Chapter 7Rose
Chapter 7
Rose
W hen we got to the Chocolate Lab—only ten minutes later than normal, even after all the dog drama—I let us in the side door to the roastery and hustled to turn off the alarm while Rafe moved purposefully around the space. He flipped on the lights, pulled out the coffee blend binder and switched on the roaster.
He was getting right down to it—not needing my help or time, thankfully.
Still, I had to double-check. “You okay with starting on your own?”
He looked at me and rumbled one word. “Rose.”
“Well, you know where to find me if you need anything,” I said, thumbing over my right shoulder toward the front of the café—like he couldn’t find his way. Rafe gave me a chin lift, and I got out of there before I embarrassed myself further. No hovering needed .
I headed down the hall, switching on lights in the bathrooms and the meeting room as I went. Mateo had done his usual sterling job, with the help of the kids on the evening crew, of “closing” the café last night. Tables and chairs, wiped down and straightened—check. Coffee carafes washed and draining on the back counter—check, check. And finally, the espresso machine, cleaned and ready for action—check, check and triple check.
The first shift, three kids on a busy Friday morning, was due to arrive soon. We unlocked the doors promptly at seven, and usually folks were there waiting to get their morning beverage of choice and bakery treat. I snagged my Chocolate Lab apron from its hook in the kitchen and got the day started.
I quietly closed my backyard gate, still smiling. As promised, I’d gone down to check on Pirate and Princess after the morning rush. I’d found them sleeping on their sides, facing each other, close as close could be, totally drenched.
Evidently, the kiddie pool had been a hit. It was a warm late summer day, and they’d dry soon enough. I’d refilled the water dish and scooped a poop or two. Now I was walking back to the Chocolate Lab to make my report on the doggy duo.
Trust me, Rafe. You didn’t need to worry about my pirate carrying off your princess.
When I stepped through the side door, the smells, sounds…and sights of roasting coffee ambushed me. With the machine going at full speed—probably on the fourth or fifth roast by now—the space had heated up. The roasting beans were releasing hot steam, fragrant with a sweet, nutty aroma. Sharp pops, like popping corn, also filled the roastery.
Rafe stood in the midst of it all, tatted skin glistening from the humidity and damp T-shirt sticking tight to his chest and biceps. Even his close-cut hair was slick.
He was listening to the “crack”—that popping sound that signaled the stage of the roast.
I gave myself a moment to steep in all that was this man. I wasn’t going to go there, since acting on this insta-pull was wrong on so many levels, yet I could soak up the moment.
After a few minutes, as the sounds changed, I edged around the room so I’d be in Rafe’s sight line. He didn’t startle when I gave my little wave, so he’d probably already sensed I was there. He nodded and started to wind the roasting process down.
Once it was quiet-ish, I launched into my updates, talking my usual mile a minute.
“So it looks like all is well in Doglandia. They ran, they swam, they dug—don’t worry, only a bit in my rose bed—they collapsed. Here’s a pic of them sleeping it off in the sun.” I handed my phone to Rafe so he could see my snap of Princess and Pirate lying by the kiddie pool.
“Hopefully, your girl will be dry by the time you’re ready to go home. If not, I’ll get you a towel to give her a rubdown.”
I paused, and Rafe handed my phone back and stared at me.
So I moved on with my updates. “Later today, my friend Lauren is flying in from California. I’m going to take off about two or so to pick her up at the airport. Mateo is coming in then for the rest of the day. In the meantime, if you need anything, just let me know. I can always free up one of the kids to fill coffee bags for the café or online orders. Oh, and please help yourself to any drinks, pastries or lunch—on the house, of course!”
Another pause, and this time, a barely visible chin lift from Rafe.
So I proceeded to my final update. And took a breath. “Pete may have shared with you that my mom passed away a few weeks ago.” No pause since I didn’t want to hear any condolences, and to his credit, Rafe didn’t open his mouth to offer any.
I plowed on. “We’re closing early tomorrow, around one, to get ready for Mom’s party later that afternoon. It’s just a party, not a memorial service or anything…formal or serious like that. We’re getting people together to enjoy her favorite things—lots of food, wine, coffee, drinks, dog stories, laughter, and singing, definitely singing.”
I did pause there, thinking of Mom and her love of all things Elvis.
“Anyway. Rafe, I told you all that to tell you this. If you’re planning on roasting tomorrow, could you possibly wrap it up by noonish? We need to set things up, bring in stuff, make food, decorate. You know, get ready for the party. We’ve got about seventy-five folks coming.”
I stopped to catch my breath and waited for Rafe to comment. It’d be fine if he only said “okay,” since he was a man of few words.
“Okay,” he said, as expected.
Then he added, “I could be your dogsbody.”