Chapter Three
After a day of wallowing in self-pity and wondering if I should tuck tail and head back to the life I was used to, I pulled on my metaphorical big girl underpants and decided I needed to man up and not run away. Yet. Most of the time, when the first failure in a new place happened, I was gone before sunlight the next day. But I really liked it here so far. I wanted to make this town work. Until I figured out how exactly, work duties prevailed.
Amazingly enough, I knocked on the locked front door of the Coffee Loft at one minute before seven, something that was greeted with a warm smile from Elliot.
He checked his watch as he pushed open the door. “Good morning, Molly.”
“Morning.” I sidestepped him and sauntered over to the counter where I tucked my purse away.
“Thank you for being here on time.”
Hanging up my jacket and securing my hair with a claw clip, I donned the brown Coffee Loft apron over my blue floral print dress. “Thank the triple-set alarm clock. It was the third one that finally startled me awake.”
With the door now unlocked, the first customer walked in.
“It’s a brewtiful day,” I said with a smile I wasn’t quite feeling since I was still waking up. “What can I get started for you?”
The lady surveyed the board and shifted back and forth on her feet. “Hmm… How about a lofty-sized, triple-shot, half-caf, no foam, extra hot, soy milk latte with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla syrup, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and a light drizzle of caramel on top, served at exactly 142 degrees Fahrenheit?”
What the beans was that? Where was that on the menu? I made sure my fake smile stayed put rather than drop to the floor with a wide-eyed gaze. “Can you repeat that please so I make sure I didn’t miss anything?”
With a small sigh, she repeated her highly complicated order, and I charged her accordingly. She waited off to the side while I two-handed the machine. The earthy scent of coffee beans mingled with the faint sweetness of the vanilla, a combination that promised warmth even on the frostiest mornings.
A couple of minutes later, her order was perfectly made, and I served it to her with my best customers-rock smile.
“Thanks for stopping by. Java nice day.”
That was a Nina-ism; one of the co-owner’s signature goodbyes that she was good with us using.
The lady dropped a toonie into the tip jar and left the store.
“That’s a Friday morning for you.” Elliot gave the countertop a quick wipe and shook his head. “Full of all sorts of complications.” The light flickered in the display case and he thumped the far-left corner near the ballast which solved the problem.
“Let’s hope it was a one-off.”
I grabbed a nearby cloth, and wiped the steamer down, humming along to the music playing overhead. Classic music was my jam, but it was especially fun to listen to a string quartet play modern songs.
“Last night Nina and I were talking about you.” Words to put the fright into any employee’s head.
I swallowed down a huge lump of panic. Had they figured out who I was? “Oh yeah?”
Elliot straightened up to his full height. “Why don’t you play your flute here sometime? We could set up something in the corner?”
“And take away Sage’s spot?” I laughed with relief, pushing an easy excuse to say no politely. “No way.”
Sage, Elliot’s girlfriend, was also a regular and sat in the same spot—on the wingback chairs tucked into the corner. Usually, she arrived around nine-thirty with a stack of books either for the bookstore she worked at, or from it; I always forgot which.
“Besides, I only play with others. I don’t like to play on my own.” That was only a partial truth. Sometimes, I’d drive to a secluded spot along the river or near Pyramid Lake and play where no one could hear me. It was then that I came alive, becoming one with my jazz flute.
“Well, keep us in the back of your mind. You never know, and we’d love to show you off. Could just do a fifteen-minute set once a shift, or a longer set on other days. You could invite other members of the jazz band to play too.”
As sweet as that was, I knew it wouldn’t happen.
“At least hang a sign up on the bulletin board on the wall for when you’re playing next. I’m sure others would love to hear you play.” He tossed his gaze over to the wall full of coffee cup decorated push pins holding slips of paper in place. “Sage and I have our tickets for tomorrow night, and we’re super excited. I know others would love to attend too.”
“Uh, that’s great.” I swallowed, wishing I didn’t know that. “Thanks.”
Tomorrow night was our dress rehearsal for the fundraiser next weekend and the few tickets made available to the general public had been sold. I just didn’t know that my boss had purchased a pair, and thinking how he’d be in the audience listening and watching, only ratcheted my nerves even more.
Another customer waltzed in, and thankfully, that conversation was over. Why I’d started humming along in the first place was beyond me, and something I vowed to stop.
The morning ran smoothly. Elliot and I, and the newest employee Annie, were a solid team, efficiently moving like a well-choregraphed dance troupe to the musical sounds of hissing machines and bean grinders.
In fact, when I glanced back at the clock, it was already ten-thirty, and Mr.-I-could-set-my-watch-by-his-appearance had yet to arrive. Jeremy was fifteen minutes late. I hoped nothing was wrong.
Just as I was about to put out an APB on his whereabouts and start poking my head out to search the sidewalks, the door opened and in he breezed like a leaf in the storm with disheveled looks to match. It was rare to see him without his ball cap away from the motel, but I had to admit, it gave him a certain charming appeal.
