6. Jules
Jules
“ S oooo, tell me all the things.” Lissette plops down across from me at the table.
The morning rush has passed, and it’s time for our weekly recap. This is supposed to be a time for us to discuss all things business, but usually, we veer off topic.
“We made a ton of progress. Delivery went well. And I got everything moved in, at least. The contractor finally texted that he’d be starting today.”
I glance around the coffee shop. The bones of the place remind me of my new shop, but Lissette has changed over to sleek furniture and replaced the eclectic art I’d loved so much. “The shop’s got a different vibe than here, but I think you’ll like it.”
“Different how?”
Holding my breath, I lift a shoulder, faking a calmness I don’t actually feel. “Well, for starters, it’s more wood, less brick, and has more of a farmhouse feel to it.”
“Did you get the link to the chalkboards I sent? Oh, and I forwarded over the contact of my honey supplier.”
I hide a cringe. “I did, thanks. Not sure I’m going with the chalkboard setup. At least not one as big as here. Oh, I should have a copy of that contract by tomorrow.”
Lissette frowns, shaking her head. “I told you, I don’t care about a contract.”
Unease swirls through my stomach. “And I told you, I’m not agreeing to using the name of the business you built without one in place. It feels like I’m climbing the ladder rungs on your back already.”
“You’re not. I love the idea, and I think it’s smart. We can advertise together, run promos together.”
That doubt huddling in the back of my mind sparks to life. The closer it comes to opening time, the more I struggle with our original plan to open a second shop called the Daily Brew Two.
I push the doubt aside and roll my eyes at my best friend.
“Let me get the shop open before you start making massive plans for us.”
“I’m just trying to help. Especially since I couldn’t be there to help you move. Did you meet your neighbors yet? Any repercussions?”
“Not yet. I tried doing my stress-buster dance sesh to ABBA last night, and they banged on the wall. Again.”
“Rude.”
“Well, I mean… it was nearly ten o’clock, and I did have my music up pretty loud. I totally get it. I think they must work some kind of weird schedule. I should pay better attention. If they bang on the wall, turn it down. If they don’t… the coast is clear.”
The shop door opens, and a group of ladies piles in.
A smile erupts on my face as I recognize my friend.
Jordan and I lived on the same street before a tornado ripped apart the neighborhood.
It was ironic that we’d barely met while living on the same cul-de-sac prior to the storm, and now we’d reconnected via the coffee shop.
“Jules,” she calls out, barreling over with her arms outstretched for a hug.
“Hey, girl. I’ve got things all set for book club. You guys can head on back, and I’ll make a pot of tea.”
Jordan leads her friends Leah and Kylie to the back, where we have our monthly meeting. This month, we’ve selected a rom-com featuring a mustachioed rugby player.
Lissette passes behind the counter. “I’ll handle the tea and send everyone else back.”
“I wish you’d try book club at least once. Expand your horizons a little.”
“Eh, no thanks. I don’t do romance. But let me know when you guys do a thriller, and I’m all in.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to be anytime soon. At best, maybe I’d get her to try a romantic suspense. But whatever. It’s her loss. Book club is always a hilarious time, especially if the older ladies show.
Lissette shoos me away with the flick of a wrist, and I join the group gathering on the couches in the back of the shop. This is the one program I hope to continue in my new shop.
Book club is my baby. Lissette was skeptical to begin with, but we’ve more than doubled in size every month, and now we host a good twenty or more ladies. Lissette’s forte is art, as evidenced by the ever-changing paintings displayed for commission, another program I’m planning to offer.
“How’s it goin’, Jules?” Kylie asks when I take the seat next to her.
“It’s good. I’m tired. Working a full shift here and then doing after-hours work planning the new place. But I’m hoping for a soft open in a few weeks. ”
“Oh wow, that’s fast,” Jordan pipes in.
“Yeah, I’m trying to be optimistic that it’s going to happen. I hope you guys will come down and see me.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Leah says. “It’s not like you’re moving far away. Senoma is, what? Not even a half-hour drive? I think it’s great that you’re branching out.”
I shrug, ducking my head. “It took me long enough to figure things out. But thirty-eight isn’t too late to start over, is it?”
“It’s never too late to start over,” Jordan gushes. “But for real, you’re thirty-eight? I don’t know why I thought you were a bunch older than me.” Pink spreads across Jordan’s cheeks as her eyes widen.
