Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Cash
I sidestep a chalkboard sign advertising Sunday drink specials and peer through the front windows of Serendipi-Tea. At the same time, a flock of ladies emerges clutching toddlers and to-go cups. I hold the door open as they clamor out in a flurry of smiles and thank-yous. I like that about this town.
It’s a welcome change from places where people don’t make eye contact.
The thing is, I’m a sucker for chivalry, so I always hold doors anyway. And once one person comes through, it’s hard to stem the tide. Letting go of the door feels like cutting someone off. When a place is really busy, I’ve been known to stand in an entryway for a full minute.
“You’re early,” Sandra Fulsome calls out, coming toward me up the sidewalk. She’s wearing a sundress and sandals. I’ve never seen her in anything but scrubs.
Sandra’s a physician’s assistant for the busiest orthopedic surgeons at Springs Memorial. Dr. Arnold, more specifically. She’s already a fan of my company’s surgical systems, but I want her to become a fan of me now .
Specifically.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before.” Her grin is bright. “Doesn’t it look great?”
I smile back. “Absolutely.”
A bell jangles as we head inside. The shop is warm and sun-drenched. Every spot that isn’t inhabited by furniture or floor lamps has some kind of greenery. I’m hit with the same kind of comfortable vibe I get in the courtyard at The Serendipity. I wish I were there now, but I promised the hospital staff treats today.
When Sandra heard I’d been planning to grab a bunch of donuts at Spring Foods, she insisted on meeting me here instead. And if we end up discussing Powell’s new custom screwdriver while she offers advice on baked goods, well.
That’s fine by me.
Unlike a lot of the staff at Springs Memorial, Sandra’s a lifelong resident of Serendipity Springs, so I’m not surprised when she greets everyone here by name. Apparently, I showed up to Serendipi-Tea with everybody’s best friend.
Cullen calls people like Sandra buddy magnets, and he should know. He’s a buddy magnet too. Wherever he goes, he collects contact information like souvenirs. But he doesn’t just exchange numbers. He actually follows up, turning strangers into friends. To be clear, he’s not thinking about what he can gain from the introductions. My brother is genuinely interested in others. He cares about everyone.
I do too, or I wouldn’t work as hard as I do to ensure good outcomes in the OR. But those patients are—for the most part—anonymous to me. They enter my life for the length of a surgery, and I can generally tell by the time they’re doing final X-rays if the procedure’s been a success. Then I move on to the next case. No muss or fuss. No commitment.
Just the way I like it.
Sandra drags me by the elbow over to a table in the middle of the shop and introduces me to three women in yoga pants and ponytails. “Cash works at Springs Memorial,” she informs them. “And he’s never even been to Serendipi-Tea.”
“Then you have to try their lavender latte,” the blonde named Beth gushes. “It’s the best.” She’s nibbling a bagel. Beth Bagel. This is how I remember people’s names. The brunette next to Beth confirms her latte is, in fact, the best . She’s Leanna. She’s got lipstick on her teeth. Leanna Lipstick.
See?
Totally works.
Woman Number Three—Eloise—waves a dismissive hand. “You’re both wrong. The wildflower coffee lemonade is much better.” She looks up at me and bats her eyelashes. They’re so long, they practically touch her forehead.
Eloise Eyelash.
“I’m not much of a coffee guy,” I say, and the group cracks up like what I said was hilarious.
“Cash was going to bring donuts to the hospital today,” Sandra blurts. “Obviously I had to intervene.”
“Donuts are a no.” Beth wrinkles her nose. “Too many trans fats.”
Leanna rolls her eyes. “Do you know how many carbs are in that bagel?”
“We’re talking about Cash now,” Eloise chimes in, her gaze still focused on me. “I don't think I’ve seen you around town before.”
Sandra reaches for my elbow again. “That’s because he just moved here two months ago,” she explains. “He lives at The Serendipity.”
“Really?” Leanna’s lip quirks. “You have heard all the stories about that place, right? About how the building is … magic?”
I rub a hand along the back of my neck. Sure, I’ve heard the stories, but I’m not here to discuss rumors with Leanna Lipstick. I just want to score some points with Sandra, grab a few boxes of whatever she recommends, and get to the hospital.
Back to my comfort zone.
“The fountain in the courtyard is supposed to have special powers,” Eloise purrs. “Because of the water.”
“Which is ludicrous,” Beth chimes in.
“But don’t you think it’s strange how many people fall in love there?” Leanna asks.
