Page 11 of The Pumpkin Spice Cafe
‘No, no, no . . . it’s nothing like that!’ Jeanie interrupted, holding up her hands to stop Annie’s explanation and in the process flinging a piece of scone across the café. ‘He’s just helping because of the mayor and because I sort of almost decapitated him and I just need to get some sleep. That’s it. That’s ... um ... that’s all.’
Annie’s eyebrows rose higher as Jeanie spoke. ‘Hmm. Look, I’ve known Logan our whole lives so I’m immune to his particular charms, but I’m not blind, Jeanie. I know what he looks like. He’s objectively hot, but he also has a good heart, and I just don’t want him to get hurt again.’
Jeanie did not want to know how Logan got hurt before, not from Annie anyway. That was his story to tell.
‘Really. It’s just about getting a good night’s sleep. I didn’t come to town to seduce the local farmers.’
Hazel giggled at that and stooped down to pick up the piece of dropped scone. ‘We’re sorry to come and attack you like this,’ she said. ‘The town sort of has a soft spot for Logan. His dad left before he was born, and his mom died when we were kids. The whole town sort of adopted him after that.’
Oh, God, she did not need to think about an adorable little Logan losing his mother.
‘I won’t hurt him,’ she croaked. She shook her head. What was she even saying? ‘I mean, I won’t do anything with him, to him.’ Oh, this was coming out all wrong. ‘I mean, I’m not here to date anyone at all. I just want a fresh start. That’s it.’
Annie nodded. Satisfied. ‘Great! Well, in that case, welcome to the neighborhood.’
‘Thanks.’
Annie hustled out of the café, but Hazel hung back. ‘He’s a really good guy,’ she said.
‘I’m sure he is.’
‘I don’t think it would be the worst thing if you wanted to do something to him.’ Hazel winked.
‘I...’ Jeanie’s cheeks heated.
‘Just don’t run off back to the city and abandon him!’ Hazel said cheerily as she turned to go. ‘See you tomorrow, bright and early, for my pumpkin-spiced latte!’
‘Bye,’ Jeanie said faintly, but her head was spinning from that little visit. Did Logan’s friends want her to date him or to stay far away from him?
It didn’t matter, anyway. She was being honest with them. She didn’t come here to seduce the local farmers or to date them.
She was just here to serve coffee and ideally not die of a stress-induced heart attack at the ripe old age of twenty-eight.
* * *
Several hours later, the bakery case was lined with scones, muffins, and pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies for the morning. Every surface was gleaming, and Logan’s little pumpkins were on every table and counter, providing just the right amount of fall-y-ness. The café was ready, but Jeanie still felt a current of nerves running beneath her skin.
She slumped down on a stool behind the counter and surveyed her new domain. It was certainly different from her desk outside Marvin’s office. No smudged computer screen to stare at, no incessantly ringing phone to answer, no dirty coffee mugs that she was always behind on bringing back to the break room.
Her feet didn’t ache from running around in heels all day, but her back hurt from cleaning and organizing and preparing for tomorrow. Her mind wasn’t swimming with Marvin’s appointments, his wife’s birthday, his mistress’s new address, and his lunch order. But her stomach was rolling with anticipation for tomorrow’s grand opening. What if it all went wrong?
What was she even doing here? She looked out the big front window at her view of Main Street. The street itself was quaint and tidy, with trees lining the road. The leaves were just starting to change, mixing yellow and reds in with the green. Gold and purple mums sat outside most doors along the way.
Note to self: Get mums.
The café was flanked by the Bluebell Bookstore and Sullivan’s Pub. Annie’s bakery sat on the other side of the bookstore. Add in a few other shops and restaurants, the pet store, and the post office, and that was Main Street.
It was, frankly, adorable. Autumnal, small-town New England at its best. Shouldn’t she feel different here? Away from the frenetic energy of Boston, the traffic, and the crowds? Shouldn’t shebedifferent here?
She was damn well going to try.
She rubbed a hand down her face. Maybe she would also try to tuck in early and actually get some sleep before tomorrow. The café opened at seven sharp, she’d been told repeatedly by Norman. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t like her, but she decided to chalk his curt attitude up to general old-man curmudgeonly-ness. Her aunt had trusted him for years, so Jeanie did, too.
But grumpy or not, she was glad Norman had stuck around. He knew all the ins and outs of the café and their two baristas had stayed on as well. Jeanie didn’t know what she was worried about. This place could easily run itself without her. She probably hadn’t even needed to close it for a week, but she’d been so overwhelmed when she arrived. The idea of people actually coming in and wanting their usual morning coffee had nearly sent her running back to Boston to look for her next assistant job.
She thought of the realtor she’d called from the bare floor of her new apartment above the café. Barbara Sanders. She’d insisted Jeanie call her Barb during their brief conversation. Barb’s picture stared up at her from the business card Jeanie had found slipped beneath the front door. She was polished and coiffed, poised, with a wide perfect smile. Jeanie found herself wanting to put her faith in this Barb, wanting to let Barb solve her problems.
She’d nearly agreed to let her put the café up for sale, but then the image of Marvin’s body slumped over his desk, his face resting on a stack of reports, popped into her head and she hastily told Barb she’d changed her mind; though she’d agreed to let Barb send over the comps for what other businesses in the area had sold for recently and then hung up the phone and ate an enormous salad for good measure.
