Chapter 16
AVERY
There’s a lot of clanging upstairs, and I wonder if Max is having trouble pulling anything apart.
“Why don’t you go up and help him?” Sarah asks.
“It’s not like I can do much more damage than what’s already been done.”
If only I hadn’t rushed into signing the lease before making sure things were all in order.
But then again…we were staying in the B&B once Cora’s home sold, and we were ready for more permanence than take out and the laundromat.
Instead of money in the bank from the house sale, Cora got nothing and is still trying to pay off the debts, which means I’m paying all the rent at this point.
“Seems like he’s trying to fix things,” Sarah says, pointing toward the ceiling.
“Yeah, I guess, but my apartment’s already finished. Those quirks aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.”
Still…maybe he’ll try to fix those too, eventually.
After everything we’ve dealt with in that apartment, part of me thinks the best solution would be to tear it all out and start over. Maybe Cora, Lila, and I will move into one of the newer apartments once they’re done.
But that’s a thought for another day.
Right now, there’s too much to handle.
Even if Max gets everything finished, I don’t know what the rent will look like afterwards—or if my coffee shop will even make it that far.
That’s the part I can’t quite figure out.
Why aren’t people coming in?
Even the diner gets packed, and sure, they serve coffee—but it takes forever to get a table. We offer quick service, to-go cups…convenience.
And still, something isn’t clicking.
Maybe I need better signage. Something simple like Now Open. We’re tucked away at the edge of town. People might not even realize we’re here.
Sarah started three social media profiles across various platforms and has posted a couple of times, but if it’s only going out to seventeen followers, we’ll be waiting until I’m ready to retire for a steady stream of customers to come through here.
So many ideas. Not enough time.
Maybe once Cora is back, I’ll have a little breathing room to focus on the business side of things. Sometimes it feels like Cora and I are sharing custody of Lila, even though I’m the aunt.
I love my niece, but it’s hard to shift into business mode after she goes to bed. I’m usually dead by that point and don’t want to make any life-changing decisions. During business hours might the be best time to think about those until the crowd picks up.
I let out a slow breath, trying to ease the tightness in my chest.
It’s been like this since I left Oregon last year.
Most days, I can stay positive. But some days, everything feels heavier than it should.
And there’s always that quiet thought in the back of my mind—
What if it’s not the situation? What if it’s me?
I push it away.
That line of thinking helps nothing. I need to keep moving and try to breathe above water. If I give in, I’ll be eating pints of ice cream and looking like Miss Trunchbull from Matilda—post chocolate frenzy.
Another loud bang echoes from upstairs.
With only one customer waiting and Sarah at the register, I gesture toward the ceiling. “I’m going to check on him.”
When I step into the apartment, tools are scattered across the kitchen floor, and Max is crouched under the sink, jeans and T-shirt already damp.
“Everything okay?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
“I think so,” he says, craning his neck to look at me.
That’s when I notice his hair—plastered to his forehead.
“What happened?” I ask, pointing.
He glances upward. “Oh. Yeah. I tried to tighten the pipe, but the water had other plans.”
I smile despite myself. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I don’t want you dealing with a leak for another week,” he says. “Especially since I noticed rust on these. I bet the guy invoiced for brand new and installed used.”
“That’s the least of my worries,” I admit, rubbing my forehead.
He twists one more time and slides out from under the sink with the wrench in his hand. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve just got a lot going on.”
“Anything I can help with?”
I let out a small laugh. “You’re already helping with my leaking sink.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I can help with something else too.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working on your own stuff? Or relaxing by the beach?” I ask.
He gestures vaguely. “I don’t even know what that looks like anymore. Sitting still isn’t really my thing.”
I study him for a moment. He cares about this, which is unexpected.
Maybe I’m used to Curt who only had an agenda that benefitted himself.
He was supposed to help me with a flat on my car, but he “couldn’t get away from a business dinner with the law firm owners,” which turned out to be how he stabbed me in the back and took my position.
I slide down to sit on the floor across from him, leaning my back against the island cabinet.
This feels more intimate than when he gave me his phone number, with our legs touching in the small area.
“I’m struggling with the coffee shop,” I say before I can stop myself. It’s both relieving to admit and tightens a knot in my chest.
“What kind of struggling?” Max looks at me with that piercing gaze, and my breaths become shallow, trying to keep the emotions down.
“If we don’t start bringing in more business, I won’t be able to keep it open long-term. I’ve got a small cushion, but not much beyond that.”
“Aren’t there a lot of people in town?”
Nodding, I say, “There are. But most of them go to the diner.”
“Why?”
“I’m still figuring that out.”
He leans back against the cabinet. “What have you tried? Marketing? Advertising?”
“Honestly? I’ve been focused on just keeping things running and making sure Lila has stability. The business strategy part kind of fell behind.”
He taps his chin with his forefinger. “That makes sense.” Then he adds, “Let me know if there’s something I can do. I won’t wear a chicken costume, but I can help in other ways. Like with a marketing plan.”
I laugh out loud. “Are you sure? You did say you can’t sit still. I bet you know a chicken boogie that could start a trend.”
He grins, wide and genuine, and it changes his whole face. As if he isn’t already ringing every internal bell I have, he’s now taking it to another level.
“I know a bit about business and marketing,” he says. “I just rarely handle that side directly.”
“Thank you,” I say. “For caring.”
He glances back at the sink. “It should hold for now. If not…bowl underneath again?”
“Classic solution,” I say with a smile.
He gathers his tools, tossing them into an older bag.
“Where did you get those?” I ask.
“Borrowed them from a plumber,” he says. “I had to promise I’d bring them back.”
I blink. “He just let you take them?”
Max shrugs. “I was convincing.”
I laugh. “Well, thank you. Really. Let me know if I can pay you or—”
He waves me off. “No need. If my sister was in your situation, I’d hope someone would help her too. And I seem to remember someone saying I should pay it forward.
He winks and I’m grateful I’m sitting down.
It takes a few extra seconds for what he said to catch up. I’m getting mixed signals. Not that I should be anything else in his eyes, but a sister? I had hoped we were more in the territory of friends at this point.
I debate whether to let it go and decide against it. I’d rather not be up all hours of the night.
“So, you give me your phone number and then call me your sister? I mean, I’ve never had a brother, but I don’t think I’d want to classify you that way.”
Max’s expression is full of terror. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. It came out all wrong.” He leans over and rubs his face with both hands before focusing on me again. “I have a sister, Georgina, and I just meant that I would want someone to take care of her if she were in this situation.”
I give him a half-smile and say, “Is that what you’re trying to do? Take care of me?”
His smile is soft, pulling the tension around us. “I take care of the important people in my life. You kind of stumbled into mine, but I’m grateful.” There’s a long pause before he says, “And I don’t think of you as a sister, at all.”
We both laugh, and it’s somewhat cathartic after the past few days.
“Thank you,” I say again, softer this time. I glance at his lips, wondering what they would feel like against my own.
He glances down at his phone, where the screen is lit up with an area code I’m not familiar with. “I need to take this.”
“No problem.”
“Hello, this is Max,” he says as he walks out of the apartment with the tool bag in his hand.
I stand there for a moment, unsure what to make of him.
At least he clarified how he thinks of me. I don’t think of him as a brother either.