Chapter 5 #2
“She gave herself kitchen duty,” Willa, the normal kitchen duty person on the crew, whispers in a hushed voice. Willa’s a round-cheeked, brown-skinned, middle-aged lady with cat pins all over her Bean & Nugget apron and blue streaks in her brown hair.
She hugged me for saving the café from being turned over to the IRS when she introduced herself.
I pretended I didn’t buy Chandler Sullivan’s family business so that I can watch him watch me destroy it piece by piece in the process of building something even better in its place.
Not that he’s stopped by this morning.
Nor have I invited him.
Wouldn’t break my heart to not see the bastard until the new signage is put in, even if I’m paranoid about when he might randomly drop in and catch me unprepared.
“Again?” the customer asks.
“Again,” Willa confirms.
“Poor thing. I saw her grandpa this morning, and he just looked so sad . I hope the new?—”
Willa clears her throat. “Did you want a cinnamon latte today? Since Sabrina’s in the kitchen? Not every day you get a Sabrina Cinnamon Special.”
I need to focus on what I’m doing and quit listening in on this conversation, but as I’m turning my attention back to my research on kombucha brewery suppliers, something tickles my nose.
Something sweet.
Hot.
Fresh.
Is that lemon? Do I smell lemon?
My mouth waters.
Profusely .
Like I need to surreptitiously wipe away the drool threatening to slip out of my mouth.
I glance around the dining room. The moms and their little ones at the picnic table across the way don’t notice.
The older couple at one of the three tables in the picture window are staring out at the snowcapped mountains, or maybe at the lake below the town that you can see clearly from this side of the café.
The dude wearing headphones and staring at his computer in front of the fire is smirking.
But none of them are sitting up and sniffing like the whole entire dining room smells like freaking heaven .
Except Zen, who’s at the other end of the counter, watching everything.
I can’t see their nose quivering, but I’d bet it is.
“Is she making Elsie’s lemon scones?” the customer asks reverently.
So it’s not just me and Zen.
Someone else smells it too.
Also, who’s Elsie?
“Oh. Yes. That too,” Willa confirms.
“I want the Sabrina Cinnamon Special and one of Elsie’s scones.”
“You got it, Ms. Isabella.”
“Sabrina!” the customer at the counter shrieks.
I look back.
Can’t help it. Everyone looks up at that.
And there she is, Duchess Sabrina with the absolute audacity to be bright and cheery and gorgeous as she pauses on her way past the doorway in the kitchen, a silver tray held aloft in one oven-mitted hand.
She looks like she belongs here.
Was born here.
Grew up here.
Is comfortable here.
This is her happy place, and I can’t help wondering how much of the grief in her eyes in Hawaii was from knowing that it wasn’t hers anymore.
I shake my head.
Not my problem.
What I’m doing with this café has nothing to do with her, and she doesn’t get to be in the soft spots of my heart anymore.
“Hey, Isabella,” she says cheerfully. “Be just a minute on your latte, okay?”
“Oh my god, you poor thing, how are you?” the customer, Isabella apparently, replies.
My shoulders bunch higher. I grunt, turn back around, and distract myself with a sip of my tea, which is cold now.
The chill makes a shiver slink through my body, but the tea itself?
Still delicious.
Dammit.
Everything I’ve had here this morning has been good, and Zen’s made a point to tell me that they haven’t used any of my tea stash that we travel with.
That all of this is what they sell here at Bean & Nugget.
“I’m doing great,” Sabrina calls back.
“How’s Emma?”
“Still solo honeymooning.”
“When I think about all of the things Chandler did… Did you know he once double-charged me for breakfast, and I thought it was just that I forgot to pay the first time, but he was actually a shithead who double-charged all of us sometimes?”
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry. You should mention that to the new boss and see if he’ll give you a coupon for a free meal. He’s over at the corner table by the windows. Be right out with your drink. I need to set these down.”
Off gossip .
Sure, she is.
I snort softly to myself.
Concentrate . Kombucha. Equipment. Suppliers. Contractors. Change.
Ignore the scent of heaven coming from the kitchen.
Ignore the little violin playing a sad song deep in my gut with lyrics to match, suggesting that Chandler betrayed her as much as Vince betrayed me.
“Excuse me, are you the new owner?” Isabella asks.
Can’t ignore that.
I look up and nod.
She’s maybe thirty or thirty-five, an average white lady with brown hair and eyes, in a puffy vest over a long-sleeve shirt, hiking pants, and boots.
And that nod is all the permission she needs, apparently, to crush me in a hug with my cheek smushed to her breast.
“Oh my god, thank you . I don’t know if you know how much this place means to all of us here in the Tooth, but we would’ve just died if it went away. This is such an institution here, and to think Chandler would’ve let the government auction it off to pay for the taxes…”
“My pleasure,” I choke out.
I should be doing my work in the kitchen, but Sabrina ’s there, and I thought I could be left in peace out here in the dining room.
Wrong .
