Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Landry wiped her damp palms against the fabric of her smock, but the moisture kept returning. The weight of the pink envelope tucked inside her apron pocket pressed against her mind like a secret waiting to be released.
She could almost hear it whispering to her.
Do it now.
But Vern was behind the counter today, his sharp gaze flicking over the shop like a hawk sizing up prey. He wasn’t just taking orders—he was orchestrating, charming and ensuring that every customer left happy.
Not yet. She had to bide her time.
The espresso machine hissed as she and Mila worked side by side, their hands moving in sync as they filled orders. Landry expertly swirled foam into a heart shape on a cappuccino, her movements smooth and practiced.
Once she’d handed the cup to a waiting customer, Landry turned to Mila and spoke in a low tone. “Once he leaves, I’m putting another letter in the box.”
She stole a glance at Vern, who was engaged in a long-winded chat with a group of women at the counter. He wasn’t just taking their orders—he was enchanting them. He laughed at something one of them said, his easy charm on full display.
It gave her and Mila a moment to talk. Not about her breakup with Chad—that was a conversation best left for once Vern wasn’t around.
“I don’t understand why it’s so busy today,” Landry whispered as she slid a latte across the counter. “It’s a Monday. Mondays are supposed to be slow.”
Mila arched a brow, sweeping her gaze over the crowded coffee shop. “Vern mentioned something about it being a Ladies’ Getaway Week.”
Landry blinked. “A what?”
She looked around and realized, for the first time, that the ratio of women to men was at least three to one. The air hummed with animated chatter—groups of women laughing over their drinks, flipping through shopping bags, checking itineraries on their phones.
“Less talking, more frothing,” Vern cut in, his voice just sharp enough to remind them he was still very much in charge.
Mila barely suppressed an eye roll as she handed over the next drink.
Landry smiled as she watched Vern turn to the next woman in line, instantly switching from gruff to gregarious. She busied herself with another order, but her mind kept drifting.
The morning dragged, an endless whirlwind of steaming milk, pouring shots, wiping counters. By the time the rush finally waned, Landry exhaled a slow breath, dragging a cloth across the countertop as if scrubbing away the last few hours.
“The hordes have departed,” she muttered.
Mila smirked but said nothing, too busy stacking clean mugs.
“It’s the hordes who help pay your salary,” Vern quipped, casting them both a pointed glance. “No business, no baristas.”
Beside her, Mila pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh.
“We know,” Landry said with exaggerated sweetness, waving an airy hand. “Can we expect this chaos all week?”
“They’re here for five days, so I hope so.” Vern rubbed his hands together, and Landry could almost see him counting today’s earnings.
Landry rolled her eyes, but if Vern was in a chatty mood, she might as well use it. “What kinds of events are on tap for this week?”
“They eat, drink, shop and then pick and choose from whatever is scheduled,” Mila answered before Vern could. “Yoga, tai chi, wine tastings…the works.”
“Are there any speakers?” Landry asked.
“Peter Elliott, you remember him?” Vern took charge of the conversation. “He comes in here at least once a week. He’s lecturing at the college tonight on Caroline Charles.”
Something in Landry’s stomach flipped. She swallowed and kept her voice steady. “Caroline Charles, the architect.”
Vern nodded. “Yeah. The one who designed this building and the old post office.”
Landry shifted, suddenly restless. “Is the lecture open to the public?”
Vern shrugged. “Far as I know.”
Mila wrinkled her nose. “Sounds boring.”
Landry didn’t think so.
But before she could ask any more questions, Vern’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen, then, without a word, strode toward the door.
Mila leaned in. “He’s leaving.”
Landry’s pulse spiked. But she had to be sure he wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon.
“Where are you headed?” she called out.
Vern turned back, arching a brow. “Who are you? The police?”
Landry grinned. “Just want to know where to send them in case you disappear.”
That earned a chuckle. “Haircut. My barber had a cancellation and can fit me in.”
Landry thought about telling Vern he should ask for a discount because he didn’t have much hair to cut, but she settled for a smile.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I’ll be back before the crowd rolls in again.”
The second the door shut behind him, her muscles tensed.
She looked at Mila. “I’m going for it.”
“Wait a minute.” Mila gave her arm a quick squeeze. “Just in case he forgot something and walks back in.”
Landry nodded. One minute passed.
Her heartbeat counted the seconds.
Two minutes.
No sign of Vern.
Landry glanced around the shop, checking for stragglers. The coffee shop was quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes.
She exhaled, fingers trembling as she reached into her smock and pulled out the envelope. Anticipation coiled tight in her chest as she clutched it.
Mila had already unlocked the back of the letter box.
As expected, Mila’s letter was still there.
Sighing dramatically, Mila stuffed it into the pocket of her smock. “The universe doesn’t want to hear from me.”
“Perhaps it’s not the right time,” Landry soothed as she slipped her envelope inside, fingers lingering for half a second longer than necessary.
Would Kindred Spirit respond immediately?
Or, worse, would this be the time he didn’t write back at all?
A shiver of doubt crawled up her spine, but she shoved it away.
Shutting the door, Landry locked it tight and forced herself to turn back to the counter, pretending, just for now, that she hadn’t left a piece of her heart inside that golden box.
