Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
The festival cleanup done, and the booth packed away in Tilly’s aunt’s garage, Pleasant Beans slipped back into its normal routine.
Lila noticed the calm and realized it was almost too calm. In her experience working with Grandma and the other’s meant trouble was either brewing or some accident was about to happen involving the espresso machine.
She stood behind the counter, rinsing mugs that didn’t need rinsing.
The steady trickle of water in the sink was the only sound.
Normally she liked more noise: the hum of the espresso machine, Grandma’s chatter, the smell of pies, or now muffins, filling the air.
But today, the shop felt hollow, like a song missing its harmony.
TJ was in the back room loading inventory onto the shelves. He’d been quiet since yesterday. Not cold, exactly, but his words were… what should she call them? Careful. Polite. Which somehow made it worse. Then again, hadn’t she been treating him the same?
Lila stacked the last mug on the drying rack and stared out the window.
Clear Creek’s Main Street was its usual self again.
Quiet, friendly, and utterly ordinary. She had no doubt Old Town was back to normal too.
The Harvest Festival banners still hung across the lampposts, fluttering gently in the breeze.
She kept recalling her time with TJ at the booth, their few moments of dancing looping through her mind. She didn’t want to replay it, but it came anyway. The way he’d stepped closer, the breathless second where she thought he might actually kiss her.
“Cream or sugar?”
Grandma’s voice startled her from behind.
Lila blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Grandma planted her hands on her hips. “For that cup of self-pity you’re brewing. Land sakes, child, you’ve been scrubbing the same mug for ten minutes!”
Lila looked down at the mug and sponge, then hurried to rinse it. “I’m fine!”
“Of course you are.” Grandma poured herself some coffee, unconvinced. “Funny thing about being fine. It usually means you’re not.” She took a sip, grimaced. “Ugh, needs sugar. And no small amount of cream.”
As she fixed her cup, Lila sighed and glanced over her shoulder to make sure TJ was still out of earshot. “He’s leaving, Grandma. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon.”
Grandma raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? And you care because…?”
Lila didn’t answer.
“Mm-hmm,” Grandma murmured. “Did it ever occur to you, child, that maybe he’s just trying to figure out where he fits? Sometimes folks need to wander before they realize what home really means. Or who.”
Lila gave a small, rueful chuckle. “You always make it sound so simple.”
“Oh, it is simple,” Grandma said. “It’s just not easy.”
Footsteps echoed up the hall, and TJ appeared carrying a crate of milk jugs. “Inventory’s done. Do you want half of this up front or all of it?” He set the crate on the counter.
“Half is fine,” Lila said, forcing a brightness she didn’t feel.
He nodded and disappeared back down the hall.
“I’ll get the syrups,” Grandma said, then lowered her voice. “Careful, dear. If you keep pretending you don’t care, one of you is bound to believe it.”
Lila set another mug aside and wiped her hands on a towel. “Maybe that’s for the best. It’s not like he’s going to notice me before he leaves.”
Grandma just hummed and wandered off. Lila was left with the soft hiss of the espresso machine and an ache she couldn’t name.
She knew Grandma meant well, but what she really needed was a good ”Take your eyes off that man, girl!
” lecture. Everyone kept pushing her toward him, and what was the point?
The bell over the door rang, and Lila turned to see Irene, Paddy, and Polly march into the shop. They commandeered a corner table, heads together like generals plotting a siege. When Grandma joined them, Lila decided that was officially a bad sign.
Irene folded her hands on the table, then crooked a finger at her.
Lila walked over. “Yes, Irene? Can I get you some coffee?”
Irene squinted at her. “When are you and Mr. England going to admit you’re sweet on each other?”
Lila gasped. “We’re not! I mean… there’s nothing to…”
“Oh, nonsense,” Paddy said, waving her off. “The whole town saw the two of ye dancing at yer booth!”
“That wasn’t dancing. That was… tripping politely. In my case anyway. I’ve got two left feet.”
Polly grinned. “I heard it was his way of showing he holds you in great regard.”
“Great regard,” Paddy echoed. “Anyone can see he’s sweet on the lass.”
Lila groaned. “He’s leaving, you guys. He’s got work somewhere else, maybe even New Zealand.”
Four pairs of eyebrows shot up in unison.
“Well,” Grandma said. “That’s a long way to go for coffee.”
“Exactly!” Lila crossed her arms. “So let’s not forget that, shall we?”
Polly, Irene, and Grandma exchanged that silent, telepathic look only lifelong friends could manage. Irene cleared her throat. “You could always write to each other.”
“Yeah,” Grandma agreed. “Unless, of course, he stays here for some reason.” She eyed Lila up and down and winked.
Paddy leaned forward. “The point is, lass, sometimes men need a little reminding of what they’d miss if they left.”
Lila rubbed her face. “And what exactly am I supposed to do? Tie a note to his coffee cup?”
“Not a bad idea,” Polly chimed.
Lila stared at them, torn between laughing and crying. “You’re all impossible.”
Grandma patted her hand. “Yes, but we’re usually right. We’ve done this sort of thing before.”
Before Lila could ask what sort of thing, the bell jingled again as new customers came in. She gratefully escaped behind the counter to take their orders and make their drinks.
From across the room, she could still hear the soft clucking of her self-appointed matchmakers.
