“Actually, just ‘bout the opposite. Miss Georgia here’s been a real help. A fast learner, too!” Duke said.
Georgia glanced discreetly to the side to see her dad’s reaction.
Her dad nodded, agreeing with Duke. “I know. She got that from her mom, not from me.” He raised his hands in his refusal to take credit.
Georgia pretended not to hear as she foamed the milk for his cappuccino.
“Well, Delilah would be very proud of her,” Duke said, a touch of reverence in his voice as he remembered the sheriff’s wife.
Her dad didn’t say anything, but Georgia was sure she could feel him nodding in accord behind her.
“Excuse me while I go take some orders.” Duke walked behind her and around the counter.
“Sure thing, Duke,” her dad responded, tipping his hat towards him.
Georgia poured the foamed milk into the hot espresso, the milk making an elegant design as it mixed with the dark espresso and lightened to a rich, caramel color. “One fresh cappuccino made by yours truly.” She set the cup down in front of her dad.
Her dad raised his eyebrows with amusement.
Georgia took a step back and placed a hand on her hip. “Well?” she asked, giving her dad a confident smile.
He lifted the cup to his lips and took a slow sip, his eyes laughing. Then, clearing his throat, he set the cappuccino down in front of him. Looking up at Georgia finally, he spoke solemnly, trying to keep a straight face, “A triumph." His stern expression gave way to a grin.
Georgia laughed. “Gee thanks, dad.” She turned to wipe off the steam wand and drip tray.
“Pretty soon you’ll have customers lined up out through the door, Georg.” He took another sip.
Georgia shook her head as she put the milk back in the fridge, stifling a giggle. It was hard for her to maintain a professional sense of decorum with her dad at her workplace, even though they had frequented Duke’s together for years before she actually worked there.
Her dad drained the rest of his coffee.
“That was fast,” she said as she inspected his cup.
“No, that was damn good,” he corrected her. “Well sweetheart, I better get goin’.” He stood up. “I gotta mow the lawn before it gets any hotter out there.”
“Sure, dad. Thanks for stopping by.”
Her dad pulled out his leather wallet.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, dad…” she began, but her dad held up his hand, stopping her.
Placing a crisp five-dollar bill on the white countertop, he winked at her. “Keep the change. The coffee and service were first-class.”
Georgia smiled. “Thanks, dad.”
“See you at home, Georg.” Her dad turned and made for the door, calling out over his shoulder, “Thanks, Duke!” He reached for the door handle but the door swung open, the bell tinkling overhead. “Mornin’, Dr. Young,” Sheriff Summer said, tipping his hat to the doctor as he came in.
“Good morning, Sheriff.” Dr. Young nodded at him.
Georgia’s dad looked back at Georgia and held his hand up briefly, waving to her, and then left the diner.
Dr. Young walked in slowly, his bent posture almost painful to look at. His sunken eyes looked up at Georgia, and he gave her a small, weak smile. Georgia smiled back, looking past him to see if he had any company with him today. She saw no one else. To her surprise, he came up to the counter and sat down right where her father had sat only moments earlier.
“Good morning, Georgia. How are we today?” he asked.
Georgia responded cheerfully, “Very well, Dr. Young! What brings you in today?”
He gazed up at her intently from his barstool, his eyebrows raised as if trying to get a good look at her. “Usually I just come in for coffee in the mornings, but seeing as you got some special drinks, well, I figure I ought to try something new,” he said in his assured, yet thoughtful voice. He folded his hands in front of him on the counter.
“I think that’s a great idea, Dr. Young. What would you like? We’ve got cappuccinos, Americanos, lattes—”
“Whatever you recommend, Georgia,” he interjected, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile that was just barely there.
She bit her lip, thinking. “Okay, sure. Hm…How about a latte? I haven’t made one yet for anyone other than myself.”
“Sounds fine by me,” he answered smoothly.
Georgia started up the machine and then wiped the portafilter with a dry cloth.
“How has your sister been? And the twins?” she heard him ask behind her.
