Small Town Hearts

by Lillie Vale

  First, grind the coffee beans. Darker the better. Brazilian was my personal favorite. You couldn’t grind the beans too fine, or else you’d end up with a grainy mess in your coffee. Too coarse and you’d waste the beans’ flavor. I carefully poured filtered water into a clean French press along with the coffee grounds.

  We had to let it sit for fifteen hours, minimum, in the fridge before taking it out. Tomorrow, when we had our first iced coffee order, we’d push down the plunger and serve the aromatic, chilly drink over ice.

  Working together every day, in a small amount of space, had perfected our movements until we were always in sync.

  “’Scuse me,” said Lucy as she edged around me, her arm snaking for the fridge door. “Need the milk.”

  I waited until she withdrew the half gallon of milk before squeezing the press between pitchers of fruit juice. By the time I closed the fridge, someone was already waiting for me.

  My smile turned from welcoming to flustered, and everything inside me tingled and sparked. I was attracted to him, there was no denying that.

  “Hey,” said Lucy, not sounding surprised.

  “Hi, Lucy,” said Levi. He shot her a lazy grin and shoved his hands into his pockets. In red gingham shorts and a white cotton shirt, he looked every inch a beach boy.

  Levi’s smile dimpled when our eyes met. “Hey there.”

  “Black coffee, coming up,” I said, hand already on the coffeepot handle. It was his standing order and one that I’d gotten familiar with the past few days.

  Instead of seating himself, he waited by the counter, watching me fill the cup in a steady stream. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you think you could”—he pulled a map out of his pocket and laid it on the counter—“gimme some pointers on the prettiest places to paint in Oar’s Rest?”

  In the top right corner of the map were the words Oar’s Rest Tourist Office. It was folded in fourths, with the tourist office circled in red on the map and squiggly arrows pointing in various directions up the roads. One of the arrows led up to the lighthouse.

  He ran his hand through his hair. “I haven’t had much of a chance to explore. I’ve been at the art center.”

  “Oh yeah? How’s that been?”

  “Unbelievable,” he enthused at once. “Everyone is so talented. It’s amazing to be around that kind of energy.”

  I pointed a highlighter-yellow fingernail against the tiny depiction of the lighthouse. “This would be the best place.”

  He looked down with interest. “Cool. Thanks.” But he didn’t leave. It was like he wanted to say something more, but didn’t know how.

  Conflict warred inside me. I liked Levi, but I had also wanted this summer to be all about me and my friends. How did a summer boy factor into that equation? Then again, my dream of the perfect summer already seemed like it was sinking. I hated change, but maybe just this one time, a teeny tiny one would be okay?

  I wanted to keep the conversation going, hopefully in a more articulate way than I had last time. “It’s sort of a twisty road, so it’s better without a car,” I said. “I don’t work tomorrow, but Lucy needs me to cover for her a couple hours in the morning. I’m totally free after the breakfast crowd. If you want, I could take you up there.”

  Levi nodded. “I’d love that. Thanks.” He hands folded around the cup. “I’ll meet you here?”

  “It’s a date.” My mouth clamped shut. Had I really just said that?

  He didn’t appear to notice. Relieved he hadn’t seemed amused, or worse, weirded out, I pretended to be busy rearranging the spoons. When I looked up again, he was at his usual table, already sketching, totally oblivious.

  Whew.

  * * *

  By the end of the day, only two slices of cake remained in the glass dome. I packed them up for Tom and his friend Ralph, waving off their money when they both reached into their pockets.

  In twenty minutes, Busy’s would close for the night, but Levi showed no signs of leaving. He was still scrunched over his sketchbook, feverishly sweeping his hand across the page.

  Tom glanced over his shoulder, catching the direction of my gaze. He tucked the portable chess set under his arm. “That the kid who’s staying in your house?”

  Insistently, Ralph smoothed out a crumpled five-dollar bill on the counter. “Talented,” he commented. “And hardworking. I was on the selection committee.”