“Good morning, Jeremy.” I didn’t realize how tightly my shoulders were wound until they sank at the sight of him—late, yes, but here. Why did it matter? It didn’t. Nope, not one bit.
He greeted me with a nod, but no smile. Always so serious.
I leaned slightly closer to him, wrapping my hands around the iPad, ready to type in his order. “The usual? Or would you like to try something a little different for a Friday morning?” I almost added since you being late is unusual but I held back.
What would I have recommended if he said yes? Maybe the Never Bean Kissed ?
Jeremy inhaled sharply but kept his voice low. “The usual.” He pulled out his wallet from the inside pocket of his beige jacket; he was one of the rare ones that still used cash. “Please.”
I flicked my gaze to the mug wall to see if his preference was there, and a sweet sigh rolled out that it was. He loved the Snoopy and Woodstock cup. “One flat white with whole milk and a pump of hazelnut.” I typed it in, but we really should’ve had a button that said ‘Jeremy’ on it. It would’ve saved us time. “Same with the chocolate knot?”
A change from the usual lack of eye contact, he nodded and allowed me to glimpse his gaze until it became too much when he softly lowered his focus so I couldn’t admire the two different colours. Did he hate it when people made direct eye contact? Maybe I should’ve stared at the deep vee forming in his brows instead.
“Sorry,” I said, tucking my chin in. I gave him the total, took his cash, and handed the change back. He promptly dropped it into the tip jar. “Just give me a minute to get that prepped for you. I’ll make it extra special so you’ll love it a latte.”
From beside me, Elliot gave a slight chuckle as he pulled out the second last chocolate knot from the display case and set it on a plate. Didn’t he ever grow tired of hearing the puns?
“Thanks,” Jeremy said with a slow drawl.
I stepped to the machine and began preparing the perfect flat white. After I poured the milk into the stainless-steel measuring cup, Jeremy cleared his throat and I looked up.
“Laundry is fixed.”
“Oh, great.” A smile bubbled on my lips. “That’s fantastic. Thank you.” And I meant it. It was much easier to have the washing machines two doors away than to haul everything into the laundromat and spend a couple of hours just sitting there, waiting patiently as I stared out onto one of the bustling streets in town.
I finished up his flat white and added a fun foam art of a maple leaf—my specialty. It took me a long time practising it, but it was looking more and more like my vision.
“For you.” I set the mug down at the same time as he grabbed it, his rough fingertips brushing against the top of mine. “Enjoy.”
“Nice one.” He pointed at the foam maple leaf.
With a steady head bob, he lifted his mug and took his plate over to his spot which was currently occupied. He stood there for a heartbeat, as if contemplating what to do next, and with sagged shoulders sat at the table next to his usual spot. That table was more in the middle of the space, and if he was anything like me, it made a person feel more exposed. His typical spot was the table closest to the wall and if he pushed his chair out just enough, it would make anyone uncomfortable to walk behind it. That was me too. Personally, I loved my back to a wall with a captain’s view of everything around me. It rattled my feathers when people could walk behind me while I was sitting.
As I continued serving customers, I kept a side eye on Jeremy. He was late, he couldn’t sit in his usual spot and he generally seemed unsettled. However, before I could circulate and clean tables (and answer any random crossword puzzle clues), he chugged back the rest of his coffee, wiped his mouth and rose, depositing his mug and empty plate on the counter in front of me.
“Thank you,” he said slowly, almost like he was out of breath. “The best part of my day. Mocha me another one of these tomorrow?”
“I can’t espresso how much I’ll enjoy that,” I shot back, trying not to grin at his uncharacteristic attempt. “See you later.”
I watched him leave, his shoulders tense, his stride uneven, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that for once, I wasn’t the only one carrying a storm inside.
* * *
Saturday night rolled around—the jazz band’s dress rehearsal—and I wore my finest black dress, black shimmery tights and flats. As per our conductor, the only thing to be noticed by the audience were the instruments, and we all had a strict code to follow. As nervous as I was to be playing in front of an audience for the first time, especially knowing my boss was going to be listening, I was also vibrating with excitement. This was my chance to do something I loved – no matter where I was living.
I’d only joined the band in the fall after repeatedly telling them I hadn’t played in a band for a while, not since I took it up just before accepting the role on Shadowed Realms , mainly as a hobby to throw on my resume. They didn’t seemed to care one iota and they were happy to have another flutist, especially tonight since the other one was out with the flu.
Before leaving for the site of the concert, I glanced into the mirror to ensure I was as polished as my instrument. My natural reddish hair was in perfect waves and my makeup flawless, hiding the smattering of freckles I despised, because, in TV -land, it was all the rage with the child character I had played. There were no runs or snags in my tights and the hem of my little black dress fell to just above my knees. At least my outside looked solid and put together, I just needed to find a way to control the racing of my heart.
Blinking slowly and inhaling deeply, I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection.
“You’ve got this! Where there’s a John Williams, there’s a way.” I laughed at my own stupid joke.
Naturally, I arrived at the Sleepy Hollow Lodge late, but made it to my cushioned chair in time to get my music sheets positioned and a few practice notes in.