Georgia looked back over her shoulder as she flushed the grouphead. “They’re great! Virginia loves being a mom, and the twins are growing and getting bigger every day it seems.”
Dr. Young nodded, imbibing the information. “Yes, they do grow fast. The time does fly…” he said pensively, his voice trailing off.
Georgia tamped down the freshly ground beans into the portafilter before locking it back into the grouphead. The espresso began to brew and she turned around to look at Dr. Young. “You’re a father, right Dr. Young?” she asked, surprising herself with her boldness.
“Me? Oh, yes. I have a son. Did you know him in school?” He squinted up at her.
Georgia bit her lip, trying to remember his son’s name. But, truth be told, she was embarrassed to ask. After all, this was a man that had known her and her family for all of their lives, had seen her grow up, and had even helped deliver her sister’s children. Georgia realized then just how little she actually knew about this man that knew so much about her. She racked her brain, trying to remember his son, but then shook her head. “I don’t think so. Was he in Virginia’s class, maybe? She was a few years ahead of me.” She looked at Dr. Young expectantly, waiting for him to answer, but he seemed distracted.
He was staring down at his folded hands, studying them as if he had never seen them before. “It’s probably best you didn’t know him then,” he said quietly, still looking down at his hands.
“Um, sorry?” Georgia asked, thinking she had misheard him with the machine whirring behind her.
“Oh, it was nothing. Never mind.” He waved his hand as if to shoo away his unfinished thoughts.
Georgia turned back to the machine, but glanced at him again out of the corner of her eye. Though he was sitting just across the counter, he seemed to be hundreds of miles away. Worry was etched into every corner of his lined face, and with his outward change in appearance since she had seen him last year, he looked rather small, even feeble. Georgia felt a pang of sympathy towards this kind man that was clearly suffering.
“He’s changed though, my son,” Dr. Young murmured. He looked up at her again as she stood up from the cooler, the cold gallon of milk in her hand. His eyes were clear and focused on her now. “He’s grown up now. He’s grown into a fine young man.” He spoke confidently this time, and Georgia could easily sense the pride in his voice.
Not knowing what to make of his odd behavior, she agreed with him. “I’m sure he is, Dr. Young,” she said, smiling at him. Georgia turned back around to pour the milk into the pitcher, and then placed the steam wand into it. Once the milk finished steaming, she poured it slowly into the cup of freshly brewed espresso. “Here you go. One latte.” She placed the latte in front of Dr. Young, who unclasped his hands to pick up the cup.
“It’s been some time now since I’ve had one of these. Not since I was overseas, come to think of it.” He took a sip and raised his eyebrows, savoring the taste of the espresso.
“Oh? Where overseas?” Georgia inquired.
“Italy,” he answered as he raised the latte again to his lips.
Up close now with Dr. Young, Georgia noticed how pallid his hands seemed, robbed of their once-strong, youthful appearance. Georgia realized she was staring and quickly looked down at the floor, clearing her throat. “Italy! They would have much finer coffee, I’m sure.” She chuckled to herself, thinking of how unrefined her barista skills would be compared to th
ose of a true Italian barista.
Dr. Young shook his head and set the cup down on the counter again. “I know what a good latte is from my days in Italy. And this, Georgia, this is a good latte.” He tapped the rim of the cup to emphasize his point.
Georgia beamed. “What brought you to Italy once upon a time? Vacation?” She wiped off the steam wand with a damp cloth.
“Actually, yes. My wife and I went there for our honeymoon for two weeks. Let me tell you, it was paradise.” He smiled faintly as he revisited the memory.
Georgia remembered how her dad had told her about Dr. Young and his wife, Faye, being separated for years now. Unsure as to how to respond, she opened up the cooler and slid the milk back inside, the blast of cool air making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She shifted the conversation away from his wife. “Wow. I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. I loved learning about it in history class,” Georgia said contemplatively. Directing the conversation back towards him, she asked, “Have you traveled anywhere else overseas?”
