Chapter 5
5
Bren pushed through the door of Bev’s Book Nook to the tinkle of wind chimes, pausing on the threshold to give the eclectic interior a quick scan.
The two cushioned rattan wicker swivel chairs beside the flat-topped, Moroccan-motif trunk were empty, and no one was hovering in front of the popular community bulletin board that attracted a steady parade of residents.
Not that Bev Price needed gimmicks to generate traffic. With her gregarious nature and welcoming manner, people gravitated toward her like flies to honey.
“I’ll be right with you.”
As the owner’s cheery greeting floated from the back room, Bren ambled across the shop and helped herself to a homemade gooey butter cookie from the always-stocked jar on the counter.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, but I was—”
Bev halted as she pushed through the swinging door that separated the shop from the office and stockroom. Threw out her arms and beamed a megawatt smile. “I love it!”
“Really?” Bren touched her hair. After her DIY dye job, a stylist had helped her complete the dramatic change, but it would take a while to get used to her new do.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Bev continued forward in a swirl of jasmine perfume, took her hand, and tugged her toward the jewelry case, where she positioned her in front of the mirror on the wall. “A whole new look to launch a whole new decade. Bravo to you!”
Bren examined her image.
Gone were the rainbow locks and gelled spikes she’d sported for the past four years.
In their place were fluffed, honey-brown tresses with a faint hint of her favorite color. The new style was softer. Less biker-girl flamboyant. Still too short to achieve the full effect she was after, but time would take care of that.
“The look may be new, but I’m still the same person inside.”
“True. But we all grow and learn and become with every passing year. Including yours truly.” Bev winked at her. “And changing things up now and then keeps life interesting. No one knows that better than me. I’ve lived more lives than a cat.”
Bren smiled at the upbeat, energetic woman behind her in the mirror, who always brimmed with enthusiasm and a sense of adventure.
What a godsend—and inspiration—Bev had been in the nine months since the woman had moved to town and opened her shop. One glimpse at her flowing salt-and-pepper locks livened up with a vibrant swath of color—fuchsia being this month’s choice—and her flamboyant attire, like today’s tropical-themed caftan featuring giant birds of paradise and parrots, and it had been obvious they were kindred spirits.
The icing on the cake?
The bookshop owner was a fabulous listener, with keen insights and amazing empathy.
Bren’s smile broadened.
Who could have guessed that a woman almost twice her age would end up being the best friend she’d ever had?
“I figured a milestone birthday was a good excuse to make a few changes.” She smoothed back a stray lock.
“Or start a new chapter, like the sign in my display window says. It’s never too late for that, either. Look at me. I’m closing in on sixty, and here I am the proud owner of a bookstore in my retirement. You never know what exciting opportunities lie ahead. And speaking of excitement, you had more than your share yesterday with that fire. I’m glad Fred stepped in and came to your rescue. You sleep okay last night in your temporary digs?”
Bren took a bite of her cookie, but the sugary treat didn’t sweeten her memories of the pepper gel fiasco. “Not especially.”
“I hear you.” Bev gave a sympathetic nod. “It can take a while to adjust to new surroundings.”
“It wasn’t that.”
Bev’s eyebrows peaked. “Do I detect a story there?”
“Yes—and not a pleasant one.”
“Uh-oh. If the arrangement with Fred isn’t working out, you’re welcome to hang out at my apartment until you find another place to stay. My couch isn’t designed for long-term snoozing, but it’ll do the job in a pinch.”
Bren’s throat constricted.
How had she lucked out and landed in a town with such generous, caring people?
“Thank you for that offer, but the cottage is fine. More than fine. However, I had an unexpected visitor last night.”
As she told Bev the story of Noah’s arrival, the bookstore owner’s eyes rounded, and she eased onto a stool behind the counter. “Oh my.”
“Yeah.” Bren massaged the bridge of her nose. “I’m assuming it was a surprise visit, or else Fred would have told him I was staying there. But his father wasn’t the only one surprised by his arrival.”
