Page 14 of Unmoored

“I looked it up on Google Maps,” I shake my head. “It didn’t tell me anything. There isn’t even Street View here!”

“No. They keep calling me up to barge the car over to the island. I tell them cars are banned and offer to put them in touch with a buddy who’ll sell them a golf cart. For some reason, they don’t call back.”

I laugh as we approach the glass front window of the coffee shop, but there’s a sudden, sharp tapping noise.

Someone’s knocking on the glass window.

The place is the size of a postage stamp—and it’s completely full. Almost all the patrons look like the kind of older ladies who embroider rude words, dye their hair outrageous colours, and wouldn’t hesitate to tell off any troublemakers.

One of them is waving, grinning wickedly as she glances back and forth between us. And the others are already sneaking looks.

I brace myself for a real taste of being a stranger in a small place—but Murph stumbles to a halt, nods politely at everyone waving, and looks at me.

“Changes of plans. This way.”

Instead of going inside, we head around the corner to a metal roll-up takeout window in the side of the building. The barista is a bearded guy in a black apron, and his name tag says “Jamie”.

Jamie waves to us with a friendly smile.

“Hey! I’ll be with you in a second.”

“Sure,” Murph grunts, like he’s got to pay for every syllable he uses.

“Hi, Murph!” someone calls out from beyond the counter—which now separates us from the crowd, at least.

He nods politely back at the greetings, but he keeps his eyes on Jamie as he leans over the counter to deliver a coffee to the nearest table.

“I guess you know all the neighbours here, huh?” I ask, barely bothering to hide my grin. I know how to try to avoid conversations in a small town, and Murph’s obviously a pro at this.

“Yes,” Murph says, studiously polite. “You’ll get to know them all soon, too.” But it’s the look in his eye that tells me he’s trying to avoid us being seen together.

“Extra cinnamon? Oh, you’re an angel, Jamie.”

“Hey. Don’t ruin my brand,” Jamie says before turning to us. “Thanks for waiting, folks. Morning, Murph. The usual?”

“Mmfh,” Murph grunts back. I’m getting to know his nonverbal language enough to tell that that’s a friendly grunt, not just a polite one.

Jamie glances at me, openly curious. “And I don’t think I’ve seen you, have I? Welcome, uh…?”

“Eden,” I tell him, grinning. “But if you end up writing any Aidan-adjacent spelling on the cup, it’s okay. Except for Sweden. You wouldn’t believe how often that happens.”

Murph snorts, and Jamie outright laughs. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it,” he taps his temple. “Now, what can I get you?”

“Vanilla oat latte, please?”

“Coming right up, Finland.”

I burst out laughing as Jamie turns away, glancing up at Murph.

I’m definitely not in Vancouver anymore.

Hold on. Amongst all the older ladies inside, there’s a guy about my age. And he’s trying to watch us. The more Murph shuffles as if to hide me from view, the further back he leans in his chair.

Finally, Murph coughs and turns his back. The guy grins and plonks his chair on the ground, winking at me before turning back to the others for a whisper-conference.

“So?” I fold my arms playfully as I look up at Murph. “Nosy neighbour? Ex-boyfriend? Scandalous fling? I want details.”

Murph huffs a laugh, leaning back against the counter. “He’s my brother.”

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