Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Sam
Juniper View is even cuter than I thought it would be.
It was adorable from the window as I drove through last night, but I couldn’t begin to take it all in while stressing about the tire, the run-in with the sheriff on day one, and whether or not I’d actually make it to the motel I’d mapped out.
Today, I’m breathing easier after a night’s sleep at my destination. If I can find a place to rent and a job in the next few days, it’ll be another huge weight off.
But first, coffee.
I made sure to never research my route or Juniper View itself on any of the devices I used in LA.
The goal of the past year was to erase myself from my ex’s life as thoroughly as possible.
The dream scenario is that he doesn’t even know I’m gone, or if he does, he doesn’t care.
Either way, I’d give almost anything for his ambivalence.
I’d give up my entire life and risk starting over in a new place where no one knows me and I can never go back to who I was before.
Well. Yeah. That.
I did make time to search the town on my new phone, and I read reviews of all the small businesses and local places. As anxious as I’ve been, this is one spot I can’t wait to check out.
Sitting across from the grassy town square park that seems to be the hub of the wheel that is downtown Juniper View, Corner Coffee Shop rests on a funny little sliver of land that is, as the name suggests, protruding onto the corner of the park.
It’s a quaint, squat house with a forest green door and black shutters and a porch that stretches across the whole of the space, from sidewalk to sidewalk, welcoming visitors in from all possible directions.
It must’ve been an actual home based on the outside appearance, and when I pass a brass placard that explains it’s one of the original historic homes from the town’s founding in the early 1900s, it makes sense.
My heart patters with nerves and excitement as I pull the door open and a bell jingles when I enter.
“Welcome to Corner Coffee Shop! Happy Saturday!”
This is called out from the depths of the store—whoever said it is not standing at the counter a few feet inside.
The interior feels more like an eclectic home goods shop than a café with its displays of furniture, locally made wares based on the signage, and pottery.
Farther in, to the left of the counter space, are a few tables and chairs, and a bookcase with a sign above it that says, “Take one, leave one.”
One of my walls cracks. Maybe more than that, because I’m instantly in love.
Any store that promotes reading and sharing books? Sold. Sign me up. Take my money.
Just not too much…
Right. Of course not too much, because we are on a budget. Until I get a job, I can’t afford luxuries.
But is coffee a luxury? I mean, technically yes, but philosophically? Psychologically? Emotionally? No.
The house has a little bar that runs along the side of the area that must’ve been a galley kitchen but is now open-concept so patrons can see the coffee-making and even the ovens in action.
The menu is scrawled on four-paned windows hung up on the wall in lieu of a chalkboard or something electronic and the offerings are written in stylish hand-lettering.
There’s a deep white basin sink and big jars holding different tea blends, a huge espresso machine, and a whole stretch of countertop devoted to pretty pastries nestled under glass domes.
The aesthetic is cozy and natural with lots of wood tones, whites, glass, and copper, occasional black, green, and mustard yellow accents.
It’s so perfect for this little mountain town, and paired with the bookshelf, I may never leave.
After a few seconds of taking it all in, I still haven’t actually seen the person who works here, but there are other eyes on me, so I make a point to smile.
I don’t want to be the newcomer who’s rude or even who’s trying to be discreet but then ultimately draws attention.
From what I understand, the main tourist season for this small town isn’t the dead of winter, despite what its neighboring town, Silverton, experiences thanks to their fancy ski resort.
So I need to be here, but not be obvious.
I need to blend in enough that people aren’t surprised to see me, but don’t need to know anything about me.
I just need a minute to catch my breath, and a tiny sprout of hope is trying to peek its head up.
“She’ll be right out. Sorry.”
The man sitting closest to the counter at a small two-person table gives me a kind smile and—whoa.
This guy is the kind of handsome you get used to in LA, too, but he’s also not LA good-looking because it’s not the manicured appearance I’ve grown accustomed to.
He’s got a close-cropped beard and neatly styled hair and blue eyes that practically hypnotize.
He’d play a love interest doctor in season thirty-five of Grey’s Anatomy or something. He’d be Dr. McSexy or McGorgeous, no question.
