Chapter 4
Chapter Four
L eni juggled two gallon cartons of coffee and a box of pastries as she traversed the steps leading into the basement of the Presbyterian Church. It had been three days since she’d seen Chevy—and about three minutes since she’d last thought about him.
He hadn’t been back into the coffee shop or tried to reach out to her. Although, why would he after the way she’d kicked him out the last time he’d been there?
She should have been too busy to think about him. She’d been putting in long hours at Mountain Brew and helping her sister with the kids. Isabel had been up four times the night before, and the lack of sleep was getting to all of them.
But the whole reason she’d come back to Woodland Hills was to help her sister in her time of need. So, she’d gotten up early to take care of Izzy and get Max ready and given her sister a few extra hours to sleep before she’d left for work.
They’d been trying to hire another barista, but the application pool had been thin so far. Leni knew if the shop were taken care of, it would allow her sister to worry less and be able to just focus on Max and Izzy. Which was why she’d been trying to branch out the shop’s take-out services and making this delivery herself. She hoped the word would spread and more people would order coffee and pastries for their meetings and get-togethers.
This delivery was for the women of Knitty Gritty —a knitting circle that had been meeting in the church basement for as long as Leni could remember.
Walking down the stairs, she was overwhelmed with memories of spending so much time here as a kid. This had been the church she and her mom and Lorna had come to since they’d moved to Woodland Hills when she was twelve. She’d been surprised at the way they’d embraced a single mom with two young daughters, and this basement had been where she’d first met Chevy and his brothers. She remembered sitting next to the tall, skinny kid with the lock of dark hair—so different from his blond brothers—that always seemed to be falling into his eyes. She inhaled as she stepped into the room. It still smelled the same—old wood, dusty hymnals, worn carpet, and the lingering scents of past potlucks.
This is why she had avoided coming back to Woodland Hills. Everywhere she turned was a memory of the boy who had broken her heart.
Three round tables had been set up in the center of the room, piles of yarn and knitting bags with needles sticking out of their tops covered the middle of each. Sounds of laughter filled the room, and Leni was surprised that the number of women in the group had grown instead of dwindled and that there were quite a few younger women in the group as well.
She’d heard knitting was good for stress. Maybe she’d have to look into it.
Yeah, because she didn’t already have enough on her plate. She should for sure take up a needlework craft.
She recognized several of the older women sitting together at a large table near the kitchen. Ruby Foster, Greta Newton, and Mabel Turner were all in their eighties and pillars of their small-town community. The woman had been best friends most of their lives, along with Chevy’s grandmother, June, who had passed away several years before.
Grr. Now she was thinking about Chevy again . She couldn’t even deliver coffee to a bunch of old ladies without somehow connecting her thoughts back to that man.
“Hi Miss Ruby,” Leni said, pushing away the memories of the cute cowboy as she held up the cartons of coffee. “Where do you want these?”
“Well, I’ll be,” Ruby said, getting up from the table and coming around to hug her, which wasn’t an easy feat considering she was holding two gallons of coffee and a box of baked goods. “Eleanor Gibbs, how good to see you. I heard you were back in town. How’s Lorna doing?”
“Not back ,” she corrected. “Just here for a few weeks to help my sister. And she and the baby are doing great.”
“You tell her we’re all itching to cuddle that sweet baby, and we’ve got the nursery ready for Isabel when Lorna’s feeling up to coming back to church,” Greta said, her hands busy weaving yarn around two long knitting needles.
“You’re welcome to come with her,” Mabel added. “Whenever you like.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it. For now, I’d better just get this coffee set up for you all and get back to the shop.”
“You can take it into the kitchen,” Ruby told her. “We’ve got some trays already set up in there.”
She turned toward the kitchen. Then her mouth fell open as a tall dark-haired man, who had a frilly pink apron wrapped around his waist, walked out carrying a tray filled with white cups and small matching saucers.
Ruby leaned in to whisper, “Close your mouth, dear. Or you’re bound to catch flies.”
Leni snapped her mouth closed. Then opened it again to sputter, “What are you doing here?”
“It’s Thursday morning. I’m here for knitting club,” Chevy said, matter-of-factly as he set the tray on a rectangle table near her.
“You knit ?”
“Not very well,” Mabel said, pointing to a crumpled mass of yarn sitting next to a leather saddlebag. “He’s a bit hopeless when it comes to the knitting part—he’s been working on the same scarf for the past two years.”
“He’s better at frogging than knitting,” Greta added with a good-natured chuckle.
Leni stared at the bundle of blue yarn that in no way resembled a scarf. “Frogging?”
“It’s called frogging when you unravel or rip out stitches to fix a mistake,” Chevy explained. “You know, like rip it, rip it ,” he said, mimicking the sound made by a frog.