“What happened wasn’t your fault, though. I hope Fred’s son understood that.”
“I’m not sure he did last night, but when I saw him this morn ing on my run to the lighthouse, I didn’t pick up any lingering irritation.” Bren finished off her cookie.
Bev’s eyebrows shot up again. “You took Pelican Point Road on day one of your new fitness regimen? I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. It was an epic fail.” She grimaced. “I ran out of steam long before I got to the lighthouse. The route never seemed that steep from inside my car.”
Bev chuckled. “I felt the same way once on a weeklong bicycle trip I took in my younger days. I thought I was going to die half an hour in.”
“I had the same thought while I was panting on the side of the road. That’s how Noah found me. I tried to be cool, but he noticed my virgin shoes, did the math, and suggested the route may have been a tad too ambitious for a running newbie.”
“You can work up to it, though—unless you decide running doesn’t suit you. There are other ways to stay fit, you know.”
“I know, but I’ve already invested in the shoes. I’m not giving up.”
“Hurray for you. Persistence and determination pay off.” Bev reached beneath the jewelry case and withdrew a small square package wrapped in bright paper. “I was going to deliver this later today. A belated birthday present. I didn’t want to bring it to the party at The Perfect Blend yesterday in case any of the other guests noticed and felt awkward about arriving empty-handed.” She set the package on the counter between them.
Once again, Bren’s windpipe constricted. “You didn’t have to do that, Bev.”
“Of course I did. Thirtieth birthdays only come around once. Go ahead, open it.”
Bren picked up the small package and slowly peeled off the tape. Folded back the wrapping paper. Lifted the lid on the box.
“Wow.” The word came out hushed as she stared down at the beautiful teardrop earrings. “You made these, didn’t you?”
“Yes. From imperial jasper. A perfect stone for you.”
“They’re exquisite.” She let out a slow breath as she cradled the box in her palm. “But I can’t take such a valuable present.” At the prices Bev charged for the in-demand creations she sold online and in her shop, these would bring in a pretty penny.
“Yes, you can. You’re worth it. Besides, I made them for you. They’ll be gorgeous with your peridot studs.”
Bren touched one of her birthstone earrings, a gift to herself on her twenty-fifth birthday.
But they hadn’t cost anywhere near the price Bev could command for her work.
“Let me at least pay for the materials.”
“Nonsense. A gift is a gift.” Bev leaned across the counter and stroked a finger down one of the multicolored stones that glistened in the light. “I’m not a new-ager, but I wish for you all this stone represents—stability, comfort, security, strength, wholeness, and peace.”
Bren’s vision misted. “I don’t know what to say.”
A dimple appeared in the other woman’s cheek. “Thank you would be appropriate.”
After a moment, Bren replaced the lid and pressed the box to her chest. It was important to remember that not all generosity came with a price tag or an expectation of something in return. Like rigid conformity to a strict set of rules designed to prop up an illusion. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
The chimes jingled, and Bren glanced around as an unfamiliar couple entered. Tourists, no doubt.
“I’ll let you see to your customers.” She stowed the small box in the pocket of her jacket.
“Come by again soon. I want an update on your running progress.” Bev rounded the case again and pulled her into a warm hug.
“Count on it.” Bren squeezed back.
On her way to the door, she stopped beside the woman who was examining a shelf of books. “You should check out the jewelry counter while you’re here. It’s all handmade by the owner and absolutely beautiful.”
The customer smiled. “Thanks. I do have a birthday coming up.” She nudged her companion.
He grinned and took her arm. “Message received. Let’s see if anything catches your fancy.”
While they wandered over to Bev, who led them to the jewelry case, Bren slipped out. Initiating a sale might help salve her conscience about taking such an expensive gift.
But much as she loved the earrings, the real gift had been the thought behind it.
And that was priceless.
So instead of lamenting over all that had gone wrong on her big three-oh birthday, she was going to focus on everything that had gone right—and hope Bev’s wishes for her, represented by the imperial jasper earrings, came to pass in this new decade of her life.