All the house lights were still on so as I readied myself, I scanned the audience, connecting with Elliot, Sage, and Nina. Their enthusiastic waves felt like a hug you weren’t sure you wanted, but after a second, you melted into it; it was a reassuring embrace from across the room. Sending a silent thank you with a bob of my head, I continued to search for Derek, but thankfully, I did not see him; that moment would be next weekend at the fundraiser. With a final sweep of the crowd, my gaze snagged on Jeremy in the back corner, his expression unreadable. His presence shouldn’t matter—but it did, a quiet flutter catching in my chest. How did he know?
The older conductor—a Steve Martin look-alike—dressed in a tuxedo with tails, walked onto the stage, and after a brief introduction, the house lights dimmed, and the stage lights warmed to a deep golden glow. I raised my flute to my lips, fingers poised over the keys, and watched Raine Malone tap his stick on the podium. We were off.
As I launched into the solo, time seemed to slow. The notes shimmered in the air, each one a tiny masterpiece, and the stage lights blurred as I closed my eyes, letting the music guide me. It was as if I wasn’t just playing—I was soaring. When the last note hung in the air, the audience seemed to hold their breath, and for a heartbeat, I felt like the center of the universe. Then came the applause—a wave of sound that rushed over me, wrapping me in its warmth.
* * *
An hour after the dress rehearsal, I grabbed a bag of Doritos and pulled on a pair of leggings. I headed to the river as I needed to capture and hold onto that calming feeling right now. With my hat pulled over my hair, I tossed on my winter coat and tucked a blanket under my arm before stepping outside into the cool May evening air.
Heading to the corridor that split the motel into a north and south wing, I passed by the motel office. The curtains were usually drawn unless he was at the front desk, restocking vending machines, fixing stubborn faucets, or doing whatever it was motel managers did to keep their places functional. Quiet and dedicated, he had a way of blending into the background, but once you noticed him, he was hard to ignore. Jeremy was a hard worker, quiet, but fiercely dedicated to running a well-kept, if not quite aged, motel.
Slumping into the pine-green Adirondack chair with faded handrests and propping my feet up on the concrete and metal fire pit, I opened the bag of chips. Each crunch sounded so loud it broke the peace, so I set them to the side and just listened to the rushing river as the currents bubbled over the rocky base and stared up at the partly cloudy night skies.
I’d been so deep into my soul I hadn’t heard anyone approach.
“Do you want a stack of firewood?” The voice came from behind me.
Turning, I spied Jeremy standing there, eclipsing the lamppost at the end of the unit. “I’m good, thanks. I’m not staying out here long.”
He scratched the back of his neck, his fingers brushing the edge of his hoodie. For someone who ran a motel, he didn’t seem at ease with idle conversation, but that awkwardness kind of worked for him. Like a quiet unassuming guy in a rom-com who doesn’t realize he’s the love interest.
There was a long pause and he tucked his chin in. “You played great tonight.”
“Thanks. It went well, and everyone did great. It truly was a team effort.”
If tonight was any indication, the fundraiser was going to be fabulous, although we were only a small part of it. Aside from the jazz band playing two sets of thirty minutes each, there was a huge auction, a treasure chest where identical keys were sold but only one unlocked the chest, and so many others. It promised to be a night of fun.
He shifted his weight, his boots kicking a few pebbles off the path. “You sure about the firewood? It’s a little cool.”
I snorted. “What? Sitting in the dark without a fire doesn’t scream ‘relaxation’ to you?”
His lips quirked, almost a smile. “I was thinking more ‘horror movie opening scene.’ But hey, whatever works for you.”
I laughed, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “Fair enough. But no, this is just...thinking time. Big life decisions and all that.”
As the river rushed along, I mulled over the way my life was like a deck of cards; you never knew what hand was going to be dealt in the next shuffle. Right now I was trying to stack the deck, but like a house of cards, it was always one gentle breeze from falling down. Having Derek admit his true feelings had hurt and had toppled the top level of my metaphorical house of cards, but it was still standing. I was still standing.
“Oh? More trivia knowledge?” His boots kicked at a small gathering of pebbles, pushing them off to the side of the path.
I snickered and tossed my gaze up to the stars, only seeing the crescent moon with a wispy cloud stretching across the bottom. “No, not really. Life things. Some big changes.”
“Well, sorry I can’t help out with that. I struggle with those things myself.” The tone in his voice said as much.
I could run and cower, a typical move I should’ve earned an Oscar for since Jasper was the fourth place I’d set up (and also the longest) since leaving my public life behind, or I could stay and face things head on.
Like it or not, Derek was going to be at the fundraiser, and I needed to prove something to him. But what? Prove that I could stand on my own? That I didn’t need him? That he hadn’t hurt me as much as I had been another disappointment to someone because I wasn’t what they truly needed?
I sighed. They were all reasonable. Scarily reasonable.
“Actually, you can help. With one of them, at least.” I twisted in the seat, facing him as much as I could.
What I needed was a fake boyfriend until Derek vacated the town.
“Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but I need a date.”