In 27 Days

by Alison Gervais

  Regina took care of the drink orders with a swift sort of efficiency I found a little frightening. She whipped up mochas and lattes and espressos in quick succession, and didn’t even look remotely frazzled. She was all grins as she handed out drinks and pastries, chatting with the customers as if they were old friends.

  It took me a few tries to figure out how to work the ancient register, and once I got the hang of it, I fell into an easy routine of taking orders, as well as helping Regina carry drinks and bowls of soup or sandwiches. The task wasn’t as difficult as I had been expecting, and after I had finally calmed down a bit, it was almost sort of fun.

  Most of the people that came through the front door must have been regulars, as I was asked more than once when I’d started working here.

  “She’s a friend of the family,” Regina had answered once, smiling as she handed the old woman her mocha in a to-go cup.

  I felt a surge of warmth at her words, and smiled in spite of myself. Even if this was only temporary, it was still nice to feel as if I was a part of something.

  The front door burst open with a tinkle of bells and a gust of cold air as I was wiping down the counter and Regina was removing the unsold pastries from the pastry case. I whipped my head up and squeaked in shock as Archer came striding inside, closely followed by Victoria, who was balancing a little girl with dark curls on her hip.

  Archer came to a sudden stop in the middle of the coffeehouse and stared at me with wide eyes. “Jamison? What’re you doing here?”

  “Oh, I was just—”

  “Hadley was just giving me a hand during the dinner rush,” Regina told Archer, giving him a look that said Don’t you dare start anything.

  “Hadley. How nice,” Victoria said as she shoved past Archer with the little girl, marching around the counter to Regina. “Sorry we’re late. One of the trains broke down.”

  “Mom!” the little girl squealed. “I drew you a picture at school today!”

  Regina beamed as she took the little girl into her arms and kissed her forehead, hugging her tightly. “Rosie, this is Hadley,” she said, introducing us.

  Rosie gave me a big smile and waved, her nose crinkling cutely. “Hi,” she said shyly.

  Rosie seemed just the same as she had the night of Archer’s funeral, all sweet and bubbly despite any circumstance.

  “Are you friends with Archer?” Rosie asked me, reminding me again of that night. “Archer’s my big brother.”

  I shot a furtive glance toward Archer, who was going around flipping chairs upside down and placing them on the tables.

  “Er . . . sort of,” I said to Rosie.

  Rosie squirmed in Regina’s arms as a signal to be set on her feet, and then she came over to yank on my pant leg, wanting me to bend down to her level. “I gotta tell you something.”

  “Sure,” I said, grinning as she looked up at me with those big blue eyes of her. “What is it?”

  She leaned up on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear, “Archer is a big, fat meanie.”

  I had to bite my lip to keep from letting a giggle escape. “I’m sure he is.”

  “Rosalia, what nonsense are you saying now?”

  Rosie stopped talking midsentence as Archer leaned over the counter, giving his little sister a stern glare.

  “Nothing!” she chirped with a bright smile.

  Archer rolled his eyes before he launched himself over the counter, jostling me to the side as he scooped Rosie up into his arms and started tickling her. I watched in astonishment as Rosie giggled in delight, struggling to get out of Archer’s arms. She wasn’t having much luck, but I didn’t think she minded.

  It was a heartwarming scene, Archer playing with his little sister. But it was also a little strange. Archer put up such a hard, strong front at school that it seemed almost . . . unnatural for him to not be on guard like this.

  “All right, all right!” Regina said loudly over Rosie’s squealing. “I think that’s enough, you two.”

  Archer set Rosie on her feet and turned to me as Regina struck up a conversation with Victoria in Italian.

  “What are you really doing here, Hadley?” he asked quietly, turning to me. “And I know you didn’t come here just to help my mom out.”

  He wasn’t pleased that I was there, that much I could tell. “Look.” I took a deep breath. “I came here so I could—”

  “Listen, Hadley,” Regina said, coming over to us. “Would you like to join us for dinner? As a thank you for helping me this evening.”

