Chapter 7
seven
T he heady aroma of roasted beans and some kind of hot pastry wafted from the Chug a Mug. The coffee shop was situated across the street and two doors down from the Magnolia Blossom, which Noah figured Elisa would appreciate. As soon as they wrapped up this first clue, she could head to work.
And he could get back to the inn and finish planning his way through this mold fiasco.
He started to open the coffee shop door.
“Hold on.” Elisa’s hand snaked around Noah’s bicep and tugged him back a few steps.
He tensed, an electric current pulsing from his upper arm down into his fingers. That was the second time she’d touched him today, and the second time he’d felt the contact straight through his sleeve and into his soul.
“What?” Hadn’t he said they were in a hurry? He’d also said they needed to lay low, and her holding onto him like this was definitely not keeping a subtle profile.
Yet none of those facts made him shrug out of her grip.
She leaned in, her voice a tense whisper as her gaze raked the tinted windows. “We don’t know the weather report.”
“Warm. Partially cloudy.” He gestured with his free arm to the sky, where the evidence shined above them.
“That’s not what I meant.” She released him and shoved her sunglasses up into her hair. The abrupt motion only highlighted the dimple in her cheek, which once upon a time he’d used as target practice for his lips.
He stepped aside as a handful of teenagers, obviously not concerned about the weather, hurried inside the coffee shop. “Then what are you talking about? I’ve been here before.” Once. The brew hadn’t been great, but then again, he had been too busy with his to-do list to care.
She gestured over her shoulder toward the building they were still not entering, and he still didn’t know why. “You’ve got to know the weather report before you order.”
He pointedly looked up at the clouds drifting in front of the sun.
“It’s code.” She waved one hand, directing her gaze back to him. “The barista, Miley Mitchell, is the owner’s daughter. But Mr. Mitchell is always traveling. He owns a bunch of other businesses…anyway, she’s in charge, and her moods affect the coffee.”
He scoffed. “That’s crazy.”
“That’s Magnolia Bay.” Elisa lifted one slim shoulder in a shrug.
“No, I mean, that’s scientifically impossible. One wouldn’t affect the other.”
She squinted at him. “You’ve never heard of cookin’ with love?”
“Of course. But that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“Well, in Miley’s case, it’s the opposite.”
Noah sighed. “We’re wasting time.”
“Suit yourself.” Elisa tossed her hair back and reached for the door, catching it as Sadie Whitlock exited.
“Hey.” Sadie’s gaze darted curiously between the two of them before she smiled at Noah, tucking a thick book under her arm. “How is that old inn shaping up?”
He dipped his head. “It’s getting there.” Sadie had been in her late teens when he’d first accompanied Grandpa to Second Story in his youth, and was often there, helping her aunt with the store. Seeing her now up close, it was impossible to disconnect her from the memories of his grandfather.
From the doorway behind Sadie, Elisa quirked one eyebrow at him, her expression clearly reading I thought you were in a hurry.
He was. But Sadie was still talking. “I know I saw you at the memorial service, and we didn’t get a chance to speak yesterday at the diner, but I wanted to express my condolences again for your loss.” She tilted her head, her curly brown hair brushing across the knotted straps of her brightly patterned sundress. “Your grandfather is very missed.”
An unexpected ball of emotion rose in his throat. Noah swallowed. “I appreciate it. I know he enjoyed your family’s store.”
Sadie’s friendly gaze softened as she adjusted the hold on her novel. “You should stop by—for old times’ sake.”
“I don’t have a lot of spare time for reading right now, with the renovation.” Noah reached to take the weight of the door Elisa still held open. “But I’ll try.”
“Of course. See you around.” Sadie dipped her head in acknowledgment of Elisa as she turned to leave, polite but distant. If Sadie’s family had been friendly to Grandpa all those years, it only made sense they’d be cooler to the Heberts. It was the Magnolia way.
Noah gestured for Elisa to go inside. Now they could get started.
But Elisa stepped back out of the shop, raising one arm after Sadie, who had already moved several paces down the sidewalk. “Wait!”
Sadie turned at her call, her brows arched.
Elisa darted a glance at the tinted window of the coffee shop. “Weather report?”