It finally dawns on me that I haven’t responded, so I rush to say, “Thanks. I’m not in a hurry.”
“So sorry. Hi. Hello. Oh! Are you from out of town? Passing through or staying a while?”
The woman speaking to me stands behind an old-timey cash register and is, somehow more than the man I just spoke with, stunningly beautiful.
She’s got dark red hair with a Little Mermaid-like swoop of bangs in the front and a long, loose braid trailing over one shoulder, her pretty face punctuated with bright blue eyes.
Creamy skin with freckles scattered around striking features that end in a perfect chin.
“Hi. Um, yes. Just arrived. Planning to stay a while.” I can’t pretend I’m only passing through because I want to be able to come here again, but I’m desperately hoping she’ll let that be it.
Don’t ask me where. Or why. Or… anything?
She beams. “Oh my gosh, welcome! And thank you for stopping into Corner Coffee on your first day here.” She curtsies dramatically, hands out and fingers pinched as though she’s holding a fancy dress with the movement.
I can’t help but laugh softly because she’s so full of joy and energy, and a small flare of mortification follows. I’m not here to be charmed. Then again, I can’t imagine anyone coming here and not feeling better when they leave if she’s the one to greet them.
“Happy to be here. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
Her eyes widen and her smile grows even larger, somehow. “Amazing. Okay, well first, let’s get you some coffee and food, and then you can tell me everything.”
I swallow past the dread immediately hitting my bloodstream.
She doesn’t mean that, and I don’t have to tell her anything I don’t want to.
Plus if I’m going to really live here, I shouldn’t be such a cagey weirdo.
I can’t imagine dumping all my dirty laundry at their feet and seeming like someone they want to know.
I’m just not used to someone expressing interest before they even know my name.
Maybe that’s the small-town effect?
I’m going to need to figure out how to navigate this. What I want is small-town life but the anonymity of the city.
“I need something with espresso, but if you have a favorite drink, I’m open to suggestions. My gas station coffee yesterday had me longing for something with a little more oomph.” I am babbling a bit, but I’ll take that over shaking hands and an impending tension headache any day.
“Okay, well, I have a snickerdoodle latte people loved so much that I’ve kept it on the menu even though we’re way past Christmas, or I have our local flavor, but it’s pretty unique.”
She sees my raised eyebrows and grins. “It’s our JV latte.
We lovingly call our little town JV because it’s the initials, but we also sometimes feel like we’re the JV team and Silverton is the varsity town.
Anyway—people are really into that metaphor even though it doesn’t make sense.
So. We use juniper berries to make a syrup.
It’s sweet and peppery and aromatic. I like to tell people if they know they like juniper flavor or they like to try things a touch different, it’s a great option.
But if you like a tried-and-true, we’ve got all the classic flavors, too. ”
I’m intrigued. But I also need to be able to drink the entire thing and because of that, I say, “I love that it’s so local. But I think for today, I’m going to take you up on the snickerdoodle.”
“Perfect. Give me just a few minutes.”
I find a table next to one of the windows facing the park.
Despite the chill in the air, people are out, walking dogs and heading to work and living their lives.
I chose this place because the population is small.
Like less than a thousand people, from what I read, though even here there seems to be sprawl that probably doesn’t count in that number.
But I also chose it because I’ve never lived in a small town and there’s something about it that feels so wholesome and safe and lovely.
Here's hoping.
I’ll forever be grateful to my friend and former boss for mentioning it, and eventually, I’ll track down our mutual friend who moved here last year and did the very thing I’m hoping to do—start a new life.
Might take some getting used to the whole small-town vibe if they expect me to share a bunch of details, but so far, I like the warmth of this place already.
I can step inside, enjoy the heat, and then leave it.
My visit to Corner Coffee Shop is a near-perfect metaphor for how I want to function.
I want to come and go as I please. I don’t want to owe anyone anything, and I want the space to figure out what else I want once I have the first boxes ticked off.
“Here we go.” The barista sets down a tall pottery mug glazed in the same lovely vivid green of the door. “All the mugs are made by one of our local artists.”