  First I worked a shift at their coffeehouse, and now I was being invited to stay for dinner?

  “Oh, Hadley can’t stay for dinner, Ma,” Archer said quickly, looking incredulous. “She has to—”

  I wanted to laugh, because there was actually nothing I needed to do, apart from getting some time with Archer. I’d finished my homework in sixth-period study hall, and my parents would probably be eating in their offices at work as usual.

  Besides, now I was even more determined to stay despite Archer trying to shove me out the door. “I’d love to stay for dinner, Regina,” I said, smiling at her. “Thank you.”

  “Great!” Victoria barked. “Now that we’ve settled that, let’s actually go upstairs and make dinner, shall we?”

  I followed after Archer as he slouched his way into the kitchen, not wanting to see the look on his face.

  CHAPTER 10

  Dinner in the Apartment Upstairs—20 Days Until

  The apartment above Mama Rosa’s Coffeehouse was nothing like I would have expected. It was small and cramped, the living room the size of a postage stamp and containing an old couch, a coffee table, and a TV set that had to have been purchased in the 1970s. There was a long table with a pretty lace cloth in the dining room, the windows behind it covered with heavy drapes.

  The kitchen, positioned off to the side of the dining room, was full of appliances definitely not from this century, though they did have marble countertops and an island counter in the middle. Beyond the kitchen and the dining room was a long staircase that led up to the second floor.

  It was hardly anything like what I was used to living in, yet it had a sense of home that I had never felt in my parents’ five-star digs. You could tell that the people who lived here were family, and that memories lived inside the walls.

  I loved it.

  “Wow,” I said, still taking in the sight. “This is nice.”

  I heard a snort behind me. “Yeah, whatever. Would you kindly get out of the way so I can start dinner?” Archer shoved past me into the apartment, heading for the kitchen.

  “Come on, Hadley, let’s watch Dragon Tales!” Rosie chirped, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the living room.

  I took a seat on the edge of the couch while Rosie snatched the remote and started flipping through the channels on the TV. Regina and Victoria were still closing up shop downstairs, so Archer, Rosie, and I were the only ones in the apartment.

  I wanted the chance to talk to Archer about Monday. What had been said during lunch the other day with Ty Ritter was still following me around, like an itch I couldn’t scratch. I doubted I would be able to rest easy until I had at least attempted to make amends with Archer. I needed to figure out why I’d upset him and apologize for it.

  While Rosie was riveted by a particularly colorful commercial, I got to my feet and walked to the kitchen, taking a seat on one of the stools at the island counter. Archer looked up from slicing tomatoes on a chopping board, gave me the once over, and returned to his task.

  I awkwardly cleared my throat, folding my hands together on the counter. “So. Um. Do you need any help with dinner?”

  I couldn’t see his face, but I was fairly certain he was laughing silently from the way his shoulders were shaking. What was so funny about my offering to help him with dinner?

  “Don’t bother,” he said. “I’m just reheating leftovers and making a salad.”

  “Oh . . . all right.”

  I didn’t know how
to start this whole apologizing thing. I knew he wasn’t going to be thrilled that I was bringing up the subject.

  “So, um.” I started drumming my fingers on the countertop, frowning. I had to stop saying um. “Did you have a nice day?”

  “The best day ever,” Archer said sarcastically.

  “That’s . . . good,” I said awkwardly. “But look. I really just wanted to—”

  “Hey, Hadley!” Rosie called from the living room. “Come watch with me!”

  Archer nodded his head toward his little sister. “Keep her company, would you? She’ll start bouncing off the walls if she doesn’t get enough attention.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Okay.”

  There went nothing. I slid off the stool and headed back to the living room, wondering if Archer had known what I’d been trying to say, or if he really did just want me to spend time with his sister.

