CHAPTER 12
T here was nothing worse than a slow day at the café, Treva decided, as she glanced at the large clock mounted on the wall for at least the fourth time in the last hour. Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. Of course, there were a lot of things worse than a lagging afternoon, but she did find a very slow clock difficult to bear.
Frowning at the thing, she remembered when she’d bought it. She’d been in Medina on a shopping trip with her mother, aunt, and Emma Jane. Once a year they joined a shopping expedition put on by a local bus company and spent the day exploring the Cleveland area. First they’d gone to Edgewater Park in Cleveland for brunch, then to the mall in Strongsville. Their last stop was for snacks and shopping in Medina before they returned home to Walden. After enjoying coffee and fresh donuts, they wandered around the town’s square. And then she’d seen it. A beautiful clock housed in a black metal framework. The face was a pale gold, and the clock’s black hands were intricately designed. It was the most beautiful clock she’d ever seen. It had almost been the most expensive one.
But something about it had spoken to her, and she’d known that she had to have it. Her mother, aunt and even Emma Jane had tried to talk her out of the purchase, but Treva had refused to listen to their practical and well-meaning arguments. All she had been able to think about was how perfect it would look in her otherwise rather sparse coffee shop. So she’d bought it. Lugged it home. Begged her father and one of his friends to hang it up on special black iron hooks.
And now it stared back at her in all its perfect glory.
Taunting her.
If she had a full kitchen in the back, the lack of customers would be easier. Then, at the very least, she could be making dough and refrigerating it. It would be so nice to only have to bake her scones, muffins, and bars in the evening.
Because she didn’t, Treva was occupying herself by cleaning the baseboards. That task was almost as bad as watching the beautiful clock stare back at her.
Maybe even worse, because she was continually resting on her knees.
Aunt Ruth had stopped by, eager to help her wait on customers. She’d stayed to supposedly keep Treva company, but their conversation was long gone.
For the last hour, her aunt had sat in a chair and watched Treva clean. And that, of course, was worse than being alone.
“It’s slow as molasses in here,” Aunt Ruth said. “How often is it like this?”
“Not often, praise the Lord. I haven’t had a day so slow since the first week I opened.”
Her aunt frowned, making her rather thick salt-and-pepper eyebrows almost meet. “I wonder what’s keeping everyone away?”
“No telling.”
“Hmmph.” She folded her arms across the front of her cranberry-colored dress.
“Aunt Ruth, I told ya that you should go on home. There’s no need to stay here.”
“I know you don’t need me, but I hate to leave you all alone.”
“I’m alone here a lot. I’ll be fine.” Hoping to convince her, she added, “You could work on that quilt you started for Dora.” Her cousin’s youngest.
“I suppose I could. Dora ain’t getting any younger, you know.”
“I didn’t think she was,” Treva joked.
Either Aunt Ruth didn’t catch her humor, or she was already thinking of her quilting plans. Whatever the reason, she looked serious as she stood up. “All right then, dear girl. I’ll be on my way.”
“Thank you for coming over, anyway.”
“Of course. Oh! Looks like you’ve finally got a customer.” She turned to the newcomer. “ Wilcom! It’s a fine day for a cup of coffee, ain’t so?”
“I couldn’t agree more,” the man said.
Making Treva freeze in her tracks.
She knew that voice. At one time, she even knew it better than her own.
Turning around, she gaped. It was Reuben Holst. There was no doubt about that. He had the same eyes, same square jaw, same broad shoulders and solid build.
What was different was that he was now looking as English as if he’d been born in an apartment in the city. Who would’ve ever imagined Reuben would be wearing jeans with brown loafers and a green sweater?
Or that she would think that such clothes suited him?
“Hi, Treva.”
Reuben was looking at her in a way that he never had when they were courting as teenagers. Like she was something special.
It made her pulse race and her breath hitch, despite a dozen warnings going off in her brain.
“Reuben, is it really you?” she asked. It was a silly question, but she needed time to pull herself together.
Aunt Ruth blatantly scanned him from head to toe. “It’s almost hard to recognize ya, dressed the way you are.”
“It’s been a long time, but I haven’t changed that much,” he said. “And neither have you.” Completely ignoring her aunt, Reuben stepped closer. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard you converted your family’s old barn and opened up a coffee shop.”
“Actually, her father and uncles did most of that,” Ruth said.
Again, he didn’t spare her aunt a second’s glance. Looking around the place, he smiled. “It’s really cool, Treva.”
“ Danke .” Looking into his blue eyes, she tried to convince herself to harden her heart or turn him away, and to feel a little of all the hurt feelings she’d been trying to get rid of for years.
