Chapter 5
Beth’s café sits between the funeral home and a boarded-up retail space that looks like it used to be an ice cream parlor.
It has a small front door and a large square window that reveals wooden countertops and a complicated-looking coffee machine.
It’s nice. But cramped. The room isn’t particularly large and, as well as the counter at the front, there are bookshelves to the left of the entrance, with no indication of whether it’s a shop or a library.
A corner at the back seems to have been cordoned off for a yoga studio, and an abandoned slushie machine takes up a chunk of wall space next to a unisex toilet.
The only place to sit is at a brightly painted bench that looks awkward to climb in and out of.
It should be charming on paper. A multiuse space for the village, a cute little coffee shop that locals will love and tourists can discover. Instead, one glance inside tells me it doesn’t know what it is yet. It’s too busy. Just not with customers.
In fact, the place is empty except for a twenty-something girl behind the counter, scrolling through her phone.
Her bleached-blond hair is scraped back into a bun, revealing dark roots and a multitude of glinting piercings in her ears.
She brightens when I enter but that quickly diminishes when Beth comes in after me.
“This is Ollie,” Beth announces cheerfully. “Our barista.”
At the sight of her boss, Ollie reaches toward the coffee machine as if to wipe it down or fill something up only to realize that there’s nothing to do.
“Do you want anything?” Beth asks, rounding the counter. “It’s on the house.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say as Ollie’s eyes flick to Beth in a silent protest. “I’ll pay. I’ll take a double espresso.”
A little mollified, Ollie starts up the machine.
“All our cups are one hundred percent compostable,” Beth says over the noise. “And the coffee is Fairtrade certified. Napkin. Loyalty card…” She lists off each item as she places them on the counter. “Your tenth one is free. That will be three eighty-five.”
Three… “Great.” I glance at the prices overhead. This place is expensive. Especially for Clonard. But I hand over the few euros Louise gave me that morning (“Wouldn’t want you to be stuck for the bus again,” she’d muttered only a little sarcastically) and drop another into the tip jar.
“And this is my big blue binder,” Beth says, taking out a messily indexed folder. Labels of varying colors and sizes stick out and I watch as one loose piece of paper slips free as she dumps it on the counter.
“I have a marketing plan in here somewhere,” she mutters as my fingers itch to grab it from her and organize it. Or possibly burn it. I know some people find order in chaos but… yikes. “I was even working on a job description. Do you have any social media experience?”
I think of my defunct Facebook page and the Instagram account I set up so Jess could stalk an ex. “Yes.”
Ollie hands me the espresso and I sip the bitter liquid as a door slams somewhere above.
“My landlord,” Beth explains as footsteps sound loudly on a staircase opposite me. “He lives in the apartment overhead.”
That must be calming during yoga class.
“Maybe you can tell me a bit about the business,” I say, distracted as even more pages spill free from her binder. “Or I could—”
“Beth?”
I still at the familiar voice, watching as two long legs appear halfway down the staircase.
Oh no.
“I called Harry about Wednesday and he said—” Luke breaks off when he catches sight of me, bumping his head off the low ceiling as he stops two steps from the bottom.
“Ouch,” Beth says as Ollie snorts. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead.
“It sounded—”
“I’m fine.”
I smile weakly as he frowns at me.
“Hello,” I say when he doesn’t. If he can’t get it together then I will. “You didn’t tell me you owned a café.”
Beth straightens from where she’s hunched over the counter. “You’ve already met?”
“We live next door to each other,” I explain. “Or we used to.”
“That’s crazy!”
“The craziest,” I agree.
Luke ducks his head as he skips the final steps, landing with a thump on the polished concrete. His eyes drop immediately to the diamond on my finger, but his expression doesn’t change, even when I hide my hand behind my back on instinct.
“He doesn’t own it,” Beth continues. “I do. But he owns the building and lets me rent it on the cheap.”
“Until you start making your millions,” Luke says, heading to the counter. “I thought I dumped that thing in the river,” he adds, gesturing to the binder.
“Very funny. Abby’s interested in the marketing job.”
“What marketing job?”
“The one you told me I should set up so I can get more customers.” She sounds exasperated. “You’re grumpy today.”
And I can guess why. “You know what? Now that I think about it, I probably won’t have time for something like this.”
“But I thought you said—”
“There’s no point in hiring someone who’s going to leave us high and dry in two weeks,” Luke interrupts, his voice firm.