Dr. Young pursed his lips as if he would rather not say, and Georgia felt that she had asked the wrong question. “Vietnam. I served there during my medical school training,” he said, his voice flatter now. He took another sip of his coffee.
Georgia paused. She had learned about the Vietnam War in school, as well. She recalled the black and white pictures in her textbook of young American soldiers reaching up to the sky as they lay in the aftermath of a bombing, calling for help. She nearly shuddered as she envisioned the war, wondering what all Dr. Young had seen during his days there. “I didn’t know you served,” she admitted, surprised by this new information. But then again, she had never really asked Dr. Young about his own life. She gazed at him, intrigued by his background.
He nodded.
“What branch of the military?” She dropped the rag next to the machine and grabbed the broom to start sweeping up the grounds on the floor.
“The Navy. Good ol’ Uncle Sam put me through medical school, and I got to go to Vietnam.” He heaved a sigh, frowning.
Georgia glanced over at Dr. Young as he looked down at his latte. She imagined him in his Navy days as a strapping young man with color in his cheeks again, and wondered how he must feel to be so far away from his youth, burdened by sickness, and perhaps even cancer. Georgia dumped the dustpan into the nearby bin, gently knocking it against the side to ensure all the grounds fell in.
“Say, don’t you plan to go to medical school one day? I recall your father telling me some time ago.” Dr. Young lifted an eyebrow with curiosity.
Georgia nodded, suddenly feeling quite shy. “That’s right,” she said. Dr. Young had been a practicing physician for so many years, and being a doctor one day had only been a far-off dream for her since just a few years ago.
“If that’s what you really want, I have no doubts you can do it.” Dr. Young squinted at her, as if sizing her up. He folded his hands in front of him again. “You come from good stock. I’ve known your father for years now and your mother, well, she was a strong woman, beautiful in every way…” His voice trailed off.
Georgia nodded, quietly concurring as a moment of silence passed in veneration for her mother.
Sliding his empty cup over to her across the counter, Dr. Young stood up slowly, as if the movement caused him physical pain. He winced and straightened his back as much as he could.
Watching him, Georgia wished she could offer him something, anything to return him back to the Dr. Young she remembered.
He opened his eyes again and looked at her, his rich, brown eyes full of unspoken sadness. “Well, Georgia. It’s been a pleasure visiting with you. Thank you for the delectable latte,” he said, his smooth, composed voice contrasting severely against his frail appearance.
She smiled at him. “Of course. And thank you…” Georgia paused, deciding it was better late than never to show appreciation. “For your service in the Navy. I never knew.”
Dr. Young gave her a sad smile and walked over to the register to pay. As Duke handed him the change for his bill, Dr. Young looked back at Georgia. “Oh, and Georgia?”
She looked up from the milk pitcher she was rinsing out.
“You make a wonderful barista, and I’m sure one day you’ll make a fine doctor,” Dr. Young said, the corners of his mouth lifting up again into that small smile. Nodding at her, he slid his wallet back into his pocket and turned towards the door, making his way slowly out of the diner.
“Thank you, Dr. Young,” Georgia said. She looked after him, hoping he had heard her.
✽✽✽
For the next hour, Georgia was nearly overloaded with coffee orders. Her hands were quickly growing accustomed to the motions of the espresso machine. Handing over another latte to a customer across the counter, Georgia noticed a group of young men walk in. She peeked at them again and recognized one of them. Yes, they had been in the car that drove by the other night at Maple Leaf Park when she and Millie had been walking.
They walked over to one of the vacant booths and sat down, squishing themselves in together. She saw Duke make his way over with his notepad, and Georgia was glad she didn’t have to take their order. She could feel their eyes roving over her as she wiped the counters, and she had a knowing feeling they were talking about her. She made a point not to look at them.
Suddenly, Georgia had a pressing urge to go to the bathroom, and realized she hadn’t taken a break since she had started work earlier that morning. Seeing there was no one waiting for her to make another coffee, she hurried off to the bathroom, hoping her short absence would go unnoticed.