Noah suppressed a sigh.
But Sadie smiled, her green eyes softening as she leaned in and whispered, “ Very cloudy.”
“Perfect.” Elisa gave her a little wave. “Thanks.”
He gave up trying to figure it out and joined Elisa in the short line extending from the cash register. The whir of an espresso machine and the aroma of freshly ground beans filled Noah’s senses, mingling with the low hum of chatter from the patrons scattered around the cozy space. Everything was black, silver, or brass—the high serving counter, the coffee tables situated around oversized chairs, the light fixtures. The far wall appeared to be a giant chalkboard, filled with various scribbles and quotes from patrons. Something else he hadn’t noticed in his quick run-in the other week.
Elisa followed his gaze. “They erase that wall every month and start over. Everyone is free to write what they want until then.” She grinned. “More than one teen relationship has ended by someone seeing someone else’s initials in hearts.”
Noah snorted. He could think of much more traumatic ways to breakup as a teen?—
“Next!” The barista with short dark hair and giant hoop earrings, wearing a black apron and a striped shirt with rolled-up sleeves, gestured impatiently for them to move up in line.
Noah approached the counter. That must be Miley. A pencil was tucked behind one ear, and a dainty tattooed vine of flowers peeked out of her sleeve and wrapped around her forearm and wrist.
She turned bored eyes on Noah, attitude seeping from every piercing. “Well?”
Suddenly, he wished he’d taken the weather report a little more seriously. “Um.” He cleared his throat, casting a glance at Elisa. “I’ll take a small?—”
Elisa shook her head, but it was too late.
“We don’t have small ,” the young woman barked. She seemed more suited to a studded dog collar than the thin gold chain adorning her neck. A tiny music note dangled off the end. She jerked one finger toward the cup sizes lining the counter. “We have the mini mug, the mug, and the chug a mug. Or you can bring your own mug for the Mug Me discount.”
Noah had never been much of a tea drinker, but the idea was growing on him.
Miley narrowed her eyes. “And no, none of that was my idea. My dad is unapologetically corny.”
“Right.” Noah shifted his weight, noting her stud nose ring. “I’ll take a small—I mean, a mini mug of coffee.”
“Black or blond?” Her dark eyes bored into his.
Noah blinked.
Elisa hissed at his elbow. “Black.”
He repeated the command as if Miley hadn’t already heard her. “Black.”
“Cream?”
He glanced at Elisa, who shook her head, eyes wide. He cleared his throat. “No.”
“Foam?” Miley punched buttons on the iPad register.
Elisa barely grazed his arm with hers.
“Yep.”
Miley hovered one finger over the keypad. “Flavored syrup?”
Elisa sucked in her breath.
He was on his own for this one. He took a shot in the dark. “Nope.”
Miley’s face relaxed a smidge, and she punched one final key on the register. “Four twenty-seven.”
Noah released his sigh as he relinquished his debit card. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just avoided, but he’d clearly avoided something.
Elisa gave her order next, then Miley curtly addressed them both before turning to the shiny coffee maker to her left. “I’ll call your number when it’s ready.”
Noah frowned. “But you didn’t give me a num?—”
“Just go.” Elisa half-pushed him toward an empty group of chairs in the back corner by the chalkboard wall. Once they were out of earshot, she smiled. “Get ready for the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”
Noah slid his card back inside his wallet. “But she seems like she’s in a bad mood.”
“Exactly. The forecast was cloudy, remember?” Elisa plopped down on one of the black slip-covered chairs and pulled her legs up under her.
He sat stiffly on the wide seat next to Elisa, a low table angled between them. “So the coffee is better when Miley is upset?”
“Every time.”
Was this still Magnolia Bay, or had he stumbled after a rabbit with a stopwatch? “In Shreveport, you just order coffee and it’s the same every time.”
“What can I say? Magnolia Bay has character.” Elisa shrugged.
That was one word for it. Regardless, he could use that coffee. Noah rubbed his hand down his face. “Where’s the first clue?”
Elisa raised her eyebrows. “You have it.”
Oh, yeah. He pulled his envelope from his back pocket and wrestled the thin paper free.
