Page 8 of Love & Lattes at The Mermaid Cafe
“Challenge accepted.”
Lena rolls her pretty blue eyes. “Trouble never gets out of the negative column.”
“Never?” I slip a hand beneath her arm, as if I’m escorting her through a tricky path where we might stumble, as if I have every right to touch her, to steady her, to draw her close and kiss her.
Lena bites her lower lip.
“There’s always a first time for everything.” As Trouble, I’m determined to have her tally tip the positive end of the scale. I open the door to the Barnacle Diner and let her enter before me. Then I take a good look around.
Whereas the Mermaid Café is over-the-top in mermaid atmosphere, the Barnacle is more like a local diner I’d encounter anywhere. Framed photographs of soccer and baseball teams wearing Barnacle jerseys hang behind the cash register. The flooring is black and white checked squares of linoleum. The booths beneath the sea-facing windows are covered in blue pleather, as are the bar stool and chair seats. The tables look to be from the 1950s with a blue atomic design on the Formica. It’s mid-morning and the place is more than half-full.
Lena brings me to the owner of the diner, Dee Holloway. I know from my research that Dee is a no-nonsense woman who used to waitress at a truck stop and has been known to toss unruly customers out the door.
“Ah. You’re on the tour today.” Dee’s eyes are sharp, her bobbed hair an unnatural jet black with a streak of white at her temple.
“I’m on the tour,” I confirm, introducing myself and offering my hand to shake.
“Being on the tour doesn’t mean you’re welcome here.” Dee scowls at my hand without taking it. And then at the paper coffee cup I’m holding. “Fancy shoes. Fancy coffee. I hear you drive a fancy red sports car, too.”
“No crime in appreciating the finer things in life,” I say, lowering my hand and hurrying to add, “Like coffee from the Mermaid Café. It’s quite good.”
Dee’s eyes widen and her face flushes red. I’ve struck a nerve.
“My coffee is very different from Dee’s.” Lena plucks my coffee from my hand, darts behind the counter, and throws our lattes away. Then she returns to my side, taking my hand and giving it what I believe is a quick, warning squeeze. “The Barnacle Diner is known for its filling meals and strong coffee. Isn’t that right, Dee?”
Dee draws a breath and gives me a brittle smile. “Folks say my coffee keeps them awake for days. Might not be your usual style, Cade.” She gives a wry chuckle. “Might keep you up all night plotting Mermaid Bay’s demise.”
“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Lena murmurs, releasing my hand.
“Plotting?” I gesture toward myself. “Moi?”
“He’s got fancy words, too,” Dee quips, tucking that lock of white hair behind one ear. “You won’t fool me. I bet you want to get rid of the Barnacle—and me—and put a chain restaurant in here.”
“When did progress become villainous?” I try to look non-threatening. Must not have succeeded since Lena elbows me.
“When did progress become villainous? In the 1980s,” Dee snaps back, leading us to a booth with a great view of the ocean. While we slide in, she snaps toward the kitchen. “One tour special and two coffees.”
A waitress approaches with two extra-large mugs and a pot of steaming coffee.
While she pours us our cups of Joe, Dee keeps talking, “Merry told me you’re bad at riddles. Tells me a lot about a man when he can’t solve a puzzle.” She scoffs. “Here’s my riddle. What’s black and green and full of vitamins?”
The answer has to be food. We are, after all, in a diner. “Steak and spinach?”
“Wrong! You suck at riddles, Cade.” Dee cackles, clearly relishing my lack of wit. “And you want us to put the fate of our town’s livelihood in your hands? Not a chance.” Still cackling, she heads toward the kitchen, disappearing through a swinging door.
The air seems easier to breath now that Dee’s gone.
I turn my gaze back to the more pleasant part of the tour—Lena. In this light, Lena’s eyes are the blue of the water off the Caribbean islands. I wish this was a date. Then I could reach across the table and intertwine my fingers with hers.
I hear my father’s laughter in my head. He’d never let attraction come between him and a business deal.
It’s a reminder this isn’t a date, that it can’t be, even if Lena’s tally of my attributes rises. “Why do I get the feeling that Dee’s purpose on the tour is to take me down a peg or two?”
“Because…” Lena is dumping every creamer pod on the table into her coffee mug. “The entire tour is designed to show real estate hopefuls, like you, that Mermaid Bay is unique and uniquely united against developers.”
I stare into my mug, breathing in the strong aroma of freshly ground beans. It’s bracing enough that I recall my goal in life—proving my worth to my father—which has nothing to do with a fascinating coffee barista. “Everyone has a price.”
“I like to think that’snottrue.” Lena stirs the now blond contents of her mug. “Drink your coffee or Dee will give you grief.”
