5. Juno
5
Juno
Juno polished the already gleaming espresso machine, letting the familiar motion center her. The late afternoon rush would hit soon, and she needed to get her head back in the game. Three hours. She'd lost three hours of prime business time playing Florence Nightingale to a man who clearly had other options for care.
Can't right now, babe.
She set the cleaning cloth aside and did a final check of her prep station, making certain canisters were stocked, supplies were accessible, and the glass display case was full. Having things primed and ready at all times helped her feel in control, even when everything else in her life felt like borderline chaos.
"We've had so many compliments on the lavender honey latte today," Poppy said as she pulled espresso shots for an order. Juno could tell her barista was trying to bolster her with her encouraging words. It was one of the things she really appreciated about Poppy; the girl always saw the bright side of things. "Did you change something in the recipe?"
"No changes." Juno eyed glass syrup dispenser. There was less than a third of the bottle left, and that was even with the double batch she'd made that morning. "Looks like we might run out again."
Before she could head back to the kitchen, Poppy piped up again. "Everyone's talking about what happened this morning." Her voice held barely contained curiosity. "Is Alex okay? It was so brave, what he did. Like something right out of a movie," she gushed.
Juno wanted to shake the young woman by the shoulders and tell her to take off her Alex-colored glasses. "He'll be fine," she said with finality. She wasn't going to spend another moment thinking about him. "How are we doing on scones? Will we have enough for this evening, or do I need to make more?"
"We should be fine," she said, peering quickly into the glass case. "We're out of the lemon blueberry ones, but we've got several of the rest of the flavors." Poppy lingered, clearly hoping for more details. "So I heard his foot was broken and that he's in a cast. Maybe he'll let me sign it, you think? And someone also told me that he might have to get skin grafts for his road rash." She looked distraught, her hand pressed to her chest.
Juno sighed and turned to eye the young barista. Might as well give the girl the correct information before the gossip-mongers started making more out of things than what they were. "Poppy, Alex is fine. His ankle, not his foot, is sprained, not broken. He has crutches to use for the first few days until the swelling goes down a little, and he has a walking boot so that when he's comfortable putting weight on it, he can get rid of the crutches. He is not, " she said sternly, "getting skin grafts for his road rash. I don't know who started that rumor, but you can stop spreading it immediately. His back is going to hurt and get gross and scabby before it heals up, so you'll probably get to see him wandering around without a shirt, but that's nothing new."
"Oh, well, all of that is good, right?" Poppy didn't exactly look apologetic, and Juno thought maybe the girl knew her a little too well. Maybe, just maybe, Poppy had purposely laid it on thick just to get Juno to spill the real details. The little minx.
"That's really good, yes. If the guy had to take a hit for being a hero, then it's best case scenario, all things considered."
Poppy nodded, her eyes wide and innocent. "I bet he could use some meals. Do you think I—we should organize a meal schedule for him?"
Juno was shaking her head before Poppy finished asking the question, but not because she didn't think Alex needed help. It was because Poppy needed to stay clear of the man. There was nothing more endearing than a big, attractive man in need, and after seeing the pitiful contents of his kitchen – frozen packaged foods, lunch meat that had more ingredients than a chemistry lab, and a cupboard full of dorm room staples like ramen and peanut butter and pancake mix – he was inarguably in great need of help. The man ate like a college student and Juno had to resist the urge to purge his kitchen and replace everything with real food.
She could not, in good conscience, let her young barista fall into that kind of a snare. She put her hand on Poppy's shoulder. "Listen. I spoke to Ward when he came to get the truck. Hazel and Penny are going to put together a bunch of healthy easy meals for him. I will contribute sandwiches for a couple of days, and if you'd like to be the one to make them for him, that would be great."
Poppy's eyes lit up. "Okay. I can deliver them, too."
Juno held up a hand to stop her. "Not necessary. Ward is going to pick them up from here on his way to check on him over the next few days," she explained. "Alex is going to be a little grumpy for the first day or two as he gets used to his limitations. Be considerate and put yourself in his position. Would you want visitors if you couldn't take a shower or change your clothes?"
Poppy actually looked like she was seriously considering it, then she twitched her shoulders and grinned. "I could help him shower and change his clothes."
Juno snatched the towel from the counter and playfully swatted it at Poppy. "You are depraved. Now get back to work. You can make his sandwich tomorrow. Roast beef and roasted pepper on sourdough hoagie with the sundried tomato mayo."
"And provolone, right?"
Juno chuckled and nodded. The girl paid attention, and Juno knew it wasn't just to Alex's orders. Poppy was great with all of their customers. She knew people by name, remembered their drinks of choice, was great at suggestions when they didn't know what they wanted, and was adept at upselling a sweet treat with almost every order. Granted, it was hard to say no to her pretty smiling face, but the girl was as genuine as they came, and people liked her for good reason.
