Thanksgiving Dream
Eleventh in the
Cupid’s Coffeeshop
Series
By
Courtney Hunt
Thanksgiving Dream
Copyright © Courtney Hunt 2016
All Rights Reserved
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Digital Edition: November 2016
www.Courtney-Hunt.com
For Lynn,
For teaching people how to “of”
Chapter One
On the first day of November, Alice Wells stepped off the school bus into the bright November morning. Instead of trudging in for another long, useless day at school, she slipped around the back of the school bus. She strode purposefully off campus and down the quiet suburban street bordering her high school. She kept her head down, her curtain of long dark hair hiding her face, and concentrated on keeping her pace even and steady, even though she wanted to run. The dried leaves underfoot crunched unnaturally loudly in the quiet air, seeming determined to give her away.
Alice’s heart pounded as she slipped away from school. For the first time in her life, she was skipping. She’d never done anything so wicked or daring. But, she wasn’t just boring Alice Wells any more. As of midnight, she’d become Ashford Falls National Novel Writing Month team captain.
So what if it was a team of one?
Alice was long used to being a team of one.
She’d always been a scribbler, desperately seeking to capture the vivid tales she imagined, ever since she realized that someone wrote the books she devoured as a child. She’d written three novels already—their pages bound and laying under her bed amid the dust bunnies. But this novel would be different. This time, Alice was not only going to finish her work, she was going to publish it. Her fingers tingled just at the thought, eager to start penning her latest story.
Alice wasn’t going to waste time in school today when she only had a month to write fifty thousand words. Writing was far more important than sitting through another day of dull classes, ignored by her classmates and teachers alike. She needed to get cracking.
Alice jumped each time a car sped by, sure her mother, sister, or brother—or anyone else in this tiny town she’d grown up in—would spot her walking away from the high school. Miraculously, no one did. She made it to the center of town in less than ten minutes and slipped into the coffeeshop at the edge of the Ashford Falls square without incident.
She’d arrived during a lull—after the commuters filled up on their morning caffeine but before the town regulars arrived for their coffee klatches. As team captain, she needed a place to hold write-ins, even if just for herself. And she needed to ask the owner’s permission. Alice pretended to be looking at the merchandise as she eyed the counter, searching within herself for an ounce of the courage she gave to her fictional characters.
The Lockharts, the three co-owners of Cupid’s Coffeeshop, stood behind the counter, whispering together. She’d hoped to just find Zooey, the most approachable of the three, working this morning but no such luck. Both Patrick and Joe stood behind the counter this morning. Alice chewed her lip, wondering if she should wait to get Zooey alone later in the day.
Out of long observational habit, she composed mental descriptions for the three Lockharts. Dark-haired Patrick, the eldest, stood just an inch or so taller than his blonde cousin, Joe. Their opposite coloring concealed the obvious family resemblance between them. They had the same chin and high cheekbones, as well as the same broad shoulders. And it went deeper than that—they shared mannerisms, such as the way they both stood, arms crossed, and leaned against the back counter.
Patrick’s sister, Zooey, raked her hand through her long dark hair, her silver rings flashing in the morning sun. She wore a turquoise top and peasant skirt, the vivid colors a bright contrast to the dark walnut counter and red backsplash. She reminded Alice of a tropical bird. Alice edged closer to the counter, still carefully studying the merchandise, so that she could overhear the Lockharts conversation.
People tended to forget Alice was there so she often heard things she shouldn’t.
And in truth, she often took advantage of her frequent invisibility. Eavesdropping was another of her ninja writer skills.
“Cannot come up with a drink for this month.” Joe complained. His creative coffee concoctions were usually the talk of the town each month. Since January, he’d come up with a seasonal drink each month to attract visitors to the store.
“Turkey Toes.” Zooey tidied the counter, her movements quick and efficient. None of them were ever still for long. Managing a bustling coffeeshop proved to be constant work.
“Not too appetizing.” Patrick grimaced. “Gratitude Gulp?”
“Both useless.” Joe shook his head. “How about Thanksgiving Dream?”
“And what the hell is that, Joe?” Patrick snapped. This close, Alice noted the dark purple circles under his eyes and the tense set of his mouth.
She’d heard her sister, Harper, say that the coffeeshop operated on a razor thin profit margin. The three cousins only had another sixty days to make a profit. According to the terms of their grandmother’s unusual will, if they did, the coffeeshop would be theirs. If not, they’d lose everything, including the shop itself.
But only Patrick looked tense and miserable. Alice considered. Just last week, she’d heard her brother’s girlfriend—who also happened to be Harper’s best friend—tell Harper that she wished their mutual friend, Joy, would go for Patrick. But Joy was engaged. Perhaps that was the cause of Patrick’s obvious misery.
She studied Joe Lockhart. She’d heard Sarah, the head cheerleader at school, describe Joe as movie star gorgeous. Alice couldn’t argue with that but she’d also heard that he’d fallen for the new owner of Berry Hill Farm, Molly McCarthy. And everyone knew about Zooey’s new love, the town’s newest lawyer, Charlie Lyons. Joe and Zooey had that same radiantly happy look that her sister wore when she looked at her new boyfriend, Cooper, or the way her brother looked at Kennedy.
Since the new coffeeshop opened, falling in love seemed to be a new hobby in Ashford Falls. Alice scowled at the tchotchkes. Not that that would happen to her or anything. Not that she even wanted to fall in love. She just wanted a place to write. Screwing up her courage she inched closer to the counter.
“It’s caramel syrup and brown sugar.” Joe fussed around behind the counter for a bit and held out a crimson coffee mug to Zooey.
She took a sip and smiled. “It’s like crème burley in a cup.”
“Fine.” Patrick threw up his hands. “We’ll go with that.”
