Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The morning rush at Cuppa Joe had quieted by the time Cora helped Dori restock the pastry case. The air smelled of espresso and cinnamon muffins, the chatter of lingering customers weaving through the songs of the indie playlist.
“I think we finally survived the morning rush,” Dori said, sweeping a hand across the counter. “You’re getting faster at lattes.”
“I’m finally remembering which button does what,” Cora said, smiling. “Though I still panic every time someone asks for half caff.”
Before Dori could respond, the bell above the door jingled, and a regular—Dr. Dorthea Lowell, a retired professor—bustled in, several flyers clutched in one hand.
“Morning, ladies,” she called. “You’ll want one of these.” She set the flyers on the counter. “Collister College alumni weekend. If you could put one up on your bulletin board, I’d be ever so grateful. We’re tying it in with the Homecoming celebration this year.”
“Aren’t they the same thing?” Cora asked, wiping her hands on a towel and leaning closer. The flyer was cheerful, printed in Collister blue and gold: “Reconnect, Remember, Celebrate—Collister College Homecoming and Alumni Reunion.” The date was only a few weeks away.
“Homecoming is typically centered around a major sporting event—football, in our case. It involves the entire college community, both current students and alumni.” Dr. Lowell’s tone carried the crisp authority of a lecture.
“An alumni weekend focuses more on reunion activities for former students.” Dr. Lowell went on to say which year of graduates they were focusing on this time.
Cora’s breath caught. That was the same year she—and Aaron—would have graduated.
While Cora’s mind whirled, Dr. Lowell went on, “Of course, we at Collister are committed to fostering a lifelong connection among all our alumni.”
“I didn’t realize anyone was still doing paper flyers,” Dori said, fingering the edge of one.
“Online invites for most, but there are always a few who get missed.” Dr. Lowell glanced at the bulletin board. “Coffee shops get a lot of traffic—and we’re hoping to reach alums we’ve lost track of. You’re the third shop I’ve stopped at today. I’d appreciate it if you’d help get the word out.”
“We’ll do our best,” Dori assured her.
Cora’s pulse skipped. Aaron had gone to Collister. Or…the Aaron she’d met through the Possibility Wing had. Either way, it was something—a tangible thread.
After Dr. Lowell left with her latte, Dori tacked the flyer to the board. “I didn’t graduate from Collister, but Homecoming’s always a blast. You thinking of going?”
“I think I might,” Cora said, folding one of the extra flyers carefully and slipping it into her pocket. “It feels…worth checking out.”
They worked quietly for a bit, refilling napkin holders and wiping down tables. When they were nearly finished, Dori glanced over. “How’s the job hunt coming? You haven’t mentioned it lately.”
Cora hesitated, then sighed. “I got an offer.”
Dori’s eyes lit. “That’s great! Where?”
“Ohio.”
The word hung in the air, heavy and flat.
Cora knew she should have been more excited—especially with her house-sitting job coming to an end soon—but she had unfinished business in GraceTown. It was hard to think about leaving when so much still felt unresolved.
Dori set down the tray she was holding. “Ohio? You’re really going to move to Ohio?”
“Looks like it.” Cora shrugged, half defensive, half resigned. “I need to work, and it’s a good position—steady pay, decent benefits. I’ve applied for full-time jobs here in GraceTown but haven’t even gotten an interview.”
“I don’t understand that, not at all.” Dori frowned. “I guess I thought—hoped—your part-time library job might turn into something more.”
Before Cora could explain that the branch where she worked barely had enough work to keep one librarian busy, Hannah swept in, carrying a tray of cupcakes, her Pink House Cakes logo stretched across her shirt.
“Morning, Dori.” Hannah’s gaze remained focused on her friend. “Special delivery—chocolate peanut butter swirl.”
“Bless you,” Dori said, her eyes lighting up. “They’re gorgeous. And I’m betting they taste every bit as good as they look.”
Cora moved some items around to make room on the counter.
“They absolutely do.” Hannah grinned, then glanced from Dori to Cora, then back to her friend. “What’s going on?”
“Cora here might be moving to Ohio,” Dori said.
“Ohio?” Hannah’s brows lifted. “That’s a haul. Why the move?”
Cora’s throat tightened unexpectedly. “I got offered a job there. A good one.”