This was the place—and he was more than ready for a potent infusion of caffeine.
Laptop in hand, Noah stopped outside The Perfect Blend to read the handwritten quote from Yogi Berra on the A-frame dry-erase board positioned near the entrance.
When you come to a fork in the road, take it.
His lips flexed.
Cute, if not definitive. A fork in the road should be carefully considered, as Robert Frost had said in one of his poems.
Although, as the poet had also noted, sometimes it was hard to know which one to take.
Noah moved aside to let a couple pass by on the sidewalk.
Fortunately, indecision had never been a problem for him. No forks had come along to tempt him from the path he’d laid out long ago, after thorough deliberation and meticulous planning.
He continued to the door of the shop and pushed through, pausing inside to give the space a once-over.
Small tables were tucked against the walls and around the free-standing fireplace in the middle, beckoning customers to linger. Poster-sized nature photos provided a restful ambiance. The soothing neutral palette beckoned.
No wonder the shop was packed.
His father’s recommendation had been spot-on.
It would have been helpful if Dad had been able to join him so he could have continued his relocation campaign, but finding an empty slot on his father’s packed calendar was tough. Dad had hightailed it out of the house at the crack of dawn for a standing Friday golf date with a retired mail carrier he’d befriended.
Noah blew out a breath.
Eventually he’d corner his father and have a serious discussion about a move. But for now, he may as well take advantage of the shop’s peaceful, chill-out vibe while he caught up on email and got an update on yesterday’s crisis at work.
Unless Dad’s tenant was on duty.
Given how the air around her crackled, creating chaos rather than calm in his psyche, being in her presence would not be restful.
As far as he could tell, though, only two people were staffing the shop. A tall dark-haired guy who appeared to be mid- to late-thirties, and a woman with honey-brown hair farther down the counter, nothing but her back visible as she worked the espresso machine.
There were no rainbow-hued locks in sight.
Good.
The less he saw of Bren, the better. No sense putting yourself in an uncomfortable position if you could avoid it.
“Morning.”
At the greeting, he shifted toward the dark-haired guy. “Good morning.”
“Welcome to The Perfect Blend. Have a look at the menu and food offerings while you’re in line.” He motioned to the bill of fare on the wall behind him and swept a hand over the glass display case in front.
“Thanks.”
As Noah joined the queue of customers, he gave the list of drinks his full attention. More variety than expected from a small-town coffee shop—including café viennois and café de olla—but it was safer to stick with the tried and true. Why take a chance on something new that could disappoint you?
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Friday mornings can be busy here, especially in the summer.” The guy positioned himself in front of the register. “What would you like?”
“An Americano with an extra shot of espresso and a piece of that.” He pointed to a tray containing a sweet bread.
“Excellent choice. The cranberry nut cake is from Harbor Point Cranberries south of town. For here or to go?”
“Here.”
The guy behind the counter plated a slice of the loaf cake, added a fork, and set it on the counter while Noah dug out his credit card and canvassed the tables.
All of them were occupied.
But the two people at one near the fireplace were gathering up the remnants of their treat, as if preparing to leave.
The instant he finished paying, Noah pocketed his card and picked up his cake. “Thanks.”
“Enjoy. Can I have a name for your drink?”
He tossed it over his shoulder as he made a beeline for the table, beating out an older couple on the same mission and avoiding eye contact with them as he staked his claim. Maybe aggressive tactics would be regarded as poor form in laid-back Hope Harbor, but as experience had taught him, tables in popular coffee shops went to customers who were observant and speedy.
After settling into his seat, he opened his laptop and took a bite of his cake while he waited for the computer to boot up.
Delicious.
If all the offerings in the case were as—
Noah frowned as he caught the brown-haired woman behind the counter watching him.
As soon as she realized he’d noticed her, she swung away, her multicolored earrings glistening in the overhead light.
He frowned.
