Page 21 of Of Literature and Lattes
“Oh... I’m sorry.”
He threw her a quizzical glance. “Don’t be... Tell your mom I said hi.”
She shook his hand through his truck window, and as he drove away, she remembered. It was the guy her mom had been talking to in the bookshop as Alyssa looked through the window. She remembered Janet’s animated face, Chris’s laughter, and his joy just now at mentioning her mom’s name. It matched her mom’s light and laughter upon entering her bedroom—and none of it made any sense, like a puzzle with edges that didn’t align.
“Ohhh... eeee...”
Alyssa turned. Jasper was deep under her car’s hood.
“Is it bad?”
“Real bad. You’ve blown your mass airflow sensor and your alternator is shot.”
“Will it cost a lot?”
Jasper looked at her, and something in his eyes flickered and softened. “Even if I don’t charge you labor, the parts will cost you close to $1,200.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.” She closed her eyes and felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. She opened them quickly before she hit a new bottom, and her gaze caught upon a sign.
She pointed to it. “You have a Help Wanted sign in your window. Can I work off the cost of the repairs?”
The older man’s eyes widened beyond reason. “You want to work here?”
“I need the money. I need my car. And you need help.”
“I do, but I don’t think that’ll work.” He worried a rag between his hands.
Alyssa noted the dark lines of grease following each wrinkle and along his cuticles. She almost agreed with his statement until she remembered hers. She needed the money. More than that, she needed someone to believe in her and let her prove herself on any level. “Please. I need work.”
Jasper stared at her. She worked to keep her gaze steady.
“I’ll give you a try.”
Chapter 10
“Best hour of the week.” Mike Stowell, dressed and ready for work in his Gramercy Electric uniform shirt, reached across Seth Harrison for a packet of sugar.
“Certainly the one I need the most.” Seth chuckled and turned to look around the room.
Over the twenty years they’d gathered, these men had become good friends, trusted friends. In good times they’d watched ball games together, met for Saturday afternoon beers to chat work and life, and shot each other random emails, jokes, and texts to stay connected and encourage each other through the week.
But in bad times—and the last three years had been saturated with those—they had really shined. Mike, showing up with frozen dinners at his apartment right after he’d left Janet. Roger, meeting him for coffee and even switching trains so Seth had a friend to chat with in the mornings on the way to work. Pickup games of basketball or tennis on the weekends. And this group every Thursday morning.
Seth saw Andante’s new owner walk in the door... Jeremy something or other. He tried to remember what Janet had said about him. She liked the young man, said he was working hard, that he reminded her of herself.
For years people had seen one persona of his wife—confident, charming, adept, pulled together, the consummate hostess. The kids had seen other traits within their mom—controlling, manic, and manipulative. And while he’d reprimanded them when they rolled too far, he had to admit he’d let them vent too often and with too much freedom over the past three years.
It had soothed his ache. It felt good to have all those fingers, those daggers, pointing at Janet and not at him. But all along—even in his lowest moments—he’d known the truth. Janet’s control and brave façade covered a bottomless well of doubt. So certain that her substance was virtually nil, she had buffed on the brightest gloss. Only when scratched could one see how thin her top layer really was.
And while that brought some measure of comfort, it also brought his greatest hurt. Yes, Janet had been the one who cheated. In one night she’d betrayed him, their marriage, and their family. She had defied everything he thought they were. But that night also made it painfully clear how for years he’d taken his understanding of his wife for granted; how he had acted as if the image, and not her substance, was the real Janet; how he had left her alone years before she left him. And how, in the end, it wasn’t his strength that had ushered in their newfound “good times”; it was her act of humility and courage.
Mike caught sight of Jeremy and pounced. “You own the Daily Brew, don’t you?”
“I renamed it, but yes.” Jeremy’s eyes widened, and a minute step backward revealed he was one handshake from fleeing.
Almost as if Mike sensed it, he clamped a congenial hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. The younger man was going nowhere now. “I keep forgetting to call it that... Georgia Pavlis is my aunt.”
“You’re kidding.” Jeremy smiled. “She’s a good woman. She used to call up personally to buy her beans from a place I worked at out in Seattle. She never ordered online.”
