35 Roxie
Roxie
Hallie and I ducked into our favorite little coffee shop together just down the street from our apartment.
The late evening rush was humming around us as baristas hurried behind the counter to make drinks.
The early spring air was giving people false hope of warmer days to come, bringing people out in droves.
Hallie ordered for both of us without even asking.
Years of getting coffee together meant we knew each other’s orders by heart.
By the time we slid into a booth with our flavored lattes, Hallie looked like she was itching to tell me something.
She wrapped her hands around her cup like she needed the warmth to hold in whatever secret was bubbling up.
“Spit it out,” I said, blowing across the foam of my latte. “Whatever you want to tell me. You’re vibrating like you’ve had three coffees already.”
Hallie smirked. “Okay, fine. I have an idea for our next project.”
I raised a brow. “A new restaurant?”
Hallie leaned in, lowering her voice like we were plotting some grand conspiracy. “Not exactly. I found something that’s far more interesting, I think. We’ll get to highlight not only food, but people.”
I sipped my latte, skeptical. “You’re being vague. Spill.”
She grinned, practically glowing with excitement.
“There’s this new place uptown. It’s kind of half-food bank, half-restaurant.
During the day it’s a food bank for families and people in need, then one night a week it transforms into this gorgeous, candlelit dining space. It just opened this past week.”
I blinked, taken by surprise. “That’s not what I expected, but it sounds completely unique.”
My mind was already working, thinking about the different angles and photos I could capture.
Hallie sat up straighter, her enthusiasm contagious. “Think about it. We cover good food, of course. But we make amazing stories out of the places we cover. This place is both. It’s innovative, it’s community-driven, and it’s still tied to the food scene. We can shine a light on something good.”
I traced the rim of my cup. “I’m not sure you have to work so hard to convince me,” I told her. “You had me at half-food bank and half-restaurant.”
Hallie’s smile widened, triumphant. “I knew you’d be in.
I’ve already been in contact with the director.
They are throwing a gala next weekend to raise money for the cause and have invited us to that as well.
But they would love for us to stop by the food bank this evening.
We can see the tail end of the day and the transition to the restaurant. ”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Of course, you’ve already started.”
“Of course I have,” she said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You think I’d come here vibrating out of my skin for something half-baked?”
“That’s debatable.” I took another sip of my latte, enjoying the rich bitterness. “What’s the catch? You always leave the catch for last.”
Hallie tilted her head, trying her best to keep her face natural. But she and I had known each other long enough for me to tell that she was keeping something from me. “Catch?”
I gave her a flat look. “Hallie.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Rox. I’m just excited about this one. That’s all.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, but she just took an exaggeratedly innocent sip of her latte, foam clinging to her lip. “You’re a terrible liar,” I muttered.
She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, unbothered. “Again. No idea what you’re talking about, Rox.”
“I don’t believe you. But fine. When do you want to go?” I asked.
Her smile broke wide again. Probably just happy that I was going along with it. “I told them we’d be there by six tonight. Gives us just enough time to see the food bank in action before the switchover.”
I arched a brow. “So basically, now.”
Hallie had the decency to wince. “I may have already called us a cab.”
“Of course you did.” I slid out of the booth with a groan, latte still in hand. “You’re lucky I love you.”
She hooked her arm through mine as we walked toward the door. “You’ll thank me when you’re holding a Pulitzer-worthy photo of this place in your hands.”
“Well, now it makes sense why you told me to bring my camera with me.”
Hallie tugged me along through the chill of the early evening. “Exactly. And don’t worry, you’re going to have plenty of subjects. People, food, the complete transformation. I can’t wait for you to see it.”
My brow furrowed. “You act as if you already have.”
Instead of answering, Hallie dove into the cab idling on the curb, waiting for us. Come to think of it, she had been a lot busier recently. I’d assumed she was just hanging out with James, but maybe there was something else going on too.
The cab’s engine purred to life as we sped through the streets, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and white through the window. Hallie’s excitement was nearly overwhelming. So much so that I leaned forward, peering out at every passing building, imagining the story waiting for us.
I tightened my grip on my camera bag as the cab grew closer to uptown and our eventual destination.
The city’s roar intensified, a symphony of honking horns and screeching brakes.
A thick haze of exhaust fumes, mingled with the sweet scent of street food, filled the air.
My pulse quickened with a mix of anticipation and apprehension, like it always did right before we walked through the doors of our next project.
Hallie kept sneaking glances at me, her grin tugging at the corners of her mouth like she was holding back something bigger than just a pitch for our business.
“You’re staring,” I said without looking at her.
“I’m just … excited,” she replied, her eyes darting back out her window. “You’re going to love this place, Rox. It’s everything we’ve been talking about wanting to cover for the blog. Bigger than just food or a new trendy hotspot. This is something that will really matter to the city.”
The cab slowed to a stop in front of a wide brick building with tall arched windows glowing with warm amber light.
From the outside, it didn’t look like a typical food bank, or a restaurant, or even a place that could be both.
But the energy was undeniable. People streamed out with paper bags and boxes, volunteers in aprons waving them off with wide smiles.
My stomach flipped. I knew this place. I’d stopped right here all those weeks ago, staring at the construction progress and scaffolding with Nate Demarco.
I’d ended things between us a few weeks back.
I’d simply said it wouldn’t work out between us, that we wanted different things from life and he’d agreed.
