Page 8 of Steadfast

Striding past the line of guests, she gave them a quick wave of apology for clearly cutting in front of them and pulled open the front door.

“The line’s back there!” A man shouted, throwing his thumb in the direction of the end of the line stretching down the sidewalk.

A woman with pink hair scoffed loudly, hardly bothering to glance up from her phone. “Tell me you don’t follow Oakleigh without telling me you don’t follow Oakleigh.”

“What do you mean?” He turned the focus of his fury towards her.

“If you really followed Oakleigh,” she informed him, rolling her eyes, “you would know that’s clearly Aunt Maeve. She owns the place.”

When Oakleigh’s devoted followers heard Maeve’s name, they flipped their cameras toward her.

She politely waved and smiled, stepping quickly into the shop. She pulled the door closed behind her with the familiar loud jingle. Despite Oakleigh’s well constructed arguments, the bell was one piece of nostalgia that Maeve had insisted on keeping in the shop’s remodel. She exhaled, glancing around the full cafe, where no one had seemed to recognize heryet.

Oakleigh had a red apron looped over her head and tied around her waist. She was clearly swamped between taking orders, filling coffee cups, and keeping track of the timer for the cinnamon rolls baking in the oven.

“What’s up?” Oakleigh inquired to Maeve while keeping her eyes glued to the register as she punched in an order.

“I’m thrilled with how you’ve redefined yourself and that you’ve found your audience. I really am,” Maeve mused, “butdid you have to take me along for the ride?” She tossed her keys on the newly installed butcher block.

“I know you’re not scuffing up my new countertop,” Oakleigh half jokingly scolded Maeve for her daily tradition that had left behind a deep gouge in the original laminate. “And I can’t help it if the internet loves you, Maeve.”

Maeve looked around proudly at Oakleigh’s hard work. The old shop was now highlighted with ambient lighting and wood and metal accents. The little stage that Oakleigh had practically begged for was perfect for poetry nights and live music. Although the aesthetic had changed, Oakleigh had beautifully recognized and preserved Ruth’s vision for the shop. Ruth’s Coffee was always meant to be a gathering place.

Scanning the packed tables of those sipping coffee and absorbed in their phone screens, she finally laid eyes on the one she was looking for. There in the back of the shop was Dallas, scanning his worn leather Bible and taking notes for his Sunday sermon. Appearing fully immersed in his studies, he combed his fingers through his thick brown beard.

She felt her stomach flutter as she noticed the undeniable spark in his eyes when he looked up at her from his Bible.

“Oh, hey there, Darlin’,” he said. He pushed his chair aside and stood to his feet, pulling her in as she wrapped her arms around his middle.

“I needed this today,” she whispered, feeling the comfort of his strong embrace.

Dallas was herperson.He understood her, and she felt safe with him.

They took their seats on opposite sides of the butcherblock table. Without even having to place her order, Oakleigh set Maeve’s mug of hot black coffee on a metal coaster.

“Am I that predictable?” Maeve commented, lifting an eyebrow as she clasped the handle of the mug. She ignored Dallas’ obnoxious grin as he nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, you are, actually.” Oakleigh leaned back and folded her arms. It was clear she had something more to say.

“Is there something else?” Maeve drummed her fingers on the side of the mug while she waited patiently for Oakleigh to answer.

“It’s just that—Mia’s coming today,” she announced. “It’s kind of last minute, I know, but I just found out.” Oakleigh kept her words clipped and brief. “I need to pick her up in a few hours, so I’ll have to close early.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Maeve exclaimed, yet she noticed the dark clouds billowing into Oakleigh’s expression. “We’re happy about this, right?”

“Totally, yeah, happy,” Oakleigh insisted, with a false enthusiasm that was uncharacteristic for her. “I’ll let you two catch up.” She made her way back behind the counter, greeting another customer with a charming smile and generously posing beside them as they snapped a photo.

“Everything okay?” Dallas chimed in, noticing Maeve’s distraction.

“I’m not sure,” Maeve answered, giving a quick shake of her head. “Something feels off with her.” She lifted her mug to her lips and took a long sip of her coffee.

It was bold and delicious.

Although no one could match Ruth’s, Oakleigh’s coffee making skills were undoubtedly coming close.

“I just don’t understand how you drink that stuff,” Dallas joked, knowing exactly what would give Maeve just a touch of aggravation.

“First of all, how dare you,” Maeve fired back playfully. “I don’t understand how you can call yourself a cowboy and not drinkthis stuff.” She looked over the top of her mug, poorly hiding the smile that had crept into the corner of her eyes. “Second of all, you don’t want to see me decaffeinated. Trust me.”

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