Elisa craned her head sideways to read the card alongside him.
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be…
He leaned back in his chair. “That’s helpful.”
“Is that your grandfather’s handwriting?” Elisa’s tone gentled as she ran one finger lightly over the ink.
There went that knot again. “It is.” He closed his eyes as images of that exact writing filled his memories. Scribbles in the margins of books. Notes posted on the fridge and stuck on the bathroom mirror. Tags on Christmas gifts. Even when Grandpa had written Santa , Noah knew. Yet he’d always played along.
He abruptly opened his eyes. “What does yours say?”
Elisa opened her envelope.
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light…
Noah groaned. “They’re both pieces from a poem.”
“Paul Revere’s Ride.” Elisa’s eyes lit with excitement even as Noah felt his own energy seeping away. This was already impossible. What was Grandpa thinking?
“The lines are out of order. I wonder if that’s significant.” Elisa tapped her chin with her finger, the whirring of the espresso machine competing with her words.
Noah leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “What do you mean?” He had so much to do at the inn, and here he sat, waiting on coffee from a moody college kid and contributing nothing to the challenge at hand.
He didn’t need more opportunities to be set up for failure.
“You have the first part of Clue #1. But in the poem, the lines from my clue—Clue #1, Part Two—come first.” Elisa tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear. “Might be nothing.”
“It’s got to be a church, right?” Noah pointed to the wording on Elisa’s paper. “North Church tower…”
“But none of the churches around here have bell towers.” Elisa tilted her head. “Maybe it’s symbolic?”
Noah pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’d think the first clue would be easier.”
“Don’t give up. We have to let it percolate a bit.” She gestured around the shop. “Like a strong coffee.”
It was a nice thought, but the truth remained. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Let it steep.”
“So first it’s coffee, now it’s tea?” He shot a look at Elisa. “Why are you not frustrated?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe the same reason you’re frustrated all the time?”
Easy for her to say. Elisa didn’t have the fate of an entire family legacy hanging over her. If they couldn’t figure this out, the money would remain where it was—locked away, and doing no one any good. Time wasn’t something they had a lot of.
This partnership didn’t need to last any longer than it had to.
He cast a look toward the counter, hoping their order was almost ready, and caught Miley pointing right at them as she spoke with a female customer. He groaned. So much for keeping a low profile.
“Let me think.” Oblivious to the gossip chain starting at the counter, Elisa held up one hand. “Your grandfather liked history, right?”
Noah nodded. “He collected early American memorabilia and thrift books. And the man memorized the lyrics to the Hamilton musical before it was cool.” He snorted at the mental image of Grandpa rapping the lyrics to “My Shot” while vacuuming the foyer of the Blue Pirogue.
That gave him an idea. He shifted in his seat as a mom and two toddlers scooted past their table. “I think he’s got a collectible Paul Revere spoon somewhere in the library at the inn. Maybe that’s a lead?”
“Maybe.” Elisa scrunched her nose. “Though that seems too easy.”
Easy? He was surprised he’d even thought of it in the first place. He cleared his throat, trying not to be offended. “Got a better idea?”
She took the clue from his hand and held the papers side by side, squinting. “I’m working on it.”
They needed progress, not perfection. Noah scrubbed his palms down his jeans. “I can check the inn when I get home tonight, see if there’s anything in the collector’s case.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to rule it out.” Elisa was still squinting, almost like she was patronizing him.
“Number twenty-seven,” Miley bellowed from the front.
“That’s probably us.” Elisa started to stand, but Noah beat her to it.
“I’ll get it.” He turned to head for the counter, when something dark caught his eye outside the window.
Smoke.
Billowing out the front door of the Magnolia Blossom Café.
* * *
Elisa stood unmoving in the middle of the diner, surveying the damage with her hands shoved into her hair. Water dripped from its tangled ends, much like it dripped off everything else. The chairs had toppled over in everyone’s rush to get outside once the overhead sprinklers turned on. The magnolia flower centerpieces she’d so carefully crafted were wilted, their drowned petals sagging onto the tabletops.