That would be the smart thing to do. Yes. She should keep everything businesslike. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Or a latte or something? It’s on the house.”
Continuing to look at her intently, he murmured, “I’d like that a lot.”
Goosebumps formed on her arms. Unbelievably, her body was responding to him again. And—the fierce traitor that it was—it had her suddenly forgetting all of the ways he’d hurt her.
No doubt about it, Reuben Holst was still dangerous.
Moving around the counter, she breathed a little easier. The space gave her at least a feeling of control. “What would you like?”
“How about a medium latte?”
“Would you like any flavoring?”
“Nope.” He looked in the case. “But I would like something from there.” He smiled at her. “You made them all, didn’t you?”
“Guilty.” Ugh. Her cheeks were heating up! What was wrong with her?
“I’m so proud of you, Trev.”
Treva wasn’t sure if Reuben was being completely sincere, but she wasn’t going to complain.
Ruth hurried to her side like a nervous sparrow. “What are you doing, Treva?” she whispered. “You need to tell him to leave.”
Her aunt was right. But wrong, too. Treva needed to hear what Reuben had to say. “Stay out of this, Aunt Ruth.”
She puffed up like pigeon. “Excuse me?”
“I love you, but I’d like you to leave.”
Looking scandalized, she shook her head. “You canna be alone with him.”
“I’m not a young miss, Aunt. We both know that.”
“But still.”
“I won’t hurt her, Ruth,” Reuben said.
The air practically crackled as her aunt turned to face her ex-boyfriend. “You already have,” she said.
Reuben looked ashamed but didn’t turn away.
“Aunt Ruth, please. I know you mean well, but I need to do this. On my own.”
“All right, fine. I don’t understand, but you are a grown woman.” She looked Reuben over, practically bit her lip from trying not to say anything, then grabbed her canvas tote bag and walked out the door.
Treva tried to pretend that the espresso machine needed a hundred percent of her attention as she prepared two lattes. One for him and one for herself. “Here you go.”
“Thanks. Can we sit down?”
“ Jah . I mean, yes. What pastry would you like?”
“Whichever one you think I’ll like best.”
His wording irritated her, but she tried to pretend it didn’t. Just as she tried to pretend that she wasn’t remembering all of his likes and thinking that the chocolate and orange scone would be his favorite choice.
Setting it on a plate, she walked around the counter and met him at a table.
“It’s not usually this empty.”
“I heard that it’s usually packed and that sometimes the wait is as long as ten minutes.”
She wasn’t sure if his statement was criticism or some sort of backhanded compliment. That was why when she spoke, she weighed each word with care. “We’re trying our best. Customers don’t have to wait that long all the time.”
Reuben shook his head. “Don’t you apologize. I’m only sharing what I’ve heard.”
“Ah.”
“It’s selfish, but I’m glad that I got here in the middle of a slow spot. I thought I might have to ask you to meet with me another time, and I was worried about what you would say about that.”
“I would’ve told you no.”
“I thought you probably would.” He took a sip from his drink. “This is really good. Fantastic.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She was pleased he liked it. But she hadn’t done anything amazing. She’d made a good cup of coffee.
“What kind of scone is this?”
“Chocolate and orange.” She could feel her cheeks heat. She was blushing. What was happening to her?
His eyes warmed. “Like I said, I’m selfishly glad that isn’t what happened.”
“Why are you here?”
“I know I have a lot to tell you, but give me a second, okay? Can you tell me a little bit about how this came to be?”
“All right. Fine.” Little by little, she told Reuben about her dream to own a coffee shop of her own and how she’d cleaned houses and done all kinds of jobs at night while she worked at a coffee shop in Berlin to learn all about running one of her own.
Then she’d sat down her parents and two uncles and proposed a business plan. She’d discussed the prices of an espresso maker, her vision for the barn, and her long-term goals, which ended with her being able to open her shop after two more years of hard work and penny-pinching.
To her surprise and delight, all of the men shook their heads and presented a business plan of their own. That one included them buying the machine and converting the barn right away. Then she would pay them back a little bit at a time in installments.
While she talked, Reuben ate his treat and sipped the coffee. He listened intently and didn’t interrupt her once.
That was a surprise. The Reuben she’d known had always been about himself and his wants. Never listening to hers.
When she finally finished her story, he was done with his scone, as well. He grinned.
“That was quite the tale. It’s impressive.”
“It’s a tale of a woman with many blessings. My family is wonderful.”
“They are. They’re the best.”
“Are you finally going to tell me why you’re here?”
“I guess I should.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Treva, I want you back.”
And . . . that’s when Treva knew that she really should’ve made her aunt stay. She was in way over her head.