Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
The morning air was crisp and golden, the kind of cool that made you grateful for a warm drink in your hands and a light jacket over your shoulders.
Sunlight filtered through the amber and russet leaves of the trees lining the square, their branches casting dappled shadows on the stone paths. Beneath them, the ground was a soft quilt of color. The scents of cinnamon, baked apples and woodsmoke floated gently on the breeze, autumn in full bloom.
John strolled into the square just after eight, the early light making the vendor tents and decorative bunting look like something straight off of a postcard.
The coffee cart was already set up, nestled beside the fountain that anchored Good Hope’s downtown. From a business standpoint, it was a perfect location—close to local shops, framed by vendor booths and guaranteed to catch traffic from all angles.
But John wasn’t thinking about foot traffic.
He was thinking about her.
There’d been moments between them this week. Not just flirtation, though there’d been some of that, too. But something steadier. Quieter. Like the hum beneath a melody.
Connection.
He was certain she’d felt it, too.
Today, well, would be about espresso and caramel syrup and laughter under crisp skies. About working side by side with Zoe in a setting that was casual, chaotic and maybe the best kind of unpredictable.
The square was still quiet. Mostly vendors unloading tables and arranging displays. The festival didn’t officially kick off until ten, but Zoe had warned him that caffeine seekers would start showing up early.
He expected to find her at the cart, checking inventory or lining up pastry bags.
She wasn’t there.
He scanned the green and spotted her.
She stood near the fountain, arms loosely folded, head tilted back as she studied the statue at its center. The morning breeze toyed with her hair, and in the golden light, the strands shimmered like spun gold.
He took a step closer.
Then another.
When he was within earshot, he couldn’t resist calling out, “Did you know them?”
Zoe startled slightly but relaxed the moment she saw him.
“Sorry,” he said, holding up a hand. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
She turned back to the statue—a trio of women carved in bronze, standing shoulder to shoulder, laughter frozen in metal.
“I did know them,” she said with a soft smile.
“The one in the middle is Gladys Bertholf. She threw herself a hundredth birthday bash and danced through most of it. Total legend. That’s Katherine Spencer on the left and Ruby Rakes on the right.
If you saw one, the others were never far behind. They were a package deal.”
There was affection in her voice. Something wistful, too.
“You liked them,” John said, though he didn’t need confirmation.
“I did. Everyone did. They were a trio of sass and heart, the kind of women who believed everyone deserved love, and they weren’t afraid to meddle to make it happen.”
Zoe let out a quiet sigh, then nodded toward the fountain. “Legend has it, if you close your eyes, make a wish and toss in a coin, it’ll come true.”
John stepped closer and peered into the water. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of coins glittered at the bottom like sunken treasure.
“Looks like a lot of people are willing to believe in that.”
Zoe smiled, and the whole morning seemed to brighten.
“They are. But even the skeptics throw a coin for the experience. The town collects the money and donates it to help families in need. Either way—”
“It’s a win-win,” he finished, already reaching into his pocket. He offered her a coin, palm open, and kept a coin for himself. “Wish granted or wish denied, someone benefits.”
She took the coin, looked at it and then back at him, one brow arched. “You planning to tell me your wish?”
He smiled. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”
Zoe stood with the coin resting in her palm, its smooth, cool surface catching the light.
She knew she was overthinking it.
She could just wish for the coffee cart to break a single-day sales record and call it good. Safe. Smart. Focused.
But something about the way the three bronze women looked down at her—equal parts serene and mischievous—gave her pause.
Her gaze lifted, tracing the gentle curve of Gladys’s cheek, the sweet smile on Ruby’s lips and the quiet confidence etched into Katherine’s expression.
They weren’t just decorative. They stood for something.
Zoe’s fingers tightened around the coin.
She thought back to her engagement with Erik, the whirlwind courtship, the swept-away feeling, how fast everything had happened.
At the time, she’d called it fate. That kind of heady, movie-magic love.
But now, almost a year later, with the dust long settled, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d simply been swept up in his charm. His confidence. The illusion of forever.
She’d believed—wholeheartedly—that he was the one. And she was the one for him.
And then, just like that, she wasn’t. She’d been left standing there, dress fitted, heart cracked wide open.
Funny, though.
She still thought of him now and then, but she didn’t miss him. Not really.
Gladys would’ve said that was a sign. That her heart had known what her head hadn’t. That Erik was never it—and that she was finally ready to move on.
The realization came with a quiet sense of peace.
Not sadness. Not longing.
Just…clarity.
“Zoe.”
John’s voice cut through the stillness, warm and grounding.
She turned to find him watching her, a coin balanced between his fingers, one brow raised in question.
“Ready?” he asked.
She drew in a breath.
A fresh start.
To be fully present. Fully.
To be exactly where she was meant to be, with the people she was meant to share it with.
That was her wish.
Zoe smiled, a quiet warmth unfurling in her chest. “Ready.”
Together, they tossed their coins into the fountain, the soft plinks echoing through the crisp morning air as ripples spread across the surface.
Zoe looked up—
And swore she saw Gladys wink.
As they turned back toward the coffee cart, Zoe found herself walking a little slower. The clink of the coins had faded, but something about the moment lingered. Maybe it was the warmth in John’s smile, or the way the breeze carried the scent of cinnamon.
Or maybe it was the feeling that, despite everything, this day was going to be exactly what she didn’t know she needed.
By nine, the coffee cart had hit its rhythm—and so had John.