  I firmly pushed the money back to him with a smile. “No way.”

  Both men were like grandfathers to me. Whether it was showing up to horrible plays in elementary school—out-clapping every other parent there, even when I forgot my lines—or helping me move into the lighthouse, they were there.

  Tom’s encouragement of my baking, even researching the law to make sure I could sell my confections in his coffee shop, presented itself in mixing bowls, imported spices, and pastry books at Christmas. And Ralph’s deft fingers had painted a mural on the ceiling of my lighthouse, a blue-and-white sky, and sunflowers in the kitchen, birds on the banister of the stairs.

  When it came to these two, my treats were on the house. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. After a few more futile protests, they ambled out, arguing good-naturedly about their chess game.

  Lucy had already taken off, and there was nothing left to do. Except kick Levi out.

  Okay, I wasn’t going to do that. I glanced at my cell phone. He still had a good ten minutes.

  I could always find something to look busy, even if it meant refilling all the sugar cellars again, though I had already done it yesterday. Together, Lucy and I had managed to catch up on all of Ariel’s work, so I couldn’t even hide out in the storeroom to kill time.

  I idled at the counter, scrolling through my phone. Chad’s face popped up on Instagram, captioned No place like home with the sailboat and beach umbrella emojis.

  I exhaled, then swiped up so fast that his face went spinning into the ether.

  Next I checked my bank account, happy to see that my savings account had grown since last month. Tom was still a long way from retirement, but when he was ready, I hoped to have enough to take over Busy’s for him. While he’d already dropped hints to me that it would be staying in the Busy’s family, I still wanted to make him a fair—no, generous—offer.

  When I grew bored, I studied Levi. Surreptitiously, of course, so he wouldn’t notice. From under lowered lashes, pretending to still look at my phone, I lost myself in the quiet grace of his hand moving across the paper. His eyes were intent on his work, nose scrunched up as he bent closer to the page. His arm moved more feverishly, sending the pencil in short scratches.

  My phone chimed. Penny’s name popped up on my screen.

  Levi jerked his head up, frowning at the interruption. His face cleared after a second and he got up. “You waiting on me?” He loped toward me, coffee cup in his hand. He’d been nursing the same one for hours, until Lucy had insisted on a free refill.

  “A little bit,” I admitted. “Don’t wanna push you out the door, though.”

  He laughed. “No worries. I’m the only one here, and I’d feel bad if I made you stay just for me.”

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the cup he held out. “You didn’t have to bring me the—”

  “I was heading here anyway.” His cheeks were pink. “Figured I’d save you the trouble.”

  He settled his bill, insisting on paying for the refill.

  “It was free.” I rifled in my apron to find the key to the antiquated cash register. When the cash drawer sprang open with an obliging twist of the brass key, I tucked his five inside, counted out three dollars in change, and then closed the drawer. The little metallic click resonated in the silence.

  His smile grew flustered. “Seriously, I can’t accept—” He put one dollar back in his wallet, but left the others on the counter.

  I raised a challenging eyebrow at Levi. “I’m all locked up for the night.”

  He eyed me, then dropped bot
h ones in the tip jar.

  My lip twitched. “Well played.” I acknowledged the move with a half bow.

  He was fighting a grin, too. “Thank you.”

  A few quick punches and pulls and the electric appliances were turned off, odds and ends were put away, and the leftover coffee grounds were dumped into the old aluminum canister that the beans had come in.

  Levi watched with interest as I thwacked the last of the grounds into the can. “We sell it for garden and compost piles,” I explained.

  “Is there a lot of money in that?”

  I heaved the heavy canister under the counter and turned my back to Levi as I scrubbed the filter clean and replaced it in the coffee machine. “Not really, but the owner of this place—that’s Tom, he was in here earlier—I asked him whether I could start this initiative as a way to keep our grounds out of the landfills, and he loved the idea. He said if I could find a way to make money out of it, it was all mine.”