She tried to ignore them, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. They might be impossible, but maybe they were right.
TJ shifted the crate of half-and-half against his hip as he stepped back inside.
He’d been helping the delivery driver unload, and the cold air from the back door followed him, mingling with the warm scent of roasted beans and cinnamon.
Irene and the others must’ve arrived and dropped off more goodies, or maybe he’d only just noticed the smell.
He was headed up front when Lila’s voice caught him off guard.
“I just don’t see the point in getting attached,” she was saying to Grandma, her back to him. Her voice was low but edged with frustration. “He’s leaving, Grandma. I’ve told you this a thousand times. Will you stop badgering me? Besides, why would he stay here?”
TJ froze, then slowly backed down the hall so as not to disturb them.
“You might ask him that yourself, child, instead of deciding for him,” Grandma said gently.
“There’s no need,” Lila sighed. “He’s already made up his mind.”
The words landed like a punch to the gut. So that was it. Lila decided he was temporary, just passing through.
He swallowed hard and backed all the way to the storeroom, setting the crate on a shelf before rubbing the back of his neck. Okay, he deserved that. He was temporary. Still, hearing it aloud hurt more than he wanted to admit. But it also meant Lila had feelings for him… didn’t it?
He forced himself forward and peeked into the hall just as both women turned toward him.
“Well, there you are,” Grandma said brightly. “About time that truck got unloaded.” She acted as if she hadn’t just dropped a line of pure wisdom. “We were just talking about you.”
“Were you?” TJ’s eyebrows shot up. “Hopefully all good things.”
“Of course,” Grandma said, far too innocently.
Lila went beet-red. “I was just saying it’s been nice working with you these past few days.”
“Likewise.” He kept his tone casual, the same tone he used when something cut deeper than it should. “I’ll put the creamers in the fridge if you’d like.”
“Sure,” she said, stepping aside.
He returned to the storeroom, grabbed the crate, and came back up front. When he opened the refrigerator, the cool air was a relief. Though it didn’t do much to settle the heaviness in his chest. He leaned one hand against a shelf, staring at the rows of milk and creamer.
He’d told himself not to get too close. He was here to visit, to help out. But somewhere between the laughter, mishaps with the old folks, long shifts that turned into something more, and that almost-dance, he’d let himself forget.
Hearing Lila say, he’s leaving anyway, made it real.
He straightened, closed the fridge, and grabbed his jacket.
“I guess I’ll be going,” he said.
Lila looked up, eyes wide. “Oh, all right.” She glanced at her watch. “Wow, I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“I need to spend some time with the family while I’m here,” he said.
She nodded, forcing a smile. “You don’t have to keep coming in like this and volunteering. We can handle it.”
“I know you can,” he said. “But I like working here with you. It’s fun. Besides, you never know when you’ll need a cleanup on aisle fifteen.”
She giggled. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Yeah, I try.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Is there any pie left? I can take some home for my dad.”
“Oh, sure.” She pulled a slice from the pastry case, wrapped it, and handed it over. “Just bring back the plate.”
“Sure, no problem. I’m available tomorrow,” he said.
“No, TJ, just bring back the plate. That’s fine.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” He tried for a smile, but she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. His gut twisted. He wanted her to look at him, really look, and say how she felt. But maybe he’d misheard and misread everything.
“Okay, then,” he said quietly. “I’ll get out of your way.”
He stepped outside into the mild autumn breeze and let out a long, slow breath. For the first time since he’d come home, Clear Creek didn’t feel much like home at all.
He climbed into his rental car and started through town. Main Street curved into Old Town before he realized where he was headed. He parked in front of the museum, not even sure why. He just needed to walk, to clear his head.
He strolled past the old hotel, crossed the street, then looped back again until he found himself in front of the museum doors. Well why not?
Inside, a teenage girl in a calico dress smiled brightly. “Hi! Would you like a tour? Or you can do a self-tour. We ask for a five-dollar donation either way. You really ought to have the guided one,” she added.
“Uh, no,” he said, glancing around. “Wow, they wallpapered the place. Looks nice.”
“Yeah, that was a few years ago,” she chirped.
He handed her a five. “Self-tour’s fine.”
Her face fell slightly as she took it. “All right. If you have any questions, I’m right here.”
He nodded and wandered into what used to be the Wallers’ parlor. He couldn’t help but grin at the old-fashioned furniture and framed photographs as he thought of Grandma and Doc. People here really did recycle their ancestors’ names.
He drifted to a wall of black-and-white portraits, not paying much attention, until one caught his eye.
It was a group shot from the 1890s, townsfolk standing on Dunnigan’s porch. He leaned closer.
“That… looks just like Irene,” he muttered. His gaze shifted. “And that’s Grandma. And Doc. Holy cow, there’s Paddy, Mary, Cyrus, Polly…”
He blinked hard. “No way.”
He squinted again. Maybe it was just genetics. Families had look-alikes; it happened. That had to be it. Still, the resemblance sent a chill skittering up his arms.
“Wow,” he whispered. “That’s freaky.”
The teenage girl reappeared beside him. “Are you sure you don’t want a guided tour?”
He eyed her and shook his head. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” He left a few minutes later, shaking his head the whole way to the car. The girl probably thought he was nuts.