“Probably because when we met, I had the worst combo of perm and post-breakup haircut.” I can’t help the eye roll as I make that statement. “My sister-in-law teased me mercilessly about how it added ten years on me.”
And Nancy had. So much so that it gave me a mini complex, and I stopped going to the salon altogether and have been letting my hair grow ever since.
“Okay, so let’s get this discussion started,” I prompt, changing the subject off of me and trying to be respectful of their time.
For the next hour, the discussion takes flight and then makes left turns that lead to belly-aching laughter.
And with every smile shining back at me, my excitement for hosting this event at my own shop grows.
“Wow, someone looks like she could use a good dose of fun,” Kylie mutters from beside me. I glance over at Lissette behind the counter. The pinched look that she doesn’t bother hiding as another round of hoots goes up douses my merriment like being dunked with a bucket of cold water.
“Are you guys done yet?” The male voice from behind startles me. Nate, Jordan’s sweetheart, passes behind me and perches on the arm of her chair, leaning over and dropping a kiss to her hair.
“Hi, honey.” She beams at him. “Yes, we’re wrapping it up. You guys find all the things next door?”
One more glance at Lissette, and I wonder again if she’s just been humoring me this whole time about the book club and opening my own shop. I don’t want there to be competition between us, though it feels like that’s the direction we’re headed.
I paste on a smile to hide my unsettled thoughts as everyone gathers their things, stopping to help me clean up as they do. And that’s the thing. This group takes care of each other. They always seem ready to chip in and help, so something as simple as hosting a book club isn’t a burden.
Why Lissette can’t see that, I don’t understand. But she’s complained every month since we began.
But not for much longer.
With hugs all around and fresh to-go cups, the group disperses. I take an extra minute to fluff the pillows on the couch because Lissette has complained in the past about them, specifically after book club, and zero other times.
A throat clears behind me, and I’m snapped back to reality.
A glance over my shoulder delivers the worst kind of surprise. It’s Cal from the other day. The guy who never gets the tab. The one with the unexpected toddler and who refuses to change a dirty diaper. I scoff internally, because men , but paste on my most professional smile.
His brown hair is a touch too long, and from the looks of it, he’s been running his fingers through it.
His clothes are rumpled, and the little girl braced on his hip is in pajamas.
They both sport matching remains of whatever she ate for breakfast, his as a swipe on the shoulder of his T-shirt, hers as a swipe through her hair, and they’re regarding me with matching blue eyes.
The baby’s eyes are bright, but he’s got bags under his.
“I wanted to thank you for getting me that babysitting info,” he says.
Oh . “Sure, no problem. Can I get you anything?”
“No, that was it.”
I’m being rude. I know it. My mood is in the shitter after Lissette’s behavior.
“Okay, well…” he says at the same time the little girl points at me and says, “I go.” Or maybe it was “Hey girl”?
“I wish I could figure out what she’s saying,” he admits. He looks exhausted, and for half a second, I feel bad for him. I could try a little harder to be nice, especially since he’s not the reason for my bad mood. He’s clearly in over his head right now.
“Sometimes toddlers just babble while they figure out how to make words. She’ll get it.”
He shifts her from one arm to the other, and I don’t miss the way she clings to him. The sight tugs at my heartstrings. I’m not typically a baby lover, but this little girl is adorable and so clearly latched to him, I can’t stop the heartwarming.
“So, Nancy was able to help you? She’s going to babysit for you?”
He sighs and rubs the little girl’s arm.
It’s an unconscious movement, and it tugs at my heartstrings even harder.
“She’s going to keep her during the days when I need help.
I work a twenty-four hours on, forty-eight hours off schedule.
But she thought it might be good for Charlie to have some routine, so we’ll do regular hours every day during the week.
I still have to figure out the overnight part. ”
I become aware that I’ve been staring at the two of them. Maybe I’m a little exhausted as well if this guy is piquing my interest. I break the trance I’m in and glance around the coffee shop as if checking on the other customers.
“Anyway,” he continues, and I shift my attention back to him. He swallows and won’t make eye contact. “I can tell you’re busy. I just wanted to say thanks again.”
He leaves with the little girl babbling, and I feel like a jerk as I watch them through the front windows as they make their way to his car before he loads her into a car seat.
He was being nice, and I let my stress leach out onto him.