Page 13 of Freeing Camila

From the moment she laid eyes on the spirited woman, who was well into her sixties, Cammie knew that she was completely and utterly enamored. And when the woman spoke to her, she knew she’d found a kindred spirit.

“What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?” the woman asked as soon as Cammie reached the counter.

Utterly bewildered by the woman’s words, she asked, “What?” The unexpected question left her completely perplexed, and her mind raced to make sense of it.

“What is a pirate’s favorite letter?” she asked again, pausing only slightly before giving an answer. “P. Otherwise they’d be irate.”

Cammie blinked, a moment of confusion washing over her before her words finally registered. The sudden, unexpected joke from the woman surprised her, but then she dissolved into peals of laughter.

“I’ve never been greeted in such an unusual manner,” Cammie said once she’d gotten her amusement under control.

“I like to keep things interesting around here,” the woman replied.

“I like it.”

With a graceful bow of her head, the woman’s earrings, adorned with tiny bells, created a sweet, melodic chime that echoed softly in the air. “I aim but to please. I find greeting people with a little levity brightens even the darkest day they may be experiencing.”

Cammie was so captivated by the woman that all she could think was how much she wanted to be just like her when she was her age, admiring her poise and confidence. Having grown up under her father’s rigid control, where she was expected to present a certain image at all times, she found the freedom to express herself through her words and clothing to be incredibly valuable. And now that she had her freedom, she intended to make the most of it. Hence her Little Victories Bucket List. She was determined to embark on a journey to engage in activities and adventures that would have previously been beyond the realm of possibility for her. She wanted to push her boundaries, to taste the unfamiliar, to feel the earth beneath her feet in ways she’d never imagined, to experience the unknown with all her senses.

The idea may have seemed fantastical, a flight of fancy to some, but she felt its necessity in her bones.

“I bet it works wonders,” Cammie replied.

“More often than not. I’m Marilyn Lenzer, the owner of this fine establishment.”

“Camila Pierce,” she replied hesitantly, the name still feeling foreign and awkward on her tongue.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Camila.”

“Cammie, please.”

“Cammie,” the woman said, a warm smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “So, what can I get for you?”

“Well, I was hoping . . . that is . . . um . . .” Suddenly, her nerves were leaving her tongue tied. She’d never asked someone for a job before and didn’t know if there were certain protocols she should follow. She didn’t want to make a mistake and offend the pleasant woman.

“Spit it out, sweetie. There’s no need to be shy in my shop.”

“I heard you might be looking to hire,” she blurted out. It wasn’t exactly a polished request, no doubt lacking in finesse, but it was all she could manage in that moment.

With a critical tilt of her head, Marilyn assessed Cammie, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “Do you bake?”

“Well, no. But . . .” Darn. She hadn’t considered the fact that Marilyn might want someone who could bake. Panicked, she blurted, “Coffee!”

“What was that?”

Darn it. She was messing this up royally. “I, uh, I dabble in coffee. That is, I like creating different brews. Finding the perfect beans. I can make anything from a latte to a cappuccino and everything in between.”

Marilyn’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The tiny bells at Marilyn's ears chimed merrily as she waved her hand. “Forget that ma’am shit. I ain’t no ma’am.”

“I’m sorr?”

“And don’t ever apologize to me.” Flabbergasted, Cammie’s mouth snapped shut with a little click. This woman was a force to be reckoned with, and Cammie found herself strangely drawn to her. “Now, if you can make me a perfect macchiato, you’re hired.”

Excitement surged through Cammie, a thrilling rush that made her heart pound like a drum and ignited a spark of hope. “Really?”

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