Hallie hadn’t said the name of the food bank earlier, but even if she had, I wasn’t sure my mind would have connected it with this place.
Now it was alive. Breathing. Bright, full, and teeming with humanity and joy.
Hallie was already halfway out of the cab, tugging at my sleeve like an impatient kid on Christmas morning as she pulled me out after her.
“Who did you say owned this?” I asked Hallie as I stared up at the signage and the revitalized building.
She paused on the sidewalk; her hand still looped through mine. “Oh, I can’t remember their name,” she said, her voice a touch higher than I thought was normal. “Come on, let’s get inside before they hand out the last bags for the evening. We don’t want to miss that.”
Hallie all but dragged me through the door, past the last of the volunteers waving goodbye to families with arms full of brown paper bags.
The smell inside was richer than anything I’d expected—garlic, roasting vegetables, warm spices.
The scents that belonged in one of the fancier places we’d reviewed, not a food bank.
My camera was already out of its bag; the strap looped around my neck as I began taking in everything I could to determine the best angles.
A woman in a flour-dusted apron noticed us hovering near the entry. Her face broke into a smile, tired but kind. “Hey, Hallie,” clearly, this wasn’t the first time my best friend had been here. “And you must be Roxie, right?”
“That’s right,” Hallie greeted her.
The woman stuck out her hand, but before she could say more, Hallie quickly rushed in. “Why don’t you tell us about the process here? We’d love to capture the end of the day before the changeover begins.”
The apron woman blinked, then nodded warmly. “Of course. We’ve just finished distributing the last of today’s provisions. Over five hundred families came through today alone. It’s more than we’ve ever had yet. Seb—”
“Wonderful,” Hallie cut in, her smile bright but firm, steering her away before the woman could get another word out. “Why don’t you show Rox around while I take a few notes?”
I frowned, but the volunteer was already ushering me into the kitchen.
Stainless steel counters gleamed, pots clanged, and a group of teens in matching aprons scrubbed pans with soapy sponges.
I lifted my camera and began snapping a few pictures—hands passing loaves of bread down a line, a boy sneaking a grin at the girl beside him, the steam curling above a pot of soup being prepared for dinner.
The images came alive on my display screen, each one telling its own quiet story of giving.
Someone quickly shut the doors as the last family exited the building so the magic could begin.
Shelves were wheeled back against the walls, to be replaced with round tables that were quickly covered with linen cloths.
They lit the candles as they set the dinner plates and placed polished silverware with the menu for tonight’s meal.
I snapped a photo of the simple logo at the top of the menu.
The East Side Table.
I raised my camera again, catching the blurred hands of workers swapping one world for another in a matter of minutes.
Hallie reappeared at my side, practically vibrating again. “What did I tell you? Magic.”
“It truly is,” I agreed. “Whoever came up with this idea was a genius. It’s innovative.”
People began filtering in soon after they reopened the doors.
Some families had young children clinging to their hands.
Couples leaned into each other with shy smiles.
Elderly neighbors steadied one another as they crossed the threshold.
Everyone’s eyes went wide as they took in the flickering candles and the scent of something roasted and decadent wafting from the kitchen.
A waiter ushered us to spots at one of the tables, mentioning something about the owner wanting us to have the full experience for our review. A couple in their late twenties sat across from us, holding hands like they were tethered. Their silver wedding bands glinted in the candlelight.
“Are you two celebrating something tonight?” Hallie asked lightly.
“Our wedding,” the man told us softly. “We were married two years ago today.”
A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. “Happy anniversary to you both.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, her voice catching just a little. She looked back at her husband with a tenderness that seemed to soften the surrounding candlelight.
Something in my chest tugged. I lifted my camera, catching the way their hands remained linked on the table even as servers placed steaming plates before them.
That single connection—two people holding onto each other as the world gave them a moment of grace—felt like this entire place wrapped in one frame.
The more I clicked, the more I realized this wasn’t like any other assignment Hallie and I had taken on. It was families celebrating milestones they might not otherwise afford to celebrate and neighbors laughing together over bread still warm from the oven.
I lowered my camera, letting myself simply take it all in with my own eyes rather than from behind the lens.
The soft shuffle of servers. The warm hum of conversation.
The glow of the candles reflected in the tall arched windows.
My throat tightened unexpectedly, and I glanced at Hallie, who was watching me with that satisfied smirk she always got when she knew I was hooked.
“You love it,” she stated, sipping her wine.
“I do,” I admitted, almost breathless. “It’s perfect. Whoever came up with this deserves every award in the book. We should interview the owner.”
Hallie hesitated, her wineglass pausing mid-air. “He isn’t here tonight,” she told me. “But he invited us to the gala next weekend. We should get to meet him there.”
I studied her for a beat. Something wasn’t adding up with Hallie’s vagueness tonight, but the magic of the place was too strong to press her just yet.
But The East Side Table was unlike anything I’d ever seen, and for the first time in months, I felt the spark of inspiration catch fire inside me.
So I let myself enjoy the evening without questioning Hallie.
I leaned back in my chair, letting the atmosphere soak into my bones. “Fine,” I said, smiling faintly. “But whoever the guy is, I can’t wait to meet him.”
Hallie just lifted her glass once more, her grin a shade too triumphant. “Trust me, Rox. You won’t be disappointed.”