Zen makes a noise somewhere behind me that says they’re completely and totally amused but trying hard to stifle a laugh.
“Do you see that view?” Isabella says, still cradling my head to her bosom with one arm while she sweeps the other out to indicate the snowcapped mountains and blue sky above us and the frozen lake in the valley below us.
“This is the most coveted real estate in all of Snaggletooth Creek, and it could’ve gone to someone awful .
We’re so grateful you’ve kept the café running for us. ”
For now .
Zen’s idea.
Keep the café running to profit off of it while we wait for all the pieces to fall into place for the renovations. Integrate ourselves in the community so they’ll want to support us.
Zen’s fucking brilliant.
“Isabella, not everyone likes to be touched,” Sabrina calls.
One more good deed for her today.
Isabella leaps back. “I’m just so happy, I forgot myself. But he’s cute too. Are you single, Grey?”
“He’s very single,” Zen supplies.
I glare at them while they pretend to be counting mugs on a tray behind the counter.
“But not currently interested in dating, thank you,” I say.
“Oh, I wasn’t asking for me. I was asking for everyone else in town.” Isabella winks. “You’re going to be very popular here for saving Bean & Nugget.”
“How popular?” Zen asks.
“We don’t get a lot of single fresh blood in town. Not permanently, anyway.” Isabella looks over at them. “And who are you? I missed your name, but you’re clearly new too.”
Zen freezes.
“This is Zen,” I supply. “They’re my personal assistant, and you should feel free to go to them if you have any concerns.”
“I’m a nepo-hire, so I don’t actually have to be good at my job,” Zen says.
If I were drinking, I would’ve just choked on my tea.
Zen being a sass-hole? Yes. All the time.
Zen being a sass-hole in front of a room of strangers?
Never.
Not out of respect for me and want for us to look like we have a respectful boss-assistant relationship.
More because they have an inherent distrust of the world in general. You don’t get the real Zen, any part of this Zen, until you’ve earned it.
Which means either this place is magic, or they’re just pissed enough at me to let down their guard in the name of shoving me under the bus.
No matter how much they’re excited about a kombucha bar, they’re not a fan of me trying on this new role as Super Vengeance Man.
Considering how well they know me, they probably have a point, but it’s not a point I’m willing to concede yet.
“Coffee and scone are ready, Iz,” Sabrina calls.
“ So good to meet you,” Isabella says. She looks for a second like she wants to hug me again, but instead pats me on the shoulder. And then she pauses to shake Zen’s hand and thank them too.
While Isabella gathers her order, Zen slinks around the counter and down the row of tables to sit opposite me.
“Is that the twentieth person who’s treated you like a savior today, or did I lose track?” they ask.
I eye them.
They shrug. “Not judging what you’re doing here. Just wondering if you’re up for it.”
That sweet lemon smell is lingering, making my mouth water again.
Sabrina strolls past the open kitchen door, which I don’t see so much as I feel .
And Willa steps up next to our table. “We noticed you’re out of tea.
Here. Sabrina made you another. This one’s hot.
And I thought you might want to try one of Elsie’s scones. ”
My eye twitches.
“Who’s Elsie?” Zen asks.
“Sabrina’s grandma. Our favorite Mrs. Sullivan, rest her soul.”
The guy on the laptop slides us a look, and I realize why he’s familiar.
He was in the video too.
One of the groomsmen.
That makes him one of Chandler Sullivan’s cousins as well. Also grandson to Mrs. Sullivan.
And the fact that Willa doesn’t point that out makes me suspicious all over again.
Is he spying on me?
Zen pulls their knees up to their chest in the chair and watches me without blinking while Willa strides back to the kitchen. “You’re in trouble, Uncle Grey. I don’t think you can do what we want to do and not make people upset. I didn’t count on that.”
They’re not wrong.
Worse, though?
They reach into their pocket and slide my phone across the table to me. “Can’t help but wonder what she’d think of this place. Bet she’d love it. We all know how much she loves a good lemon muffin.”
I look down at a preview of a text from Mimi.
When I swipe it open, I get a full-screen view of her life-weathered face grimacing over a bowl of something gray and lumpy, accompanied by a message.
Enjoying my oatmeal like a good girl. I know you’re tired of everyone asking you for things, but if you could invent a way for sugar and fat and donuts to be good for an old lady’s cholesterol level, I promise I’ll live forever and tell you you’re handsome every day.
Zen’s right.
She’d love the atmosphere in this place.
But as far as she knows, I’m still nursing my wounds from having all of my research sold out from underneath me in San Diego and the contract I accidentally signed barring me from doing further research in apiology unless it’s for Vince’s buddy’s company.
She has no idea I’m in a little mountain town righting the only wrong I can fix right now. And she won’t either.
Not until I’ve made it better and I can look her in the eye and tell her I did this for any reason other than to destroy someone.
Just because vengeance is necessary doesn’t mean it’s not ugly.
I’m keeping Mimi out of it.