Hannah leaned on the counter. “Congrats! But if it’s a good offer, how come you don’t sound excited about it?”
“Did you not hear the Ohio part?” Dori quipped while sneaking a swipe of frosting from one of the cupcakes. “Mmm, I love the cinnamon buttercream.”
“Dori, you can’t do that! Okay, that one is officially yours.” Hannah shook her head and then refocused on Cora. “Ohio isn’t a bad place to live. I used to work with a woman from there, and she was lovely.”
Cora stifled a sigh. “I’m sure she was, and I’m sure it is. It’s not that. It’s more that I like it here, so I was hoping…”
Hannah smiled and nodded. “I get it. Once I settled in here, I didn’t want to leave either. But hey, if you go, you can always come back to visit. Just because you move away doesn’t mean you’re not still part of GraceTown.”
“That’s exactly what I was about to tell her,” Dori said.
“It’s the truth,” Hannah said, pushing back off the counter. “Once GraceTown claims you, it never really lets go. Good luck on your new job.”
When her shift ended an hour later, Cora stepped outside, an extra alumni flyer tucked in her pocket. The air carried a faint hint of autumn, crisp and full of promise.
She paused, breathing it in, then started toward the library, the paper crinkling softly with each step.
The day already felt like it was turning a corner—and then her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from her mom.
Happy birthday, sweetheart. Hope you’re having a wonderful day!
Cora smiled faintly at the screen. It wasn’t a long message, but it made her smile all the same.
She sent a quick response. Thanks, Mom. The day’s been stellar so far.
As she slipped the phone into her pocket, she realized it was true. This might be the only birthday greeting she received, but the news of the alumni reunion felt like a gift all its own.
By the time she reached the library, the afternoon light had slanted low, golden beams spilling through the tall windows as she pushed open the door. The familiar hush wrapped around her like comfort.
“Good afternoon, Adelaide,” she called, her voice carrying through the quiet.
Adelaide looked up at the front desk, her expression soft. “Well,” she said, “someone’s in unusually high spirits today.”
Cora grinned as she set her bag on the counter. “I might be. Look what landed in my lap this morning.” She pulled the folded flyer from her pocket and smoothed it open.
Adelaide adjusted her glasses, studying the blue and gold print. “Collister College Homecoming and Alumni Reunion,” she read aloud.
“They’re holding it in a few weeks,” Cora said, “and it just so happens they’re highlighting the class I would have been in if I’d come back to GraceTown for college.”
Adelaide’s gaze lingered on the paper. “How serendipitous.”
“I know.” Cora’s excitement bubbled over. “I thought maybe if I went, I could find something. A record, a name, maybe even someone who knew Aaron.”
“Perhaps,” Adelaide murmured, her expression unreadable. “Just remember—sometimes what’s meant to be found waits for the right moment.”
Cora moved toward the back, humming under her breath, unwilling to let even Adelaide’s cryptic wisdom dampen her spirits. She turned toward the corridor leading to the archives— and stopped short.
The velvet rope was down.
Her pulse fluttered.
She hesitated only a moment before she hurried forward and pushed open the heavy door.
Inside, the air was cool and faintly perfumed with the scent of dust and time. And there—on the table—sat Volume II, its leather cover gleaming faintly in the slanted light, as though waiting for her.
Cora’s breath caught. “You’re back,” she whispered.
She reached out, her fingertips grazing the cover before she opened it.
The world tilted
She stood in a small apartment living room, sunlight spilling through gauzy curtains. The scent of vanilla and warm cake drifted through the air. Balloons floated lazily above the sofa, and soft music played from a nearby speaker.
On the coffee table sat a frosted cake crowned with pale yellow roses. “Happy 21st, Cora” was piped across the top in delicate script.
Aaron emerged from the kitchen, carrying a bottle of white wine and two glasses, his dark hair mussed, sleeves rolled up and that smile—the one that always made her heart flip-flop—lighting his face.
Warmth fluttered through her chest as he crossed the room. Then she caught the other scents drifting from the kitchen and smiled. “Something smells terrific.”
“Pan-seared scallops in lemon butter sauce with roasted asparagus and garlic risotto.” His grin held equal parts pride and anticipation, as if he waited for her verdict.
“It’s my favorite.” Her voice came out soft, almost wondering.