"The couple at Table 4 keep looking over here," Juno added with a thrust of her chin in their direction. "Are they waiting for an order?"
"Oh!" Poppy grabbed two tall plastic cups and scooped ice into both. "Yes. Oops. Two cappuccinos for Table 4d coming right up."
The bell above the door chimed and Claire swept in, making a beeline for the counter.
"Hey girl," Juno greeted her. "What are you doing back in here?" Claire rarely made an appearance at Juno's in the afternoons. Business at the bookstore picked up significantly once the day had warmed up enough to send all but the most committed sun-worshippers indoors for a reprieve.
"Can't a girl pay her friend a visit?" Claire asked coyly.
Juno cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at her. Here fishing for an Alex update, Juno was certain. She evaded the question. "And why aren't you sweating in that outfit?" Juno pointed her finger up and down at the gorgeous handmade outfit. Claire sewed all her own costumes. "You're not even dewy."
Claire fluffed her skirts around her knees, layers of crinoline peeking out below the checkered hem of her skirt. "I'm aerated," she quipped.
"You could probably fit one of those little desktop air conditioners under there," Juno teased.
"Now there's an idea." Claire tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I wonder if I could rig up some kind of harness to wear under all of this. Like a Steampunk chastity belt, but instead of a heavy duty lock and key mechanism, a bracket to attach a rechargeable air conditioner. Just plug in and recharge whenever I'm behind the counter."
"You'd have to be careful of the blades, though." Juno went along for the ride, half-believing that Claire was actually contemplating the idea.
"Are you two actually talking about rigging up an air conditioner to wear under a skirt?" Poppy asked, circling around the end of the counter with a tray full of used dishes and trash. "Am I hearing this right?"
Claire nodded, her expression earnest. "Sounds like a great idea, doesn't it?"
Poppy laughed. "You two are wild," she said as she backed through the swinging half-door that led into the kitchen. "I want to be you when I grow up."
Juno shot Claire a lifted brow. "Did she just call us grown-ups?"
"Speaking of grown-ups," her friend segued efficiently. "Give me the scoop on Alex."
Juno let out a sharp "Ha!" then grabbed a cup and saucer and poured a cup of her house roast for Claire. She set it in front of her, followed by a small pitcher of heavy cream, and then pulled out the bar stool they kept shoved under the counter for just such occasions as this. "That man will never grow up."
Eight Years Earlier…
She stood on the sidewalk, hands on her hips, taking in the storefront before her. The "For Sale" sign was coming down today. Juno could hardly believe it—the little coffee shop where she'd worked as a teenager was now hers. Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy had practically given it away, happy to retire and thrilled that someone who'd once worked for them wanted to revive the struggling business.
"You sure about this, honey?" Mr. Bellamy had asked that morning at the bank when she signed the papers. "Things have changed since that resort went up across the way. Folks have gotten a little highfalutin about their coffee, now that the North Shore folk have brought in their artisanal java boutiques, and our little coffee shop on this side of the lake is hardly holding its own." He was a nice man, but she could hear the bitter note under his carefully worded observation.
Little did Mr. Bellamy know that Juno planned to bring her own artisanal java boutique to the south shore, the heart of the small town of Autumn Lake, but she'd never forget who her customers were. She wanted to make her coffee shop a place where the locals hung out, where people came because it was comfortable and friendly and warm and all the things that made it inviting and inclusive.
This shop was exactly what Juno needed—a place with roots, with history. Her history. A place where she could plant herself and grow something lasting.
The sign would be the first thing to go. Faded and outdated, just like the rest of the place. The windows needed washing and one of them sported a spiderweb crack in the corner, so that would have to be replaced as soon as possible. The interior needed a complete overhaul.
But underneath all that, she could see what it could become—what she could make it.
"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit." The voice hit her like a physical blow. Deep, familiar, the edges curling with humor. She turned slowly, heart hammering against her ribs.
Alex Frampton stood on the sidewalk just a few feet away, looking like every dream and nightmare she'd had since leaving Autumn Lake almost a decade ago. Broader shoulders, stubbled jaw, same devastating smile. One he knew how to use to his advantage.
"Juniper Bernice Thomas. Never thought I'd see your pretty face again. At least not here in little old Autumn Lake."
Words stuck in her throat. She'd rehearsed this moment in her head a thousand times—cool, composed, indifferent. Instead, she felt sixteen again, breathless and undone by his mere presence.
"Alex," she managed finally. "You're still here."
"I never left," he said, emphasizing the 'I' as if to drive home which of them had been the one to run. But he still smiled, and it seemed genuine, so she wasn't sure if it was a rebuke or just a statement of fact. He gestured at the building. "What's all this?"
"I bought it," she blurted out, unable to completely hide the pride in her tone. "I'm going to reopen the coffee shop."