Man. I should’ve called her Leanna Question Mark. But then I would’ve lost the alliteration.
“I think the legends are romantic,” Eloise murmurs. Her gaze drops to my bare ring finger. “Do you feel any magic there, Cash?”
Beth leans over the table and lowers her voice. “If living at The Serendipity helped people find love, Nori Sinclair would have someone by now.”
“You’re right.” Eloise offers up an exaggerated sigh. “That girl has lived there for practically ever.”
“And she’s definitely not lucky,” Beth whispers.
Leanna shrugs. “Is it possible the magic just doesn’t work for her?”
“She does have an unusual backstory,” Eloise says, and everyone nods.
Wait.
Nori has some kind of unusual, unlucky backstory?
A flicker of curiosity flares behind my ribs as Sandra glances toward the far side of the shop. “Nori’s here now,” she whispers. “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about her.” Her face crinkles with sympathy.
I follow Sandra’s gaze to a couch tucked into the far corner. Nori’s over there wearing a Serendipi-Tea apron, so that’s one mystery solved. She must work here. She’s with her friends from the building—the one with the black hair and the redhead. When Nori glances over and spots me, her eyes go wide. So I look away. Fast.
But I don’t want to look away.
Oh, man. I sure hope I’m not turning into one of those guys who just loves the chase. Either way, I won’t be chasing Nori Sinclair. Regardless of her unusual, unlucky backstory.
“Well, it was nice to meet you ladies …” I splay my hands. “But there are a bunch of hungry staff at the hospital waiting for me to feed them trans fats and carbs.”
The women burst into laughter again, even though I still haven’t said anything all that funny.
Maybe they feel bad for talking about Nori. Personally, I feel bad for wanting to know more about her.
So I refuse to look in her direction again. I’m worried curiosity will be written all over my face. Instead, I say goodbye to the yoga posse and excuse myself to head to the barista counter. Sandra says she’ll be right there to help me order. In the meantime, I study the enormous chalkboard menu.
See?
Still not looking at Nori.
The drinks and food items are all listed in a funky, bohemian font, with flowers and scrollwork weaving between the descriptions and the prices. There’s a pickup station on one end of the bar, and the cashier takes orders at the other. In between are cases of food: baked goods, gourmet sandwiches, baskets of fruit, juices, and water bottles.
“Aren’t those cookies gorgeous?” Sandra strolls up beside me. “They’re made by someone else who lives in your building. Her name’s Willa. Willa Smith, from Serendipitous Sweets. She’s Archer Gaines’s girlfriend. He owns the building. ”
“I’ve met Archer,” I say. “He’s a good guy. But I don’t know Willa yet.”
“Well, her cookies are to die for. Also, the breakfast sandwiches here are the stuff of legends. But my personal faves are the cream cheese croissants and the chocolate chip scones. Everyone raves about the cinnamon scones, but trust me. The chocolate chip rules.”
“Maybe I should just have them fill up a bunch of boxes with a little of everything. Lots of mouths to feed at the hospital, and I aim to please.”
Sandra’s mouth slips sideways. “Well, don’t worry too much about your reputation there. The scuttlebutt at Springs Memorial is that no one has a better work ethic than you do.”
“Scuttlebutt?”
“ So much scuttlebutt,” she emphasizes.
I cough out a laugh.
“What?” She shrugs. “Scuttlebutt is a word.”
“Oh, I know it is.” I’m pretty sure my grandpa used to say it, but I’m not going to tell Sandra that. “I’ve just never imagined myself being the source of …”
“So much butt?” Her lip twitches.
“ Any butt.”
A jingle at the entrance draws Sandra’s attention to the front of the shop, and she squeals. “Oooh! Ian is here!"
“Nice.” I have no idea who Ian is.
“I’m just going to run over and say hi,” Sandra chirps, touching my elbow again. “Will you be okay without me?”
I bob my head. “You told me about this place, met me here, and gave me your personal recommendations. I think I’m all set.”
All I want to do is buy a bunch of baked goods and get out of this gossip mill as soon as possible. But even as I think that, a slideshow of Nori assembles in my brain .
Two pink cheeks. One small smile. A set of squared shoulders.
And before I can stop the impulse, my gaze drifts back to the couch in the corner.
The redhead’s still there, sipping a pink frothy drink. The other one’s hugging her goodbye.
But Nori’s nowhere to be found.
What’s your backstory, Eleanor?