothing timbre after the day’s bustle. “But let’s sit a moment, hm? My old bones could use the break.”

We settled into a booth by the window, the one with a view of the harbor where shadows played on the water’s surface. The silence was comfortable, a companionable stillness stretching between us.

“Jade,” she began, her gaze softening, “I’ve watched you these past weeks, how you carry yourself. You’ve got strength in you, more than you might realize.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Thompson,” I said, feeling the weight of her words settle over me like a blanket. I was aware she was saying it because she was feeling sorry for me, but I appreciated it nevertheless. “This place feels like a strange kind of home now.”

“Good,” she said. “It suits you. I know you’re here alone, and you’ll need to make plans for when the baby is born, so start thinking about it. Alright?”

I nodded. “Thank you,” I whispered, my throat tight with emotion. “For the job, for...for this.” I gestured around the empty diner, at the life I never planned but somehow needed.

“Thank you for bringing your light into our little corner of the world,” Mrs. Thompson replied, giving my hand one final squeeze before standing. “Now, let’s get those chairs down. We open early tomorrow, and the world doesn’t stop turning for late-night heart-to-hearts.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said with a soft laugh, rising to join her in the closing routine. As I moved through the motions, the comforting rhythm of the diner wrapped around me, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of belonging that reached deep into my bones. Here, in Harbor Cove, perhaps I could truly start anew.

The chill of the late afternoon air nipped at my cheeks as I stepped out of the Cove Inn diner, pulling my coat tighter around me. Harbor Cove was quiet, the usual hustle of tourists and locals thinned by the winter season. My breath formed small clouds of mist as I wandered down the cobblestone streets, the rhythmic sound of my boots against the stone a solitary echo in the calm.

I turned a corner, and there it was – the harbor. Sailboats swayed gently in their berths, their masts clicking softly like a subtle, natural percussion. The sea was a sheet of pewter under the overcast sky, and I paused to watch the waves roll in, steadyand soothing. It was moments like these that made the past weeks feel like a distant nightmare.

“New in town?” A voice rang out from behind me, causing me to jump slightly. I turned to see an old man leaning against the frame of his shop door, a pipe perched between his lips.

“Is it that obvious?” I replied with a half-smile.

“Harbor Cove has a memory like an elephant,” he chuckled. “Enjoying the view?”

“Very much so,” I said, before continuing down the street, leaving the man to his quiet contemplation.

Further along, nestled between a florist bursting with hues of winter blooms and a bakery sending out tempting aromas of fresh bread, was a small bookstore that seemed to beckon me closer. Its windows were adorned with displays of classic literature and promising new releases, both begging for attention.

I pushed open the door, a bell chiming above me, and stepped into a world lined with shelves upon shelves of books. The scent of aged paper and ink filled the air, a stark difference from the sterile environment of the lab I was used to. I ran my fingers along the spines, each title a whisper of another life, another world to get lost in.

Hours slipped by unnoticed as I delved deeper into the stacks, picking up novels and thumbing through pages, allowing myself to be immersed in the poetry of words and the escapism they offered. I found solace in the silence and the stories, a respitefrom the relentless pursuit of answers that had once consumed my every waking moment.

“Find anything good?” the clerk asked as she passed by, her eyes bright with the shared secret of book lovers everywhere.

“Too many to choose from,” I admitted, holding up a particularly worn copy of a science fiction classic.

“Ah, a fellow traveler of imaginary realms,” she smiled. “Take your time, Harbor Cove isn’t going anywhere.”

---