After she had finished up in the bathroom, she opened the door into the narrow hallway that lead back to the dining area. As Georgia came out, however, she found her way blocked by somebody. “Excuse me,” she said in a slightly annoyed voice, looking up to see who her obstacle was. An all-too-familiar face loomed down at her. She recognized him from the group of guys that were in the booth out front.
“It’s Georgia, right?” he asked.
She looked at him, trying to place his face. Yes, she did indeed recognize him. Jace Montgomery. He had been in her sister’s class three years ahead of her own. Virginia had known Jace through her sweetheart, Monty. Jace and Monty had been best friends in high school. Virginia never had anything good to say about Jace back then, Georgia recalled, except that he was an arrogant jerk. Georgia looked up at him. He was tall, tan, and dark-haired with an angular, sharp jaw. He actually could have been handsome if it weren’t for that permanent sneer he always seemed to have on his face. “That’s right,” Georgia said. “Now would you please move? I have to get back to work.” She sidestepped around him, but he was one step faster.
He stepped in front of her again, blocking the entire hallway. “Hold on, not so fast there. You were at the park the other night, right? Do you walk there every night with your doggy?”
Georgia didn’t answer his question. “Excuse me, Jace,” she said firmly, raising her voice.
“You know, you should let me walk you sometime. Or maybe we could go out instead.” Jace leaned in uncomfortably close to her, close enough so that Georgia could feel his hot breath on her cheek.
Instinctively, she leaned back, wanting to scream for help. But just then, a familiar voice called over to her from down the hall.
“Miss Georgia? Is that you?”
Jace turned to see who had interrupted them, and Georgia could see now that it was Duke, his red and white striped apron visible from behind Jace’s shoulder. Duke took a step forward and Jace backed off Georgia at his approach, giving her room to breathe again.
Georgia stepped around Jace. “Y-y-yes. I just needed to use the bathroom, but Jace here—”
“I was going to use the bathroom as well before Georgia ran into me.” Jace turned to look at Georgia again, sneering down at her. “You’d better watch where you’re goin’, Georgia! You wouldn’t want to make the wrong person mad now, would you?”
Georgi
a angrily brushed by Jace while he continued to block most of the hallway, not bothering to move.
Duke touched Georgia’s arm reassuringly as she headed back towards the dining area, but he didn’t follow her right away. Georgia stopped and looked back, but Duke nodded at her, narrowing his eyes towards the kitchen and indicating that she should leave. Georgia obeyed and made her way back towards the counter, but not before she heard Duke’s deep voice speak again.
“Now you listen here, son. Ain’t nobody gonna mess with my employees, especially Miss Georgia…”
Georgia smiled smugly. She was glad Duke was her boss. Adding more beans to the grinder, Georgia flipped it on and watched the beans turn to finely milled powder, the sound oddly satisfying.
Chapter 8
Graduation
Four Springs Ago
“It’s almost our turn,” Emmarie whispered excitedly. It was graduation day, and she was practically beaming with joy. She and Landon were standing in line next to the stage, waiting for their names to be called. Their black robes glimmered in the sun, and their tassels swung impatiently as they took another step closer in line. She smiled at her dad in the third row. Maddox looked on with pride, smiling broadly as he watched his daughter.
“Virginia Summer,” the principal announced into the microphone.
Emmarie and Landon watched as Virginia slowly walked up the steps to the stage. All eyes were on her and her swollen belly as she walked across the stage, her stomach nearly bursting. Her curly blonde hair gleamed from under her cap, and she was glowing with happiness. She didn’t care about the whispers she could hear from the crowd as the entire town of Willow Creek scrutinized the young, unwed, soon-to-be mother, their judgments as apparent as the expressions on their faces. She walked across the stage with her head held high, smiling proudly.
“You ready?” Landon asked softly.
She nodded.
He kissed Emmarie on the cheek before whispering in her ear, “Just think, in a week’s time we’ll be on our way to Boston.”
Georgia Summer Page 6