Ollie glances between us while pretending to type into her phone.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I say, my friendly tone beginning to strain.
“That’s your plan, isn’t it? Back to your fiancé?”
I stare at him. Okay, so he’s still mad at me. That’s fine. I’d be mad at him too if I was all knee-touching and sly-glancing and it turned out he was engaged. Only I’m not engaged. I’m just lying to everyone about it. Which is fine.
I mean it’s not fine. It’s the opposite of fine. But—
“You’re engaged ?” Beth gasps, clasping her hands together. “I didn’t even notice the ring. Ollie, did you see the ring?”
Ollie shakes her head.
“She’s just visiting,” Luke says.
“She told me that.” Beth rolls her eyes. “But we only need someone to start us off. Then Ollie can take over.”
Ollie looks at Beth with an expression that tells me she will be doing nothing of the sort.
“Do you even have marketing experience?” Luke asks me and I feel a sharp spike of annoyance at his tone.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Are you the owner or the landlord?”
“I’m a friend,” Luke says. “And we don’t need the help.”
I do a pointed sweep of the empty café. “You sure about that?”
Shit.
I feel terrible as soon as I say it, even more so when Beth’s mouth pops open, her lips forming a little hurt o .
“Nice,” Luke says, turning back to Beth. “You want to hire her? Be my guest.”
Oh, for the love of— “I don’t even want the damn job,” I snap. “I was being polite.”
Shut up , Abby.
Beth looks crestfallen. Luke looks furious. Ollie looks like she’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“I didn’t mean that,” I say after an awkward beat. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Beth says. “We’re new and I guess I haven’t had the chance to—”
“It’s not that,” I say quickly. “Luke’s right. I won’t be staying around long. You should hire someone who can commit.”
Luke huffs at the last word and it takes all my willpower not to glare at him. I tell myself I don’t care. Let him think what he wants to.
Instead, I try my best to focus on Beth. “I think you have a lovely space here. Really. Small communities like this can be hard to break into but you’ll win them over. It just takes time. Plus it will be tourist season soon, so rack up those online reviews and you’ll be flying.”
I knock back the rest of my espresso and slip the cup into my bag.
“Compostable,” I say, patting it. “I’ll have to tell my sister.”
Beth looks miserable, but maybe for a different reason now. “Abby—”
“I’ll swing by tomorrow,” I say. “Try one of those pastries.”
“Okay,” she says quietly.
Luke just looks at me. Ollie is back on her phone.
“It was really nice to meet you,” I say finally, and walk as quickly as I can out the door.
“You’re on mute, Dad.”
I keep my smile on my face as he searches for the right button, my mother frowning unhelpfully beside him.
I’m sitting on my bed, using Louise’s laptop to video-call them.
The machine itself is a heavy industrial thing that’s already starting to heat up from the strain of having to turn on, and I slide a plastic tray under it, not wholly convinced it won’t set the duvet on fire.
“I can’t hear you,” I say as Mam’s mouth moves. “You’re going to have to—”
“—said you look very pale.” I quickly turn the volume down as her voice blasts through the speakers. “Are you taking enough zinc?”
“Probably not, no.”
“You should take more zinc.”
“I’ll get some. Dad?”
“What?” Dad’s eyes snap back to me from where they’d been drifting to the iPad on his lap.
“Are you playing solitaire?”
A brief pause. “No.”
“Well, could you continue not playing solitaire so you can pay attention to your youngest child? Mam?”
I watch as she takes the iPad from him, tucking it in between her and the armrest of the sinking white couch in their living room.
Warm sunlight shines through a window to the left of her, the only indication of where they are.
Otherwise it’s like they could walk through my bedroom door at any moment.
The thought of it makes my heart hurt. I’d avoided their calls when I lost my job, only sending them a few carefully worded texts to let them know I was okay.
I couldn’t bring myself to talk to them.
Even though I knew it was ridiculous, the whole thing felt like my fault.
Like if only I’d chosen another company or I’d worked a little harder, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
“It’s nice of you to finally call us,” Mam says. She leans toward the screen, still examining me. “A week after you landed.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Louise said you were delayed getting back. You shouldn’t travel so late without a clear plan, Abby. You’re supposed to be the organized one.”
“Well, it’s a little hard when… Dad!” I snap as his attention drifts again. “Put your phone down.”
“I’m just checking the headlines,” he says, defensively.