Something flashed in his eyes—surprise, maybe even admiration. "No kidding? That's... that's great, June-bug."
The old nickname slipped between them, intimate and dangerous. His gaze swept over her, and she felt the heat of it like a physical touch. For a moment, the years fell away, and she remembered how it felt to be the center of his universe.
"You know," he drawled, his eyes traveling back to the store front. He narrowed them in speculation. "I could help," he said, gesturing at the building. "With the renovations. I'm with J the woman reminded Juno of a cat, the way she practically curled into his side as he spoke. She didn't even seem to notice Alex's irony at her expense.
"You two obviously have some place to be," she interjected, her stomach tight. "And I need to get to work." She made a shooing gesture. "Off with you, now."
Alex shot her an apologetic shrug. "Welcome home. I'll stop by later, maybe we can catch up properly."
"I'm going to be pretty busy for a while," she said with a shake of her head. "And it looks like you are, too."
Ugh. Why had she dropped that last line? The last thing she wanted was for him to think she cared what he did or who with.
Alex grinned. "Yeah, well, I have a well-stocked toolbelt, and I know where you work, June-bug."
Her expression hardened. "Please don't call me that. I'm Juno to my friends. Or you can call me Juniper." To Anastacia, she said, "Nice to meet you, Anastacia. I hope you enjoy your summer here in Autumn Lake."
"Oh, I will," Anastacia cooed, her simpering making Juno clench her jaw in distaste. Then she pushed open the door to her shop, glad she'd already unlocked it, and ducked inside the shadowy interior.
With her back to the cool glass door, Juno felt something harden inside her. The whispers she'd heard around town were true. Alex Frampton had become the summer entertainment for bored vacation women—charming, available, no strings attached.
At least now she knew. Whatever they'd had was long gone, just like the girl she'd been. She was here to build a future, not revisit the past.
And she didn't need Alex Frampton's help to do it.
Present Day…
"Earth to Juno." Claire was waving a hand in front of her face. "Where'd you go just now?"
Juno blinked, the memory fading. "Nowhere important."
Claire's eyes softened with understanding. "So tell me how Alex is doing. I heard he's got a broken—"
"He didn't break anything," Juno snipped, cutting her off, followed by a flood of remorse. "Sorry. The gossip in this town is alive and well."
Claire nodded slowly. "It is, yes. But I don't think it's malicious, Juno. People just want to know that their hero is okay."
Their hero. What she wouldn't give to be able to call Alex Frampton her hero.
To be able to call anyone her hero.
Nope. She was her own hero. Always had been. Always would be. She'd learned the hard way a few too many times that depending on anyone but herself was a loser's game.
"Yeah. You're right." She held up the coffee carafe to offer Claire a refill, but her friend shook her head.
"He's all right, then? He didn't say anything to upset you, Juno?"
Juno shook her head. "Of course not. He's a big lug, but he's not intentionally cruel." Then she filled Claire in on the details of Alex's injuries and recovery expectations. "If you want to contribute to meals or anything, give Penny a call. Ward said she and Hazel are going to put together a little meal schedule for the next few days."
Later that night, Juno stood at her upstairs apartment window, watching the last customers leave the shops along Camellia Court. The day's events replayed in her mind, but it was that single word— babe —that kept echoing.
Her father had called every woman he knew "babe" too. And her mother had never seemed to mind. Granted, she'd usually been pretty out of it by the time he came home late smelling of cheap perfume and cheaper whiskey. But Juno noticed. She noticed all of it. The pills he brought home with him to tuck into her mother's hand. The crumpled cash falling out of his pockets on good days, the emptiness of his splayed wallet on bad days. The bruises on the inside of her mother's wrists that could only be seen days after they were inflicted. The empty liquor bottles clinking too loudly in the trash bags that Juno snuck out to the neighbor's trash can well after midnight since the trash collector always came early for pickup, and she couldn't risk missing it.
She didn't miss the ramping up of tension, the air practically sizzling with it, in the days before things came to the same end over and over again.
Somehow, her mother was always – always – surprised when her father packed them up in the darkest hour of the night to run from his sins, ranting at them to hurry, hurry, hurry. Juno knew to sleep fully clothed, and to keep anything she treasured tucked inside her pillow case; her pillow was often the only thing she was allowed to bring with them, other than the clothes on her back and the shoes on her feet.
Her mother had never learned, but Juno had made a pact not to be like her mother. Not back then, not now. Not ever.
Juno wrapped her arms around herself, fighting off a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. Some things you couldn't outrun, no matter how far you traveled or how long you stayed away. She might never figure out how to fully get over Alex Frampton, but why was she always – always - surprised by the piercing of her heart whenever he proved over and over again that he hadn't changed his ways?
Maybe she was like her mother after all.