  Rosie chatted away as a SpongeBob SquarePants rerun played on the TV, telling me about her day at preschool, which was full of many more perils than I remembered, like missing colored pencils and the little play kitchen being so popular that only the kids Rosie called “the mean girls” got to play with it.

  “Enjoy preschool while you can,” I told her. “High school’s no fun. I think Archer would say the same thing too.”

  “I like staying with Mommy and Archer,” Rosie said, pulling a dramatic pout. “I like being at home.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said. I could relate. It had taken months after I first started kindergarten to stop being so homesick. “You have a very nice home too.”

  Rosie giggled. “I know. It’s comfy. Plus, I get see my daddy here.” She rolled off my lap and scrambled across the couch to the table beside it, snatching up a picture frame. “Have you seen a picture of my daddy?”

  “No, I—”

  Rosie shoved the photo under my nose. “Look! Aren’t they pretty?”

  I took the photo and examined it, obviously taken at a wedding—Regina’s wedding.

  Regina looked beautiful, dressed in a gorgeous lace dress, her hair done up in a waterfall of curls. The man who had his arms wrapped around her was tall and very handsome, his eyes a bright blue, his wavy hair dark, and a wide smile was on his face. The way the man and Regina were staring at each other . . . you could tell that they were head over heels in love. You couldn’t mistake the looks in their eyes for anything but.

  “This is your dad?” I asked Rosie, pointing to the photo.

  Rosie beamed up at me. “Sure is!”

  “I’ve never met him before,” I said.

  She blew out a sigh—this type of sad sigh I didn’t think was possible for a five-year-old to make—and took the photo back, running her fingers over her parents’ faces. “I never got to meet Daddy, either. Mommy says he went to heaven before she had me.”

  I felt a little sick to my stomach hearing those words. Rosie and Archer’s dad, Regina’s husband, was dead? I may not have been all that close with my own father, but I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not have him there anymore.

  Rosie was five. If what she said was true, that meant Archer’s father had only died, at the very least, a little less than six years ago. The thought that was why Archer had ended his life the first time around crossed my mind. Being depressed would naturally be the side effect of something like losing your dad. Depressed enough to commit suicide, though? I had no idea.

  What about what Ty said? I thought. He said Archer’s old man was in prison.

  I was obviously missing something here. Either Ty was lying—which was a definite possibility—or Rosie was wrong. Maybe her dad wasn’t dead but in prison, and Regina didn’t know how to tell her. That couldn’t be an easy conversation to have with a little girl.

  I took a deep breath while rubbing my forehead with the heel of my palm, and made a mental note to add this little detail to my growing list of mysteries.

  Regina and Victoria walked in about fifteen minutes later, while Rosie and I were watching another episode of SpongeBob.

  “Dinner ready yet, boy?” Victoria asked as she whisked into the kitchen.

  “Nearly,” Archer answered.

  “Rosie, come help me set the table,” Regina called to her daughter.

  Leftovers or not, dinner ended up being a lovely dish of fettuccine with a spicy marinara sauce, some fruit on the side, and a salad with vinaigrette. And I quickly learned that dinner with the Morales family was not a quiet affair.

  Victoria was the loudest, speaking with so much enthusiasm that she might as well have been giving some dramatic monologue. She had this tendency to slap her hand down on the table when she was making a point, which, incidentally, was rather frequent.

  She traded stories with Regina about the fiascos of running a coffeehouse, while Rosie interjected now and then, sharing her opinions about almost everything. I found myself laughing during that dinner more than I had in the past few weeks. I couldn’t remember the last time I actually had a sit-down dinner like this. I liked it. It was easy to forget your troubles when you were surrounded by people who never stopped laughing.

  Not surprisingly, the only person who didn’t seem to be enjoying himself was Archer. He was silent throughout the whole meal, eating his pasta with his head down, his hand clenched into a fist on the table beside his plate. I wasn’t sure if this was normal behavior for him, but Regina and Victoria made no comment about it.