“I know.” He looked pleased, a little smug, like he’d just won the best kind of challenge.
“You made that? Yourself?” she asked, her heart rising to her throat. “For me?”
“I did.” He set down the wine and the glasses and moved to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I wanted to make something special. Something that would show you just how much I love you.”
Her gaze dropped to the cake, rich and perfect beneath its pale frosting. “And this?”
“Your favorite—lemon with white buttercream frosting.” He held up a hand. “Full disclosure, I didn’t bake this. It came from Cozy Crumb.”
“The best bakery in town,” Cora murmured, touched.
“Only the best for my girl.”
Cora’s chest overflowed with love. She was so lucky.
She turned back to her fiancé, smiling at the flash of the engagement ring on her left hand. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’d have been happy with a pastrami on rye if it meant spending my birthday with you.”
“You deserve this and so much more.” He brushed his lips across hers. “You do so much for everyone. Besides, you turn twenty-one only once.”
Warmth unfurled through her chest at the look in his eyes.
“Make a wish,” he said, lighting the candles one by one. “Then we’ll eat.”
Cora leaned over the cake, closing her eyes. The wish formed easily. Let every day feel like this.
When she blew out the candles, Aaron caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
“You know,” he murmured, “tonight is only the beginning. You’re going to have to do this all over again.
Not only to celebrate with your friends, but my parents also want to take you out for your birthday.
They wanted to do it tonight, but I told them this evening was mine—and that you’ll be celebrating all week. ”
“A birthday week.” She laughed, blinking away sudden tears. “I like the sound of that.”
He poured the wine, handing her a glass. “To the woman who’s captured my heart,” he said softly. “To everything ahead of us.”
They clinked glasses, and for a heartbeat, the world held still—soft light, laughter, the promise of forever suspended between them.
The light fractured around her, soft laughter dissolving into silence. Cora blinked, her breath catching as the birthday scene evaporated like mist.
The library came back into focus—the scent of dust and old paper, the faint hum of the overhead lights. The book sat on the desk where she’d found it, closed now, as if it had never opened.
She straightened, heart still echoing with the life she’d just left behind.
The sun had dipped low by the time Cora left the library. The last of the day’s warmth brushed her shoulders. Not ready to go home quite yet, she wandered toward Main Street and found the town bathed in a honeyed glow.
A trolley rattled past, the cheerful clang of its bell breaking the stillness. Through its windows, she glimpsed laughing faces—a family squeezed together on a bench, a pair of teenagers sharing earbuds, a couple holding hands. Cora’s lips curved faintly.
The air smelled of cinnamon and apples as she approached the Cozy Crumb Bakery. Through the window, she saw that the display case gleamed with rows of frosted cupcakes and slices of cake behind polished glass. On impulse, she pushed open the door, the bell above it chiming softly.
Inside, the air was warm and sweet. A young woman behind the counter glanced up from boxing pastries. “Evening! What can I get you?”
Cora’s gaze drifted over the glass case until it landed on a single slice of lemon cake crowned with a swirl of buttercream. Her heart gave a tiny, traitorous tug.
“I’ll take that one,” she said, pointing. “To go.” Then, almost without thinking, she added, “Actually, I’ll eat it here.”
The woman smiled, slid the slice onto a plate and handed it over with a fork. “Good choice. Our specialized flavors go fast. The Pink House supplies a limited number of them to us.”
Cora paused, realizing Hannah likely had baked this cake.
Pulling out her wallet, Cora managed a smile. “I’m glad you had a piece left. Today’s my birthday, and this is exactly what I was looking for.”
“How serendipitous,” the woman said, her words reminding Cora that Adelaide had used that same word earlier today. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” She carried her plate to a small table by the window. She lifted her fork, the scent of lemon and sugar rising to meet her.
The first bite melted on her tongue—bright, sweet, achingly familiar. For a moment, she could almost hear laughter and the faint clink of glasses, the echo of another birthday in another world.
Cora swallowed, the sweetness lingering. It wasn’t the same, but it was something. A reminder that joy could still find her, even here, even now.
When she finished the last bite, she sat for a moment longer, watching the trolley pass outside. Then she smiled softly to herself.
It wasn’t the celebration she’d had with Aaron.
But her words to her mother rang true.
It had been a stellar day.