  I shrugged, straightening up and working a kink out of my spine. “But it’s not about the money.” I pulled the apron over my head and hung it on a round peg next to the sink, half-draped over Lucy’s.

  “I wish more people cared about the environment. I think what you’re doing is really great.”

  I rounded the side of the counter and headed for the door. About to push it open, I was surprised when Levi reached it faster and held it open. “Thanks,” I muttered, hoping he didn’t see my cheeks flame. It was a little embarrassing how flattered I was at his admiration.

  A blast of warm air hit me and I inhaled the sweet, sweet scent of sand and sea. It was more intoxicating than any bottled fragrance—even the clean scent that was clinging to Levi. I glanced at him. His head was tipped up and his eyes were closed. A tiny smile played on his lips, like he was enjoying the same thing I was. I knew I’d remember that smile a lot longer than just tonight.

  Levi’s eyes opened and he caught me staring. “Sorry. I just—I really love that smell. It never gets old. Do you … do you smell it that way, too? Or are you used to it?”

  “Every time still feels like the first,” I said with a smile.

  Before the door closed, I snagged my arm behind Levi and turned off the lights. While he waited, I pulled the door shut, locked up, and slid the key down the front pocket of my shorts.

  “Have a good night,” he said as I reached for my bike.

  It was propped against the peeling green paint of the Busy Bean’s wall, sans chain and lock. In Oar’s Rest, neighbors looked out for neighbors.

  “You too.” I wanted to say more, and from the way he was looking at me, he might have wanted to say more, too.

  “So, um, I meant to ask…” Levi visibly reddened.

  I cocked my head. “Yeah?”

  “I overheard some of the people at Busy’s calling you ‘Babe’ over the last few days.” He scratched his neck, then made a face. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “Uh … no?”

  “Not even when the old guys say it?”

  It took me a moment to get it. My lips twitched as I tried not to smile. “Why would it?” I asked innocently. A beat. I had to let him out of his misery. “Babe is short for Barbara,” I explained.

  The relief in his exhale was palpable. “You had me going for a minute. It was driving me crazy, because I wanted to ask you but I wasn’t sure how it would sound,” said Levi. He shot me a sheepish grin. “Um, so I’ll … I’ll see you tomorrow, then? If we’re still on.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Another beat. My stomach fizzed pleasantly. “Do you have a bike?”

  “No.” His eyes twinkled. “City boy, remember?”

  “Won’t be a problem.” I knew where I could get one. “Meet me here at ten o’clock tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here,” he said.

  As I pedaled away, I resisted the urge to look around. It was a strange sensation to like someone else. Not physically, although there was that, too. But just the rapport and chemistry that came with finding someone who fit you. Someone who never seemed like a stranger, even though that’s what they were. I’d been part of a trio for so long that it was rough figuring out how to make it work with someone new, where it was just us two. El had been the first.

  It startled me how very much I wanted Levi to be the second.

  five

  The next day, I borrowed a bicycle from the local bike rental for Levi. I left it next to mine in front of Busy’s. I’d never been eager to leave work before, but today I was counting down the minutes.

  My excitement didn’t go unnoticed by Lucy, who threw me curious glances as I peeled the apron over my head. “Thanks for covering for me this morning,” she said, mouth working into a funny smile. She touched her jaw and winced.

  “Still sore?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Eating all your delicious food has contributed to way too many cavities.”

  “Hey, you’re not blaming me for that.” I lobbed my apron at her.

  “It’s a compliment!” She caught my apron and hung it up. “Anyway, I don’t want to hold you up.” She grinned. “Enjoy your date!”

  I gave her a look.

  “Day,” she said. “I totally meant to say ‘Enjoy your day.’”

  I laughed and headed for the door. “See ya later.”

  Once outside, I shaded my eyes against the sun. The street was quiet, only the low buzz of voices from the beach breaking the stillness of the late morning. The door of a shop opened, bell jangling, and I instinctively turned.

