11. Lucy #2
Bea's smile turned unexpectedly soft. "I've been told.
" The warmth in her voice lingered for only a second before she shook herself free of it.
"Anyway." She turned onto the next street.
"Ready to spend the morning surrounded by puppies before we have to put on uncomfortable dresses and pretend to enjoy another charity gala this week? "
I groaned. "Please don't remind me."
"I've already mentally planned how many tiny desserts I'm stealing."
"I was planning my escape route."
"Excellent."
"We'll meet by the chocolate fountain."
"Deal."
North Line Tavern sat on the corner of a neighborhood block lined with trees exploding in shades of amber and crimson.
Pumpkins flanked the front entrance beneath overflowing planters of mums, while strings of café lights crisscrossed the patio overhead despite the late-morning sun already brightening the cool Minnesota sky.
Someone had tucked plaid blankets over the backs of nearly every outdoor chair.
A chalkboard sign near the sidewalk read:
Adoption Brunch
Coffee · Pancakes · Local Rescue
Below it, in different handwriting:
Dogs receive complimentary bacon. Humans must pay.
I smiled before we'd even parked. "That has Arlo written all over it."
"Oh, one hundred percent."
The patio buzzed with quiet conversation instead of noise.
Families shared syrup-covered pancakes beneath patio heaters.
Two older women compared knitting projects while an enormous golden retriever slept across both of their feet.
A little boy proudly walked a senior beagle past the tables while one of the rescue volunteers matched his tiny steps.
Somewhere toward the back, someone laughed so hard it carried across the entire patio.
"This place gets cuter every time I come," Bea murmured.
"I know." The words escaped before I realized I'd said them. Because it did.
Every season seemed to suit Northbend differently. Summer spilled onto patios. Winter wrapped everything in lights. Spring smelled like fresh rain and lilacs. Autumn somehow convinced everyone to slow down.
Arlo spotted us almost immediately. "There you are." He rounded the end of the patio carrying two fresh mugs despite the one I'd already finished. "I planned ahead."
"You bribed us."
"I incentivized attendance."
He hugged Bea first. "Good to see you."
"You too."
Then he pulled me into an easy one-armed hug that smelled faintly of coffee beans and maple syrup. "You actually came."
"I said I would."
"I wasn't entirely convinced."
"I resent that."
"You'll recover." He pointed toward a table tucked near the patio railing. "I saved your favorite spot."
My gaze followed his hand. Then stopped. Naomi looked up from her coffee. Our eyes met across the patio. She smiled.
I looked back at Arlo. "You invited Naomi?"
His forehead creased. "No?" He looked genuinely confused.
Before I could question it further, Naomi pushed back from the table and walked over.
She wore a rust-colored knit sweater beneath a denim jacket, her blonde curls twisted into a messy bun already surrendering to the breeze.
She stopped a few feet away and lifted both hands in surrender. "We are not talking about Buzz."
The words came before I could even say hello.
"I mean it," she said. "Not one word."
"You promise?"
"I swear on coffee."
Beside me, Bea gasped. "That's legally binding in your world."
Naomi nodded with exaggerated solemnity. "The highest oath available."
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"I figured," Naomi said, her voice softening, "today we could just be friends."
I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her. She hugged me back without hesitation. Without expectation. Without making me earn it.
When we pulled apart, she smiled like nothing had happened. Maybe that was exactly what I needed. Not permission to pretend New York hadn't happened. Just permission to have one morning where it wasn't the only thing in the room.
Arlo steered us toward the corner table he'd reserved where a basket of miniature pumpkins sat beneath the heater beside jars filled with maple leaves and battery-powered candles. "I'll be right back," he said. "Kitchen owes me favors."
"You own the kitchen," Naomi called after him.
"Exactly." He disappeared through the back door.
"I like him," Bea said.
Naomi looked at her. "You've known him for over a year."
"I know." Bea smiled. "I still like him."
I pulled my chair out and settled beneath the warmth of the patio heater, letting my hands wrap around the fresh mug Arlo had practically forced into them.
For a few quiet minutes, none of us said much. We didn't need to. The patio carried enough life to fill the silence.
Silverware clinked against plates. A toddler squealed somewhere near the sidewalk when a floppy-eared hound licked his face. Someone at another table laughed loudly enough to turn a few heads before immediately apologizing to everyone around them.
The rescue volunteers moved between portable exercise pens arranged along the far edge of the patio, answering questions and introducing dogs to families one at a time.
Every few minutes another leash disappeared through the gate for a meet-and-greet.
"You know," Bea muttered, watching a boxer puppy enthusiastically attempt to climb into an elderly man's lap, "I'm not saying I need another animal."
Naomi snorted. "But..."
"But..." Bea admitted.
I took a sip of coffee. "Alois is going to age ten years before lunch."
"He already thinks I'm bringing one home."
"Are you?" Naomi asked.
She considered it with alarming sincerity. "...I haven't ruled it out."
Naomi leaned toward me. "Should we warn him?"
"I think he already knows," I giggled.
Bea's phone buzzed. She looked down. Then burst into laughter.
"What?" I asked.
Without answering, she slid the phone across the table.
Alois: Status report. How many dogs have you touched? Answer honestly.
I snicker despite myself. "I told you he was worried."
Bea typed quickly with an honest reply.
Alois: Three? It has been eleven minutes.
Naomi covered her mouth with her coffee cup, shoulders shaking. "I love him."
"You love making him panic," I corrected.
"I contain multitudes."
Another vibration. Bea opened the screen and set the phone in the middle of the table for us to eavesdrop.
Alois: Do not make eye contact with any of them.
I lost it. The laugh escaped quickly, bright and unexpected, pulling another one from Naomi and Bea until the three of us were chuckling hard enough that people at the next table glanced over smiling.
It had been...I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed like that.
Arlo returned balancing two enormous plates on one arm and another tucked against his hip. "What did I miss?"
"Bea is emotionally terrorizing her boyfriend."
Bea pointed a finger at her. "Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
Arlo set plates around the table with practiced ease. Blueberry pancakes landed in front of Naomi. Breakfast hash in front of Bea. An avocado toast with a side of fruit appeared in front of me.
I looked up. "I didn't order."
"You always get this."
"I haven't been here in weeks."
"So?" He shrugged. "I know what my sister likes."