Landry glanced around the nearly empty shop, the lull in the day stretching between her and Mila like a held breath.
“I’d say this is the perfect time for a break,” Mila said.
“You won’t get an argument from me.” Landry tugged a chair from one of the many unoccupied tables and sank into it, the exhaustion of the morning rush pressing against her bones.
“Do you want something to drink?” Mila asked, already half rising.
Landry shook her head. “But if you want to get something for yourself—”
“I’m good.” Mila dropped back into her seat, folding her arms on the table. A familiar gleam sparked in her dark eyes, curiosity creeping into her expression. “So, tell me about dinner with the folks. Has your dad found you another job yet?”
Landry rubbed her temple. Every visit with her parents ended the same way—her father dropping hints (or, more often, outright shoving a stack of printed job listings in her direction) and her mother trying to smooth things over with dessert.
“If only that were all that happened,” Landry drawled, exhaling a melodramatic breath.
Mila leaned forward, intrigue deepening the warmth in her gaze. “Tell me.”
Now Landry hesitated, the memory of last night still raw, still threading through her nerves like a splinter she couldn’t quite dislodge. “Zesty Z was there when I pulled up.”
Mila’s eyes widened. “No.”
“Oh yes.”
“They invited Chad to dinner and didn’t tell you?” Her voice was high-pitched with outrage, her whole body tensing like she was ready to march over to Landry’s parents’ house and demand answers.
“They knew he was going to propose.” Landry let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. “They planned a whole celebration for afterward.”
“No way.” Mila practically squealed the words. “OMG, how could you have kept this from me?”
“With Vern breathing down our necks all morning?” Landry lifted a brow. “I couldn’t exactly get into it.”
Mila pursed her lips, conceding the point with a slow nod. “Fair. But our fearless leader isn’t here now, so spill.”
Landry folded her hands in front of her.
“I should have known something was off the second I walked in. My mom had the china and crystal set out—like, the good stuff. Which was weird because she’d originally invited me over for crab cakes and fries.
” She paused, twisting her fingers together.
“And then there was Chad. When she suggested he and I take a walk, I just…knew.”
The amusement in Mila’s eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer, something understanding. “Did he propose?”
Landry swallowed, staring down at the grain of the wooden table. She traced a crack in the surface with her fingertip before finally looking up. “I didn’t give him the chance.”
Mila’s expression flickered—surprise chased by admiration.
“I didn’t want either of us to have that memory,” Landry admitted quietly.
Reaching across the table, Mila squeezed her hand, her touch warm and grounding. “That was kind of you.”
Landry’s lips quirked. “I have my moments.”
Mila’s mouth curled, but her eyes remained thoughtful. “Still…the Chadster can be pretty determined. How did you stop him?”
Landry hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment all over again—the way the words had burned in her throat, the way Chad’s expression had shifted from certainty to confusion to something heartbreakingly close to pain.
“I got the words out first.” She cleared her throat, pushing past the lump forming there. “I told him I thought we should break up.”
Mila sucked in a breath. “Ouch.”
Landry forced a shrug, but the movement felt heavy. “He’s not a bad guy. He’s just not my guy. I’m hoping that one day he’ll realize that I’m not the woman for him.”
Mila’s gaze went distant, and for a moment, the easy rhythm of their conversation stilled.
“Even when a breakup is for the best, it’s still not easy,” Mila murmured, almost to herself.
It hit Landry then how little she knew about Mila’s past, about the people she’d loved before moving to GraceTown. Of course, every time she asked, her friend had changed the subject. “Did you ever—”
“Enough gloom. How many letters have you sent?” Mila’s question rolled smoothly over Landry’s.
Landry hesitated but let it go. “This was the third.”
Mila nodded, and Landry caught the brief flicker of disappointment in her friend’s face.
“I’m sorry your envelope was still there,” Landry said softly.
Mila waved a dismissive hand, but her usual bravado seemed forced. “The universe has spoken. It’s not my time.”
Landry’s chest ached. “It will be.”
Mila lifted a single brow. “Maybe.” Then, as if sensing the shift in mood, she straightened, her grin returning with full force. “But right now, let’s focus on you. With Chad officially out of the picture, you’ve got options.”
Landry blinked. “Options?”
“Oh yeah.” Mila held up a finger. “Peter.” Then another. “Kindred Spirit.”
Landry let out a laugh, shaking her head. “That’s not—”
“The real question is,” Mila said with a smirk, “which one will you choose?”
Landry opened her mouth, but the answer didn’t come.
Because for the first time in a long time…she wasn’t sure.
And maybe that was okay.
Leaning back in her chair, she let the question settle instead of rushing to answer it. The world didn’t need her decision right now.
“Or,” she mused, swirling a figure eight pattern on the tabletop with one finger, “maybe I choose neither.”
Mila tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh?”
Landry glanced out the window, watching a few golden leaves dance in the breeze. “Maybe for now, I just choose…me.”
Mila’s grin softened, a slow nod of approval in her expression. “Now, that,” she said, lifting an imaginary glass in a toast, “is an option I can get behind.”
Landry clinked her imaginary glass against Mila’s, a small smile playing on her lips. For the first time in a while, she wasn’t looking ahead, thinking about next steps.
For now, this—this moment—was enough.