  My breath caught.

  Elodie.

  Her curly brown hair was pushed over one shoulder. The sight of her bare neck shot prickles down my spine, electrifying toward the backs of my knees. She was saying something to her mother and swinging a shopping bag from her wrist.

  I exhaled through my nose. The last time we’d spoken, we’d been at my lighthouse. The air had whipped our cheeks pink, sent our hair flying into tangles. She’d been crying, or I’d been crying, and all I could taste was salt as she’d kissed me goodbye for the last time. She wanted a clean break, a chance to leave and be someone new. She didn’t want midnight texts or silly Snapchats or longing confessions of how much I wanted her back. I would have gone with her, if only she’d asked. I would have been her secret for as long as she wanted, if only she hadn’t buried me along with the rest of her old life.

  California had been good to her. Elodie was a natural golden-brown, but now she was glowing bronze from the sun, and more freckled. Unlike my skin, hers wouldn’t turn pale in the winter.

  Mrs. Hawkins touched her ballerina bun like she was checking that it was still there. Satisfied that it was, she dropped her hand from her sleek platinum hair. Her heels, preposterously high, drew her to Elodie’s height, but even her summer tan couldn’t compare to her daughter’s tawny radiance.

  Elodie and her mother were coming closer. Closer. I willed her to look at me. She had to see me standing there.

  Elodie began to turn toward me, and my mouth lifted into a welcoming smile, but then—

  She touched her mom’s arm and pointed toward a shop on the other side of the street. She was still too far away for me to make out what she was saying, but her mom nodded, and in one excruciatingly quick moment, their direction changed. They were moving away from me.

  Horror rose in my stomach, my throat swimming with all the things I wished I could say to her: Why? Why? Why?

  I tried to console myself by thinking she hadn’t seen me, but I couldn’t shake the sense that she had. That she’d seen me waiting for her, and had deliberately gone the other direction.

  When she was on the other side of the country, she existed in vague ex-girlfriend terms. It had been easy to push the hurt away. But this Elodie was back in my town, memories given life. Flesh and blood.

  And she’d just treated me like a total stranger. All the hurt came rushing back, tenfold.

  I wanted to crumple in on myself, but I didn’t have long to be deflated. A silhouette appr
oached from the beach, blackened with shadow. The features sharpened into focus as he got closer, and my heart felt a little less bruised when I saw him raise a hand in a wave.

  Levi wore khaki shorts and a periwinkle formfitting shirt with a tiny green alligator over the left breast. The Ray-Bans tucked into his shirt flashed metallic blue. He had a canvas backpack with him, the straps digging into his shoulders.

  I cleared my throat and gestured to the cherry-red bike next to mine. “Hop on.”

  “Thanks. Where’d you find the bike?”

  “Borrowed it from a friend who owns a bike shop.”

  Levi gripped the handlebars and swung one leg over the seat. “Ready when you are, Cap’n.”

  And then we were off.

  * * *

  We passed the florist on our way up. She couldn’t wave back to me because of an armful of flowers, but over the profusion of pink and purple hyacinths, I saw her broad grin.

  “You know everyone in Oar’s Rest, don’t you?” Levi called.

  I grinned into the wind.

  The heart of the town ran parallel to the beach, the grime from the sand and sea staining the bottoms of the houses black and gray, a gradient against the pastels. When you biked higher, the houses were less weather-beaten, and could afford to be painted white. We passed wisteria-draped hotels and restaurants set into the cliff wall. A few of the owners waved to me as they turned the CLOSED sign on the door to OPEN.

  “There’s chowder today, Babe!” called out Mrs. Mackenzie as she flapped red-and-white-checked tablecloths over her outdoor seating. “I’ll set some aside for you.”

  I slowed down just enough to answer her. “Thank you! I’ll come by after the tour!”

  “What tour?” Levi asked over the sound of pedaling and wind rushing past our ears.

  You’ll see, summer boy.