Leni just blinked at him. Was this really happening? She’d only seen Chevy once in the last decade, and now he was standing in front of her wearing a pink apron and croaking like a bull frog.
“But we wouldn’t get here at all if he didn’t pick us up every other Thursday and bring us to the church. He’s kind of like our Knitty Gritty mascot,” Mabel said.
“And we all usually have a list of things we need his help with once he drops us off,” Greta said. “Which reminds me, Chevy, honey, I think I accidentally signed out of Netflix again yesterday. Will you take a look at my remote this afternoon and see if you can fix it?”
Chevy ducked his head. “Of course, Miss Greta.”
“He takes pretty good care of us old gals,” Ruby said, then winked at Leni as she gestured toward the other tables. “And our group numbers have certainly risen since he’s been in attendance.”
Ah. It suddenly made sense why there were more younger women in the group. And Leni assumed most of them were single. And probably looking to catch a hunky bachelor who knitted and carted old ladies around after fixing their Netflix accounts.
“We’ve got plenty of yarn,” Ruby said, gesturing to the assorted colors of skeins on the table. “And we could always use another member, if you want to give it a try.”
Leni shook her head. “Thanks, but my fingers need the rest when they’re not clicking away at my computer keyboard. Or using my newfound barista skills. I just came by to personally deliver the coffee and baked goods and to say that I hope you think of Mountain Brew coffee for all your meetings and events.”
“We’re glad you called us,” Greta told her. “I didn’t even know you could buy coffee by the gallon, but we’re delighted to be able to support Lorna. We’d like to set this up as a regular thing and have coffee and pastries delivered to all our meetings.” She waved a hand toward Ruby. “You can fix it all up with Ruby. Our little club has plenty of dues to use, and she’s our self-designated treasurer.”
“That sounds amazing,” Leni said, thrilled that her idea would bring in a consistent sale for the coffee shop.
“I’ll call you later this week to iron out the details,” Ruby said, then gestured toward the kitchen. “For now, why don’t you and Chevy get us all set up, before that delicious smelling coffee gets cold.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chevy said, taking one of the cartons of coffee from her then holding the kitchen door open for Leni to walk through.
“Nice apron,” she told him as the door swung shut behind them, trying not to be distracted by that same shock of dark hair that still fell across his forehead.
He chuckled. “Thanks. I’m not sure pink is my best color, but those old gals sure get a kick out of it when I put this on. And it’s fun to make them laugh.”
“You always did like to be the center of attention.” Her tone was a little harsher than she’d intended.
Or was it?
It had been ten years. And they’d been in high school. She should be over it by now. But he’d broken her.
And apparently, she was still pissed.
“The curse of the middle child,” he agreed, flashing her a grin that once would have made her knees buckle—okay, so maybe it still made her knees a little wobbly—seemingly unfazed by her tone as he pointed to the two cut-glass serving plates and three white thermal carafes set up on a tray. “I can pour the coffee into the carafes if you want to arrange the baked goods. I’m no good at that. I usually just dump them on the plate.”
She set the box of pastries and the other gallon carton on the counter next to the trays. “It’s got a spigot on it, so they can just pour it right from the carton.”
“I know. But they kind of like the whole formal coffee set up. Then it seems like they’re having a tea party while they’re knitting. It’s their thing.” He unscrewed the lid and carefully poured coffee into the first carafe. “They’re all about tradition, so I’m kind of surprised they agreed to have coffee delivered. I’m glad it’s going to work out for Lorna to make this a regular thing though.”
“Me too. I wasn’t sure when I called them, but apparently, I can be pretty persuasive.”
He laughed. “I remember.”
She pulled her head back. “Why are you laughing?”
“I was just thinking about the time you talked the school librarian into letting us use the library for a silent disco during our lunch break as a way to make reading seem more cool.”
She smiled before she could stop herself. “That was a fun day. Remember how Colt James tried to teach us that coordinated line dance, but we were all listening to different songs?”
Chevy laughed again. “I’d forgotten about that. But I do remember him trying to sneak a goat into the dance and the librarian losing her mind. Remember she was trying to shoo it out with a broom, and it kept trying to eat the bristles?”
Leni cracked up. “She kept yelling, no goats in the library . And don’t let it eat the books. Goats love paper .” She held her stomach. “That was so funny. Did we ever figure out why Colt even had a goat at school?”
He shook his head, still laughing. “Who knows. But I’m not sure your idea convinced anyone to read more.”
“No, but it was worth a try,” she told him as their laughter died down.
“And it was hilarious.” He finished filling one of the carafes and screwed the lid down. “You always had fun ideas.”
She laughed again, but this time more wryly. “You and my sister were the only ones who ever thought any of my ideas were fun . Everyone else just thought I was a big nerd. Or never thought of me at all.”
He kept his gaze on the second carafe as he poured in the last of the liquid from the carton. “I thought about you all the time.”