Why would a stranger stare at him?
Except ... as she went about her task, giving him an occasional glimpse of her profile, she seemed somehow familiar.
“Americano for Noah.”
The woman’s voice carried over the hum of conversation in the shop, and he peered at her as she angled sideways to place a lidded cup on the pickup counter.
Was that Bren?
No. It couldn’t be.
Could it?
Maybe.
But what had happened to her rainbow hair?
Leaving his laptop and the rest of his cake behind, he rose and crossed to the counter.
The closer he got, the more certain he was of her identity.
And her greeting confirmed it.
“Hi, Noah.” She offered him a smile that felt artificial. Like she was uncomfortable with this meeting too. “Did you enjoy your run to the lighthouse yesterday?”
“Um, yeah. I did. Great view.” He picked up his cup. “Sorry it took me a minute to recognize you.”
“No worries. I’ve thrown a few people for a loop today. I have to admit, I shock myself whenever I pass a mirror. This is quite a change.” She patted her hair.
“Uh, yeah.” Compared to her previous flamboyant look, her new image was downright sedate.
Other than a faint purple cast to the golden-brown color.
Or could the light be playing tricks on him?
He squinted at her.
Hard to tell. But from where he stood, there did seem to be a purple-hued undertone to—
“Well ...” Bren adjusted her apron, a faint flush tinting her cheeks. “The orders are piling up. If you want cream, it’s over there.” She waved toward a small stand off to the side, swiveled around, and went back to work.
Oops.
His rude gaping had rattled her.
But trying to reconcile the Bren of the hot-pink sleep shirt, psychedelic leggings, and multicolored spikes with the hazel-eyed, honey-haired beauty behind the counter was a challenge. Even with that faint purple aura around her head.
Should he have complimented her on her new image ... or would that have insulted her by suggesting he hadn’t liked the old one?
Who knew?
Women were an enigma.
Noah turned away and crossed to the stand. Opened his coffee and tipped in a generous amount of half-and-half to dilute the dark brew.
This was why it was prudent to avoid interacting with eligible members of the opposite sex. Even in simple conversations, it was too easy to put your foot in your mouth, bruise feelings, or inadvertently suggest you had a deeper interest than you did and thereby create expectations and encourage assumptions that came back to bite you.
Candace being a case in point.
He retook his seat.
Speaking of assumptions ...
Maybe Bren wasn’t eligible. While she seemingly lived alone, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a man in her life. For all he knew, she could be engaged. Perhaps to a guy who sported a mohawk and was covered with tats.
Although that kind of dude didn’t fit her new look.
Why had she changed her image, anyway? And who was the real Bren Ryan?
As questions swirled through his mind, Noah took a swig of coffee and glowered at his computer screen.
Enough about Bren. Thirty-six hours ago, he hadn’t even known the woman. The only reason she kept traipsing through his brain was because people like her rarely entered his orbit—and that gave her a certain intriguing appeal.
What other explanation could there be?
But he could erase her from his mind. No problem. All he had to do was connect to the secure server at work and dive into numbers.
That, however, was easier said than done. As it turned out, The Perfect Blend was a Wi-Fi-free environment. Which was fine if you were on a vacation that allowed you to leave work behind.
He wasn’t.
Tamping down his annoyance, he drummed his fingers on the table.
He could use his phone as a hot spot, but in all likelihood the connection would be slow as molasses in a town this size. Plus, it would eat up his battery.
He’d have to go back to his father’s house and work there.
And maybe that would be more prudent, anyway. It was hard to focus with Bren across the room. The few times their gazes had connected had left him flustered and on edge. Not a mental state conducive to concentration.
So he finished his Americano and cranberry nut cake, packed up his computer, and exited the shop, keeping his eyes pointed straight ahead as he passed the counter.
Once outside, he filled his lungs, slowly exhaled, and walked away from The Perfect Blend, leaving thoughts of Bren behind.
Out of sight, out of mind, after all.
He hoped.