Page 22 of Steadfast

“Well, ain’t that the truth!” Amos bit back.

There wasn’t a day that went by when one of the locals told her how she was letting down Ruth’s legacy. Despite the booming economy she had brought with her, they prickled at any form of change. Every aesthetic choice she had made during the remodel had come with a flurry of complaints. Thethought of replacing Ruth’s legacy had never even crossed her mind, but that mattered little to the ever whispering community of White Bridge.

Oakleigh finally found the key she was looking for. She pushed the shop door open a little harder than she should have, the bell responding with an aggressive jingle.

Amos followed closely on her heels into the little shop, causing her to bristle as he obnoxiously attempted to push her buttons any way possible.

Stepping into her daily routine, she pulled the red apron over her head and tied it behind her waist. The loud whirring of grinding beans drowned out all else and gave her a moment to breathe. When the grounds were the right texture for brewing, she poured them into the large drip coffee maker and pressed the red blinking button. The rich aroma filled the shop as the sound of the bubbling, sizzling coffee began to fill the large pot.

Mia slid a chair across the concrete floors. The legs skidded with a chilling squeal that raised goosebumps on Oakleigh’s arms.

“Love these floors, Oaks,” she complimented, trying to take the edge off the tension any way she could.

“Thanks, you’re just about the only one, though,” Oakleigh tossed out, as she went to preheat the oven.

It had been her original vision to leave the flooring a blank canvas when they had pulled up the tattered, stained linoleum. She had not expected the onslaught of objections over hersimplistic industrial vision for the shop, and it was no secret that many compared the new decor to a cold prison cell. The irony of it all was when she introduced the warmth of a long communal table in the center of the room. The locals complained that they had to sit too closely together, opening the possibility that they might have to converse with their neighbors.

Mia propped her elbows on the counter as she immersed herself in Oakleigh’s work around the kitchen. “When you said you worked in a coffee shop, I don’t think I imagined that you actuallyworkedin a coffee shop.”

Oakleigh shoved a pan of cinnamon rolls into the hot oven. Mia’s innocent observation gave her a moment of reprieve from the aggravation she felt edging under her skin.

“You just going to yap all day?” Amos hollered, snapping Oakleigh’s blood pressure back into overdrive.“Where’s my coffee?”

That’s it.

After everything that morning, it was the nudge she needed to send her temper soaring. Allowing her anger to take the wheel, she sloshed some coffee into a mug. Striding over to Amos, Oakleigh slammed the mug on the table, causing spatters of the hot brew to rain over the table and floor.

The threat was clear.

Amos grunted bitterly under his breath, his lip curling to reveal his clenched teeth. “More like that Maeve Callaway every day.”

Oakleigh made her way back around the counter, ignoring Mia’s wide eyed, blinking eyes. There was no doubt in her mind that Amos had already fired off a text to Maeve, filling her in on every detail of her most recent lapse of self control. Leaning on the counter, she ran her hands over her mouth, letting a long exhale filter through her fingers.

“I messed up.”

Mia whisked past her into the kitchen and plucked a dishrag from a pile of clean towels.

“Take a minute, Oaks,” she whispered. “I’ve got this.”

Oakleigh swallowed hard, she was embarrassed. Her fiery temper was a constant reminder that she still hadn’t left her mother’s long shadow of influence entirely behind.

While Mia sopped up the puddle of coffee on the table, Oakleigh quietly composed herself. She filled up another mug to the brim and brought it to where Amos was sitting. His arms were folded tightly to his chest, and his eyes refused to connect with her remorseful gaze.

“Amos, I’ve had a rough morning, but that’s no excuse for overreacting,” Oakleigh began, her mouth suddenly dry as she struggled to find the words. “I’m very sorry. This one is on the house today.”

He curled his fingers around the handle of the mug and took a sip. “Good coffee,” he grumbled, keeping his response short.

She walked over to the register and rang up the total. She crumpled up the receipt and tossed it in the trash to show he wouldn’t have to pay that day.

Mia leaned her elbows back on the counter, “What else can I help with?”

Oakleigh’s eyebrows shot up at Mia’s offer. “You’re joking, right?”

“I know better than to joke with you on a day like this,” Mia said with a knowing smile that began to melt her reservations. “Where’s my apron?”

Shaking her head, Oakleigh was prepared to let her friend down easy, knowing that she was only trying to be kind. They both knew Mia had never held a job in her life, and Oakleigh was in no mood to train someone new that day, even if she was her best friend.

“I know that sweater cost you like a thousand bucks. Trust me, it will look like a dirty dishrag by the end of the day.”

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