Page 98 of Coffee Shop Girl
The emotion released something inside me. A dam broke in my chest. From it, a mixture of wrenching sobs and giddy laughter flowed out. I wasn’t sure if I was terrified, or relieved, or finally totally crazy with grief.
But I sank into it.
“Please,” I begged Dad when I calmed down. Tears flowed down my face unimpeded now. “Please just ... don’t be really gone if the coffee shop is different, okay? I know it doesn’t make sense. It sounds insane. You’re probably thinking,You’ve lost your mind, Bee. Of course I’ll still be around even if the shop doesn’t smell like dead fish and old man.But I just ... I want to know that you’re not really gone. There’s still you somewhere, even if it’s not the Frolicking Moose. Then I can move on. Then I can be the sister that Ellie and Lizbeth need me to be.”
Another shift of wind ruffled my hair. I closed my eyes, letting it cool the tearstains on my cheek. The silence that followed sank all the way into my bones. I absorbed it, grateful for the peace. The quiet. The sudden fatigue that accompanied a crazed but necessary outpouring of emotion. I welcomed it. I felt lighter than I had in the ten months since Dad’s death. Lighter, and stronger.
My eyes fluttered open when I felt a soft caress on my arm.
A bee lay there, wings gently fluttering. My breath caught as it traveled slowly up my arm, half-flying to my shirt, where it landed right over my heart. A sob broke from my throat. The bee remained, perfectly still, as my heart beat beneath it.
“Got it, Dad,” I whispered, laughing. “Message received. I love you, too.”
34
Bethany
Early August sunshine cut through the windows, leaving the shop sticky with heat. My air conditioning struggled to keep up, which meant last month’s two-hundred-dollar profit might end up going to AC repairs.
No, I’d figure something out. Swap coffee for their work, or something.
“What do you think, Lizbeth?” I asked, my head tilted to the side. “Should we do the Cut and Coffee event from six to seven or seven to eight on Thursday nights? Or six to eight? No, Thursdays won’t work. That’s bingo night at the community center. I think we’ll have to do Wednesdays.”
An almost-finished advertisement filled my computer screen. Millie and I had decided to host a cut-a-thon where people could buy coffee, get a discount on their haircut, and donate half the proceeds to the local food bank. Getting foot traffic into the coffee shop to show everyone the new baked goods was my idea. Buying mini cupcakes and giving out free samples was Lizbeth’s. It was the perfect opportunity to show off the Frolicking Moose’s new look.
Lizbeth lazily turned a page in her book, curled up like a cat on Dad’s recliner. One leg bopped up and down. The plum-colored walls lent a newfound coziness to the shop. With one set of lights turned off, replaced by the warm glow of the lamp, the entire place felt calm.
She had weeded down the mugs to the best ones from Dad’s collection—I willingly gave the rest to Goodwill—and used the rest of the space for donated books.
New games populated the coffee table, which Lizbeth had distressed.Because, come on, Bethany. Crappy-looking furniture is the new thing.
The sprawling, braided rug we’d found at a thrift store lay in a circle beneath her chair, which she’d scrubbed to a fresh shine with upholstery cleaner. It was shaggy in a totally chic way. Only the new designs on the chalkboard equaled it in terms of color, which Lizbeth had happily taken charge of. Her chalkboard palette grew in color every day.
The Frolicking Moose was officially rustic-mountain cozy. Dad would have loved it. I knew I did.
Main Street lay quiet. No customers had been in the store for an hour, which was a new record. Our marketing efforts had doubled revenue over the last four weeks since Maverick left. The new decor certainly had something to do with that.
The temptation to send Maverick pictures of the changes had been almost overwhelming, but I had refrained. He hadn’t reached out to me, nor I to him. We’d both chosen our paths.
While I still ached for him, even after such a whirlwind affair, I couldn’t be the one who went back. Honoring his need for space required nearly all my strength. The pine-scented candle that Ellie had chosen felt like a knife in my chest, even now. But I let it burn, because there was comfort in the loneliness for him.
He’d done his best in difficult circumstances, and I could see that now. These days, I tried to satisfy my need for touch through hugs with every willing customer or friend. A substantial number of people were willing to donate their hugs.
It helped, but it wasn’t the same.
In the end, Maverick might have done the right thing.We hardly knew each other. He was used to a city life and a corporate world. For the next eight years, I was tied to this town, this shop, this path. Braiding our worlds would have been difficult, at best. He’d always live in my memory as a bright spot. An illumination. Downright magic.
Like lipstick that never faded.
Still, that didn’t stop me from thinking about him. Where was he now? Some random town in South Dakota? Minnesota? I scoffed. No. Probably something less remote this time. He’d probably had his fill of small-town life for now. He was probably back in California with his family.
Did he want to go back to the city?
Any new tattoos? He’d have to have a new niece or nephew for that, which only highlighted how little we knew each other at all.
This had been for the best.
My attempts to make myself believe that only drove me deeper into a hole. Resignation didn’t feel much better. No matter what I told myself, Imissedhim. The way he smiled. The look in his eyes when I chewed on my bottom lip—like he wanted to bite it too. I knew what my yoga pants did to him. It’s why I wore them so often. He’d been more than my latest flame; he’d been my friend. I missed discussing the state of the store every morning. Asking questions about cash flow.