The first sip is heaven and my eyes shut so I can block out other inputs and enjoy the basic pleasure of the moment.
I’ve promised myself I’ll work on noticing and partaking of simple joys.
This delicious, flavorful sip is truly delicious, especially with the watery poor excuse for coffee I’ve had while traveling.
Eventually, I’ll get back to being someone who knows how to enjoy these experiences without trying.
Right?
“I also got you a croissant as a little welcome.” As I open my eyes, she slides the plate onto the table, then takes a seat across from me.
I immediately reach out and pull the golden-brown croissant toward me, my stomach clutching with hunger. I haven’t been eating well and this looks like a dream. I wish I could say I think about refusing it, or that I realize this offer of kindness might come with strings.
“So, tell me everything!”
My heart sinks. I don’t actually know how to just…
do that. I hate it, but my reflex answer streaking through my mind is, “Maybe I’m too broken to do this.
” There’s this unspoken mode I’ve been in that tells me I need to just keep moving, keep working, keep going, and all will be well.
But that doesn’t work here, and I honestly haven’t thought about what that means or how to handle this exact scenario.
I’ve only hoped to avoid it, and now here I am on day two, having to dig out of a hole I stumbled into.
“Oh, um…” I shove one end of the croissant in my mouth and start chewing like the action will somehow distract from my inability to at least tell her my name.
“Hey, I’m sorry if I’m nosy. I love meeting new people, but I know sometimes you just want to come have a coffee and do your own thing.” Her expression is more measured now, and she glances to her left.
She exchanges a look with the man I spoke to when I came in. I’m scrambling internally to figure out how to rewind the last thirty seconds and make myself un-awkward.
That’s a thing, right?
“This is delicious.” It’s not much, but I hope it’s better than nothing, then realize there’s one more essential here. “I’m Sam.”
She smiles and it seems genuinely joyous.
“Oh, good! Those are also locally sourced. And I’m May.
Also, let me introduce you to my brother.
” She stands and walks over to the only other person not tucked away behind headphones staring at a screen.
“This is Declan. He’s one of the doctors in town.
Super nice guy. Oh my gosh, I forgot to ask, do you already have a place to stay lined up? ”
The guy I cast as Dr. McHotFace is an actual doctor? I’d laugh if my mind didn’t slip right back to the sheriff who could’ve been an actor playing a sheriff—and we’re not thinking about him, are we?
No.
I wave at the man in greeting. “Hi.”
I am awkward as all get out and wasn’t exactly planning on meeting people today, but why not? Why shouldn’t I jump right in with both feet?
It’s a rare person who can make you feel instantly liked and accepted, and this woman has the knack. She’s got me thinking this is all so normal and not running counter to everything I’ve been thinking since the second I stepped in here.
That’s probably why I say, “That’s on my list for today, actually. I wasn’t certain when I’d arrive so I couldn’t do much pre-planning. Do you know of any good options near town?” I would love to avoid having much of a commute, if it’s possible.
Her grin stretches wide, and her bright eyes practically twinkle back at me. “I have the perfect place.”
Declan speaks up, a hand on her wrist. “I think she means she has a perfect resource for you. There’s a community board, kind of like the old want ads.
I saw a few places available for immediate rent just last week, so you might have luck there.
” He gives me directions to the board and I’m deeply grateful.
And yes, I’m a touch curious why May seems to be quieter, more withdrawn, like the comment dumped cold water all over her pretty braid, even though she’s nodding and smiling next to me. But so far, this day is already a win. More than I expected, really.
I used to be a Pollyanna, but I’ve had a hell of a run of bad luck. I’ve lost the ability to assume the best in people. I’m battling a voice in the back of my head that tells me these people must want something in exchange for their kindness, their suggestions, their smiles.
But there’s also a scatter of letters in my chest trying to spell out hope. They’re asking me to wait and see. It’s an old reflex.
The person birthed out of the last few years knows better. She knows that hoping only leads to harm, to hurt, and the loss of that hope which is more brutal than trying for it to begin with. So those letters can stay scattered.
I promise myself I’ll do my best even still…even though I’m simply not sure I know how to anymore.