Zoe was in her element—warm, approachable, quick with a laugh. She greeted customers like old friends, offering recommendations with that effortless charm that was becoming unmistakably her. She didn’t just take orders—she connected.
John? He made drinks.
With every flat white and caramel latte, his confidence grew. Then ten o’clock hit, the festival officially opened, and the line ballooned in minutes.
Gone was the slow, rhythmic pace. John fell into a blur of steaming milk, espresso pulls and names scrawled on cardboard cups. He reminded himself, repeatedly, that if a teenager could handle this, so could he.
It wasn’t until nearly two that the rush thinned enough for him to glance up and realize he hadn’t spoken to Zoe in over an hour.
The brief lull felt like a breath of oxygen.
He handed off a flat white to the last person in line, a serene-looking woman with wild curls and an air of quiet confidence.
“Here you go, Izzie,” he said, offering the cup. “Enjoy.”
She accepted it with a kind smile. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you at the Grind before.”
“New to Good Hope,” he replied, savoring the chance to talk at a normal pace. “I’m consulting with Ryder and Zoe for the next couple of months.”
Her eyes sparked with interest. “That explains the unfamiliar face. Hopefully, we’ll have time to chat again.”
Before he could respond, a voice called out nearby. “Izzie.”
She gave a mischievous grin. “Oops. Theo’s been talking with a patient, so I slipped away to satisfy a craving.”
With a wink and a flutter of fingers, she disappeared into the crowd.
“Bye, Izzie,” Zoe called out.
John raised an eyebrow at Zoe. “Friend of yours?”
“Friend of my parents. That’s Izzie Holbrook,” Zoe replied, passing off a napkin. “She’s a well-known artist. Her husband’s a family doc here in town. Their daughter is in my brother’s class.”
John chuckled. “Everyone here’s connected.”
Zoe narrowed her eyes playfully. “What’s that tone?”
He shrugged. “Just…this town reminds me of Marquette. The community, the pace. How no one’s a stranger for long.”
“Did you like it there?” she asked, brushing away a fly.
“At first, no. I couldn’t wait to leave. I wanted cities, change and new people. New everything.”
“Did the chase live up to the dream?”
“For a while,” he said honestly, his gaze distant. “I traveled a lot—cities, countries. But eventually, it all started to feel the same. Impersonal. Temporary. I’d walk down a street and realize…no one knew my name.”
“I felt that way in Austin sometimes,” Zoe said quietly.
He glanced at her. “Would you have stayed if you and Erik had gotten married?”
The question slipped out—and instantly, he regretted it.
Her expression didn’t change much, but the shift was unmistakable. A soft closing off.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to ask that. I heard you—about staying focused on now. Won’t happen again.”
“It’s okay.” Her voice was calm, practiced. “We had planned to stay in Austin. For a while, anyway. It would’ve depended on his next opportunity…”
“And yours,” he said gently.
She gave a small smile. “And mine.”
But the light in her eyes dimmed, and John didn’t need the words to know her opportunities would’ve come second.
He hated that. The idea made something in him tighten.
“What about now?” he asked. “If you moved again, would you choose a place like this? Or go back to a big city?”
She tilted her head. “Would you make me a vanilla latte?”
He blinked. “That’s a ‘no comment’?”
“More like a detour.”
She smiled, but he heard what she wasn’t saying.
Still, he turned to the machine, aware of her eyes following him.
“People say Good Hope has a boomerang effect,” she said.
He paused. “Boomerang?”
“You leave, but eventually…it pulls you back. You don’t even realize it until you’re unpacking.”
He finished the latte with a neat little heart and handed it over. “You believe that?”
“I’ve seen it happen too many times not to.” She sipped. “I didn’t love my job at the Bayshore…but I’ve enjoyed being back. Now I’m finding I enjoy the coffee business.”
He nodded, but his thoughts had drifted from business entirely.
Sunlight. Laughter in the distance. Festival sounds and smells all around.
And Zoe beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He wanted to leave the cart. Walk with her. Share a plate of fried cheese curds. Laugh too hard. Steal a bite of her funnel cake.
Share cotton candy…and kiss the sugar from her lips.
“John. Are you okay?”
Zoe’s voice cut through the haze of cinnamon and sugar and sun-warmed air, anchoring him. He blinked, coming back to the moment like someone surfacing from a dream.
“What?” he asked, voice a little rougher than usual.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “You had the strangest look on your face. Like you were solving a complex math problem. Or maybe…plotting a murder?”
A slow grin tugged at his lips. “Definitely the first one,” he said, deadpan.
She laughed, a silvery sound that made something in his chest loosen. It was ridiculous how much he liked her laugh. It was like light through tree branches—warm and unexpected, a little uneven and entirely disarming.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, still smiling. “Anyway,” she said, her voice softening just enough to turn his attention wholly to her. “I have a question.”
“Ask away.”
“Our replacements should be here soon. Once they arrive…how would you feel about checking out the vendors? Meet some people in the community. Maybe grab something to eat?”
His grin came fast. “Like a burger or a corn dog?”
She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug, playing it cool. “Sure.”
He tilted his head. “And dessert? Would you split some cotton candy with me?”
Her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile too much. “I like cotton candy,” she replied with mock formality.
“So…is that a yes?”
This time, she didn’t hold back. Her eyes sparkled, lips curving with something that felt like both promise and possibility.
“That’s a yes.”