  Rosie’s head began to droop low over her plate shortly after Regina brought out cups of pudding for dessert, and soon she was yawning after every other word. I was feeling tired myself, but still antsy, knowing I needed to find a chance to get Archer alone to talk to him.

  “Bed!” Victoria declared, slapping a hand down on the table when Rosie tried to take a bite of pudding, missed, and smeared the chocolate on her face.

  Archer quickly stood, probably eager to make an escape. He wiped Rosie’s face off with a napkin, then scooped her up into his arms and made for the stairs. Rosie wrapped her arms around his neck, laid her head on his shoulder, and was asleep before he even made it to the first step.

  Something about the sight made my heart ache in a way I didn’t understand. How could Archer have ever felt like he needed to end his life? Didn’t he see how heavily his family relied on him? How much they loved him? How could he have wanted to leave something like that behind?

  Victoria got to her feet and followed after her grandson as Regina started to pile up the dirty plates in her arms.

  “Here, let me help,” I said, standing.

  “Oh, Hadley, that’s okay, you—”

  “Really, it’s okay. I want to help.”

  Regina gave me a grateful look and made for the kitchen with the dishes. I gathered up the rest of the dinner dishes and pudding cups and set them on the counter as Regina filled the sink with hot, soapy water–no dishwasher.

  “I’ll wash, you dry,” she said, tossing me a dishtowel.

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  We fell into a comfortable silence as Regina scrubbed the dishes clean and I rinsed and dried them off. And even though we were just doing the dinner dishes, it was sort of nice to realize that there were moments silence was an okay thing. Sometimes not saying anything could say just as much as words did.

  “You know, I really appreciate your help tonight, Hadley,” Regina told me as she handed me the last of the dinner plates to dry. “You did great.”

  “It was no problem,” I said. “It was sort of fun.”

  Regina laughed, pulling the stopper in the sink, letting the water drain. “Just wait until it starts to get really cold. Then it’s not so much fun. We go through so much hot cocoa mix, it’s not even funny.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” I agreed.

  “You know . . .” Regina set the stack of plates in the cupboard and leaned up against the counter. “I’m sure we could find you a waitressing job downstairs. We could always use the extra help. If you wanted, of course.”

  W
hat?

  “You . . . I mean, you’re offering me a job?”

  “If you want,” Regina said again with what seemed to be hopeful eyes.

  I tried to run through every scenario of what could happen if I accepted Regina’s offer. The possibilities were endless. Archer wouldn’t be too happy, but his displeasure was just something I would have to deal with. This was too good of a chance to pass up.

  “Sure,” I finally said, forcing a smile, realizing I’d inadvertently been tugging on the ghost beads that hid the numbers tattooed on my wrist the entire time I’d had that internal debate with myself. “That would be really nice.”

  “Fantastic.” Regina beamed at me. “I’ll just have Archer—”

  “You’ll just have Archer what, exactly?”

  We both turned and saw Archer standing at the island, watching the two of us with a wary expression.

  I looked to Regina for help, unsure of what to say. “Um . . .”

  “Why, Hadley has just agreed to start working part time for us down in the coffeehouse,” she said, looking pleasantly at him.

  The expression on Archer’s face at hearing this was akin to having been clubbed on the back of the head. “You’re joking.”

  “Afraid not, sweetheart,” Regina said. “We could use the extra help, what with the holidays coming up and everything.”

  “Then ask Carlo or Lauren for help,” Archer snapped. “You don’t need to hire Hadley. It’s not like she needs the money.”

  I swallowed uncomfortably. He wasn’t wrong. There was probably someone out there who needed the job more than I did.

  “Unfortunately for you, Archer, that’s not your decision to make. I run this shop, not you,” Regina said in businesslike voice I hadn’t heard her use before. She added something in Italian that made Archer’s expression go from incredulous to stoic in half a second.

  “Fine,” he said stiffly. “Fine. Whatever you like, Ma.”

  “Good,” Regina said, seemingly satisfied, before turning back to me. “Thanks again, Hadley, for your help.”