Page 1 of Inevitable Inheritance

Prologue

Libby blewback her curly brown locks as they fell into her face again. One puff of air from the corner of her mouth sent them flying out of her face momentarily, allowing her to follow through with the nightly routine of cleaning all the stainless steel countertops at the Roasted Bean. It had been open mic night at the coffee shop, which meant it was a late night for the employees.

Libby had worked at the Roasted Bean for the last two years. She had bounced around from place to place before that, but when she came to Chadumor, Maine, two years earlier, she had fallen in love. It was a small town with cobblestoned streets, and it was right next to a government telescope that blocked all signals so that the town was without Wi-Fi or Internet access. It was a quaint town that embraced being sans technology, and Libby loved it.

“Doesn’t that hair falling in your face drive you crazy?” her co-worker Ben asked beside her, as the unruly curl once again fluttered in front of her thick black-framed glasses.

Libby bent her head a little lower, causing more of her disobedient curls to fall down into her face, and shrugged .

Ben laughed. “How come you don’t pull it back if it keeps falling down?” he asked, coming closer and tugging on one curl.

Libby jerked back, now looking at Ben. She shrugged again. “I like it down.”

Ben leaned back onto the counter he and Libby were standing at and smiled at her. “I do too,” he said softly, and Libby immediately shifted her gaze down again.

Libby avoided attention. She didn’t feel comfortable with people looking at her. It was why her hair was the way it was—it blocked her from view. It was why she looked away often and avoided conversations. She hated it all.

But as she glanced up to see what Ben was doing, she was happy to see he was still looking at her with that small smile on his face. He wore a gray Fidel hat over his shaggy black hair, and a thick beard covered his face. He had started working at the Roasted Bean two months earlier with Libby, but he would come in many times on their Friday open mic nights to play his acoustic guitar and sing. His voice was raspy and cool, and Libby liked to close her eyes and get lost in it.

And it was his singing that had built up the huge crush she had on him.

Libby had trained Ben when he started, so they had spent a lot of time together. Libby didn’t mind talking to people. She just hated when they focused on her too much. She preferred to talk about things other than herself. Ben never pried, and that appealed to Libby too.

She thought she had imagined it, maybe even dreamed it, but it seemed like Ben had been paying a lot of attention to her. And this was confirmed by Sara, another server at the Roasted Bean. Sara was Libby’s only other friend here in Chadumor, and she was eager to gossip about Ben’s attention, which she had noticed as a voyeur.

“He is totally into you!” Sara had informed Libby during their weekly dance class at the town center.

Libby had shaken her head at the suggestion, but deep down she both hoped and dreaded that this was true. She was unsure how to handle romantic attention, because at twenty-four she had never had a boyfriend and wasn’t sure she would know what to do. Before her life in Chadumor, she had lived a sheltered life. She hadn’t even known how to use an ATM, so talking to a guy was well outside her area of expertise.

And now here she was, scrubbing the same spot of stainless steel over and over again, painfully aware that Ben was looking at her and totally unsure of what to do. Should she say something? Should she walk away?

Suddenly Ben’s hand landed on Libby’s scrubbing hand, stopping her . “It’s clean,” Ben said softly to her, but he let his hand linger on hers.

Libby moved her eyes from their joined hands up to Ben’s face. When she met Ben’s eyes, he smiled and brought his free hand up to rest on Libby’s cheek.

Her breath caught in her throat as Ben searched her face and then dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. Libby’s heart raced, and butterflies danced in her stomach. When Ben brushed her lips again, Libby pushed forward to return his kiss.

Ben slid his hand to the back of her head and leaned in when suddenly a car horn blared.

Ben and Libby jumped apart and looked at each other wide-eyed. The car horn honked again repeatedly, and Ben rolled his eyes. “It’s my ride,” he explained to Libby, looking every bit as irritated and annoyed as she felt.

“It’s okay,” Libby said softly.

“No, it’s not,” Ben said, grabbing Libby’s hand. “I want to stay, but we have a gig—”

HONK!

“It’s okay, really,” Libby assured him.

Ben gave Libby’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, searching her eyes.

Libby nodded, and Ben leaned in to give her another quick kiss.

“I can’t wait,” he said against Libby’s lips. He took a step back and let go of her hand. “Night, Libby,” he said, walking backward to the door, his eyes still on her.

“Night, Ben,” Libby replied, smiling at him. Ben smiled widely at her and then turned and ran out the door as more honking ensued.

Libby reached up to gently touch her lips and then ducked her head and smiled. After a few minutes, she dropped her fingers and turned back to the counter to finish cleaning up.

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