“Man.” Noah’s deep timbre sounded beside her. He’d been the first one to sprint across the street and race inside, as well as the one to ensure the fire department had been called as her staff stumbled out, coughing. Now they were being corralled across the street until the fire department determined the scene clear. “What a mess.”
“That’s sort of like saying the bay is wet.” Water seeped into Elisa’s sandaled feet as the acrid scent of smoke lingered in the air. A piece of soggy hamburger bun floated past her.
“You were lucky.” Captain Sanders shrugged out of his bulky fire retardant jacket as he approached. “It’s only water damage. The sprinklers did their job.” He looked around the saturated café. “I know it seems like a lot right now, but it’ll clean up.”
Elisa fought back a smirk. Clean up. Right. With her and what army? She forced a smile, wrapping her arms around her middle as a sudden chill racked her body. “Does Delia know?”
Captain Sanders shrugged, holding up one finger as his walkie talkie squawked. “We haven’t told her.” Then he walked a few steps away, speaking into the device in low tones.
Delia couldn’t know about this yet—she had enough to worry about with her health. Though keeping it a secret from her wouldn’t be possible either. Maybe Elisa could put off the inevitable until she had time to get the bulk of the water out.
She thought about the singular mop in the storage closet near the bathrooms and a strangled half laugh, half sob emerged from her throat. Talk about understatements.
“Ms. Bergeron, I’m so sorry.” The diner’s temporary chef, Lucius Sanchez, pushed through the open café doors, a protesting fireman at his heels. Lucius still wore the white chef’s coat he’d insisted on wearing for his shift.
“Sir, I’ve got to insist you leave the premises.” The young fireman clamped a firm hand on the chef’s arm.
Lucius shook off the uniformed man’s grip as his thick dark brow furrowed with regret. “The fried pickles got away from me. I’ve done them a hundred times, but the oil…” He flapped his hands helplessly at his sides. “Then when I was dealing with that, there was a grease fire that grabbed the towel. From there— whoosh .” He demonstrated with both hands.
Elisa’s shoulders shook as the sudden, uncanny urge to laugh gripped her. What in the world—was this grief? She snorted, then sputtered. Then the laughter burst free. Oh bless it, she couldn’t stop. Her upper body trembled under her wet shirt.
“Um, Chef…why don’t you go on home?” Noah looped an arm around Lucius’s shoulders and steered him toward the exit. Water slurped under their shoes, which only made Elisa laugh harder. Noah angled Lucius through the door. “You can dismiss the waitstaff, tell them to not come back until they hear from Elisa. It’ll probably be a day or two.”
“Or a hundred.” Elisa guffawed, bending over at the waist as her body convulsed with laughter. This was worse than that time Zoey had made her laugh in church, and she shook the entire pew with her attempts to control herself. She tried pinching her own arm, but it didn’t help. And she was cold. So cold.
“Elisa…you okay?” Captain Sanders slid his walkie talkie on his hip holster, concern sketched across his expression.
“Just peachy, Captain.” Elisa pressed her lips together as tears burned her eyes. The giggles wouldn’t stop.
“I think she’s in shock, sir.” The young fireman next to her gently touched her arm. “Why don’t we do a vitals check?”
“I’m fine.” She snorted again, and pressed her fingers to her mouth to catch the next one as she shivered. “It’s been a stressful few days, is all.” The last thing she needed was people fawning over her. She had work to do—starting with that mop.
The snort burst free.
The fireman frowned. “I think we should?—”
“She said she’s fine.” Noah turned to the captain, his commanding tone dismissing any further discussion. “I assume you turned the electricity off? What can we expect over the next few days while we clean up?”
Noah, once again taking charge on her behalf. She hated that and appreciated it, all at once. It was confusing. Sort of like how confusing it was to be this cold when she’d been practically sweating outside a few hours ago.
Elisa didn’t catch all of Captain Sanders’s instructions, something about breaker boxes and getting the water removed. All she could think about was how appealing Noah looked with his hair dripping down his forehead, his soaking wet T-shirt clinging to his muscled torso.
And then suddenly there was light, and shadow, blurring. Her vision, narrowing. She took a deep breath. Shivered. What were those swirls? She reached out to touch one…
And fell into sudden darkness.