Page 9 of Caffeinated in Amesbury
“Is that a metaphor for your next career move, or are we talking about actual weather?” Cole teased, leaning on the counter with a casual grace that made the room seem brighter.
“Maybe a bit of both,” I replied, the steam from my latte fogging up the air momentarily, like a fade-out in a scene of a movie. I took another sip, the flavors dancing on my tongue as I considered the whirlwind of change that could be on my horizon.
“Change can be good. Keeps the plot of life interesting,” Thomas observed, catching the tail end of my thoughts as if he had read them straight from the page.
“Unless you’re in a Shakespearean tragedy,” Cole added, prompting a round of laughter that felt as cozy as the shop itself.
“Then all bets are off,” I agreed, my smile lingering as I basked in the camaraderie. The laughter, the banter, the smell of books—it was all so intoxicatingly familiar, yet filled with the promise of new chapters. My heart hummed a hopeful tune, one that spoke of returning to one’s roots to find the path forward.
The tinkle of the bell above the door heralded new arrivals, and my gaze drifted from the brothers to a sprite of a girl bounding towards the counter. Lila Grace Evans was a burst of color in the wintry world of Amesbury—a whirlwind of curly red hair and a constellation of freckles scattered across her cheeks like cinnamon on a frothy cappuccino. Her mittened hands pressed against the glass case housing an array of baked goods, her breath fogging up the display.
“Mommy, can I have the marshmallows with my hot chocolate today? The ones that look like snowflakes!” Lila’s voice was a hopeful chirp, her bright green eyes glimmering with the kind of holiday excitement that made even the most humbug heart grow three sizes.
“Only if you promise not to bounce off the walls before dinner,” her mother replied, the affectionate warning wrapped in a smile as she glanced apologetically at Thomas behind the counter.
“Snowflake marshmallows it is, then,” Thomas grinned, winking at Lila as he set about preparing her drink with practiced ease.
I was charmed by the child’s enthusiasm—it was contagious, like the first snowfall of the season. I leaned closer, elbow resting on the counter. “So, Lila, what stories are keeping you up past bedtime these days?”
Lila’s eyes widened, and she swiveled towards me, her eagerness bubbling over. “Oh! I’m reading ‘The Chronicles of Narnia’! It’s magical—there’s this wardrobe, right, and when you go through it, there’s snow and fauns and a really mean queen!”
“Ah,” I nodded sagely, my own memories of Narnian adventures flickering like candlelight in my mind. “You know, when I was your age, I tried to find Narnia in every closet I could sneak into.”
“Did you find it?” Lila asked, her words laced with serious concern for such a grave matter.
“Sadly, no. But I did find some old coats that smelled like adventure,” I quipped, my lips twitching with mirth as I winked conspiratorially at the young reader.
“Maybe you just didn’t push back far enough,” Lila suggested earnestly, nodding to herself as though logging this information for future expeditions.
“Perhaps,” I conceded, tapping my finger to my chin. “But tonight, I might just have to try again.”
“Promise me you’ll send a postcard if you make it,” Lila implored, giggling as she accepted the steaming cup of hot chocolate topped with a marshmallow snowstorm from Thomas.
“Scout’s honor,” I raised a hand, heartened by the innocence and imagination thriving in this small-town haven.
Turning back to my latte, I took a slow sip, letting the warmth seep into my bones. There was something undeniably special about Amesbury—something that couldn’t be captured in the pages of a manuscript or the hustle of city life. It was in the laughter of a child, the scent of pine and peppermint, and the connection woven through simple conversations. I felt it settle around me like a well-worn blanket, comforting and familiar.
“Looks like you’ve made a friend for life,” Cole remarked, his voice tinged with amusement as he observed the exchange.
“Who knew all it took was a shared appreciation for wardrobe exploration?” I smiled, heart light and unexpectedly full. I gazed out the frost-kissed window, where the world outside was adorned in twinkling lights and the promise of snow, feeling, for the first time in a long while, that I might just belong.
6
Thomas
The bell above the door jangled a merry farewell as Felicity’s figure receded into the flurry of snowflakes outside, leaving behind an echo of laughter that seemed to simmer in the air like the final note of a beloved Christmas carol. I wiped down the counter with more vigor than necessary, the mundane task unable to mask the palpable spark that had ignited within me.
“Did you see that? The way she talks about books—it’s like she breathes life into every word,” I mused aloud, voice betraying a hint of wonderment as I busied myself rearranging the pastry display for the umpteenth time.
Cole leaned against the espresso machine, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, I saw it alright. You two have more chemistry than a high school science lab.”
“Shut up, Cole.” I shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted at best. I couldn’t deny that Felicity’s passion had stirred something in me—a longing for discussions that stretched beyond the confines of our small town existence.
“Admit it, you’re smitten.” Cole nudged me playfully, his eyes alight with mischief.
“Am not,” I shot back, but even I could hear the lackluster conviction in my own voice. I busied myself with the coffee grinder, the whirring sound a feeble attempt to drown out Cole’s chuckles.
“Keep telling yourself that, but we both know you’re counting the minutes until her next visit.” Cole’s tone softened, and he poured us both a cup of coffee, the rich aroma weaving through the space between us, a silent acknowledgment of shared anticipation.
