Page 42 of Of Literature and Lattes
He followed her line of sight and landed on the customer chatting with Brendon. “Do you know George Williams?”
Alyssa twisted around, using the motion to stretch her back again. “Of course, everyone does. One of his kids was in my high school class. Devon, I think.”
“He must have been a super-old father.”
“Devon and his siblings were adopted long after his own kids graduated. He and Mrs. Williams got all three of them at once. They were in foster care or something and were about to get split up. We were probably in seventh grade then... They had grandkids our age too. One was a year or so behind us and used to call Devon ‘Uncle’ in the hallways.”
Jeremy looked at the man more closely. “The first day he came in, he was upset about the pillows, and everything else too.” Jeremy rested his arms on the two-top. “In fact, a few customers still grumble about them.”
“That’s because their kids and grandkids made those pillows.” At his expression, Alyssa laughed. “Mrs. Pavlis should have told you. Someone should have. The middle school has an eighth-grade home economics class and you make pillows, or we did back then. A few kids gave theirs to Mrs. Pavlis and it became a thing. I bet at least ten kids gave her their pillows each year. Some got too old to keep, some kids took them back after a while, but there were always at least seventy or so in here.”
“One hundred twenty-three.”
“No way. That’s crazy.”
“And it explains a lot.” Jeremy sighed. “When we first opened, before the renovations, it was business as usual...” He pointed to her computer. “I didn’t see a difference between her numbers and ours. But now... I doubt I’ll make it.” He looked around. “All because of some homemade pillows.”
“Your changes are amazing. I was pretty rude the first day I was in here.”
“Nah... You had a point, but not the one you thought you were making. It wasn’t about the coffee, was it? People felt at home here, and I took that away.” He turned and pointed to the two ancient espresso machines. “See those? I wondered how those could be so gorgeous and the rest of this place such a cluttered mess. I thought Georgia had gone batty, but she knew what she was about. She kept her machines pristine. She respected her business. Her seating area? That was for everyone else. And I destroyed it.” He dropped his head and felt a hand, soft and light, on his arm.
“Don’t give up the ship yet. You’ve created something wonderful. Besides, the machines are still here.”
“A new machine should be here any day. The last vestige of the Daily Brew gone.”
Right as he looked up, she glanced past him and wagged a finger to her right. “Someone’s calling you.”
That’s when the chaos began, and somehow in the following few minutes Alyssa ended up volunteering to take Becca to the park, with a “You can run next door and ask my mom for a reference if you need one.” Ryan stepped behind the register because Brendon had gone MIA again, and Jeremy started a verbal showdown with the courier delivering his new espresso machine.
“What do you mean you’re loading it back on the truck?”
The man pressed his foot down on the pallet jack. “I shoulda looked before I unloaded, but your check didn’t clear.”
“Of course it cleared. I sent it last week.”
“I got my orders. Call my boss if you want, but it says right here that it’s going back.” He slid his phone from his pocket and flashed the screen to Jeremy.
“Don’t move. Do not move until I talk to your boss.” Jeremy dashed back into the office, grabbed his cell phone, yelled, listened, waited—then stood in the alley and watched as the driver reloaded the machine and drove away.
He felt rather than saw Ryan step next to him. “How did this happen?”
“Brendon’s back,” Ryan replied.
“I don’t care about Brendon.” Jeremy balked, then lowered his voice. “They took the La Marzocco back—he said the check didn’t clear. What’s going on here?”
Ryan pulled back. “How should I know? You’ve called me off giving any real help.”
“You know what? I can’t do this right now.” Jeremy looked into the coffee shop’s back office. It looked like a dark hole that was about to swallow him. “I need out of here. I have to go get Becca at the park.”
“It’s quiet today. Why not take the rest of the day off? Be with Becca?”
“It’s quiet every day. Which is exactly why I can’t afford a day off.”
Chapter 19
Jeremy stood at the edge of the park, scanning the playscape for his daughter. He finally spotted her atop the ladder helping a younger kid prepare to slide. In her bright red T-shirt and ponytail, she looked just like Krista.
While the reminder carried a little sting, the sight of Becca’s head thrown back in laughter brought a smile too. Those early days had been good—raw and frantic in many ways, but good. Laughter, walks, holding hands, Seattle sunsets. Falling asleep tangled up in each other and heading out early to watch the sunrise.