Alice rummaged through her battered backpack before gripping write-in flyers in her nerveless fingers. She’d put off this task for too long but she squared her shoulders and strode up to the counter.
“Hi Alice.” Patrick smiled reflexively, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Alice rather thought that Kennedy had the right of it. Patrick looked like a man suffering unrequited love. “What can I get you?”
“I actually…” Alice began, her voice little more than a whisper. She drew in a deep breath. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about holding write-ins here.”
“What’s a write-in?” Patrick asked, taking one of the flyers she held out.
“When a group of writers get together and write.” Alice said. “See, November is N
ational Novel Writing Month—some people call it NANOWRIMO—and I’m the Ashford Falls captain and so…”
“Nano what?” Joe asked, peering at the flyer over Patrick’s shoulder.
“How many writers?” Zooey chimed in.
“Me for now.” Alice shrugged. “But people can join in all month.”
“So just you then.” Joe laughed. “Sure, you’re welcome to work here.”
“Can I hang up my flyer in the window?” Alice asked and Joe nodded.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Patrick asked.
“Well, I should, but those fifty thousand words aren’t going to write themselves so…”
“Let me get you a Thanksgiving Dream then.” Joe offered. “Extra espresso shot?”
“Sounds great.” Alice nodded, relief swamping her. One hurdle down, fifty thousand to go.
Chapter Two
By mid-afternoon, Alice had already written half a dozen pages in her notebook. She’d commandeered a table in the farthest corner of the shop, facing the window. At lunch, she’d gone for a walk and grabbed a sandwich, figuring the fresh air would do her good. Also, it took her out of the coffeeshop at the busiest time of day, when her mother or Harper might decide to visit. By one o’clock, she was already back at her table, scribbling away, bursting with new ideas. Starting a new novel was always the easy part.
Idly, she tapped her pen on the table, as she stared out the coffeeshop window, trying to think of a good name for a dragon. Outside in the square, fallen leaves danced and skittered around in the cold wind under a heavy leaden sky. She was just trying to decide if the clouds were pewter or gunmetal when a group of high school kids arrived in the square. School must be out already.
A tall boy, not quite a man yet, stood in the middle, the throng shifting around him, forming and reforming with him always at the center. A blonde girl preened next to him, happy to have his arm wrapped around her. The weak sunlight burnished his chestnut curls, highlighting the auburn strands. Alice didn’t need to see his face to know who it was.
Kieran Kincade, reigning heartthrob of Ashford Falls High School.
Everyone knew Kieran. Homecoming King, football quarterback, and son of the principal.
Alice sighed as the group tumbled into the shop, bringing noise and bustle to the peaceful shop. She’d need to be getting home herself soon, as tonight was her night to babysit her niece, Layla. Still, she’d hope to finish this scene today. She’d indulge herself in a ten-minute writing sprint and then…
“Hey.” Kieran said, before dropping into the chair across from her. Alice blinked. Was Kieran Kincade speaking to her? Before she could force herself to speak, he continued, “You weren’t in school today.”
Alice blinked again. Why would someone like Kieran notice if she was in school or not? To her knowledge, he hadn’t ever noticed her existence before. He’d certainly never spoken to her before today.
“What do you want to drink, Kieran?” The blonde girl from the square appeared next to Kieran, dropping a proprietary hand to his shoulder. Alice didn’t know her name but recognized her as one of the senior cheerleaders. As she and Kieran were both juniors, she’d never had a class with the girl. She spared a puzzled scowl for Alice before favoring Kieran with a beaming smile.
“I’ll get something in a minute, babe.” Kieran grinned charmingly at her. “I gotta chat with my friend Alice first. Be over in a second.”
My friend? She hadn’t even realized he knew her name. Alice admired his cool charm when the girl sauntered away to stake out the best position on the cozy love seat nearest the fire.
“You were telling me why you weren’t in school.” Kieran turned the full wattage of his smile on her. In spite of herself, Alice’s pulse thumped in her wrists as her stomach swooped. Kieran was really rather ridiculously good looking.
“I was writing.” When Kieran’s gaze dropped to her notebook, she flipped it shut. Alice didn’t like sharing her work before she’d had a chance to polish it. Or ever actually.
“American Novel Month or something, right?”
“National Novel Writing Month.” Alice corrected automatically.
“Ms. Young said you’re the team captain.”
Alice nodded, wondering why their English teacher would have shared that information with Kieran Kincade of all people.
“Great. I’d like to join.”
“You’d like to join?” Alice parroted, staring at him in disbelief. “You want to write a novel?”
“Not at all.” Kieran shook his head. “But I don’t want to fail English so…”
“Fail English?” Though she didn’t think Kieran was ever the top of the class in anything, she’d never gotten the impression he struggled academically. He seemed to be one of those demigods that everything came easily to. “If you’re having trouble, maybe a tutor?”
“I don’t need a tutor.” Kieran shifted and then leaned closer. This close, she caught the sharp scent of fresh pine, November air, and spice. “See, I’ve missed Ms. Young’s class a lot—”
“You mean you’ve skipped.” She rolled her eyes. Alice knew that Kieran spent that time making out with his girlfriend of the week. His reputation was legendary. Even she’d heard the rumors.
“Well, if you want to be precise about it.” Kieran smiled that crooked little grin that got him everything he wanted most of the time. “But, if I don’t want Ms. Young to tell my dad…”
“You have to write a novel.” Alice crossed her arms over her chest. “Must be tough having your dad be the principal.”
“You’ve got no idea.” Kieran answered, with just an edge of bitterness in his voice. He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd of kids arrayed across the coffeeshop, with a careful space next to the blonde saved just for him. The girl tossed her long hair over her shoulder and patted the cushion. Kieran called, “Be there in a second.”
He turned back to Alice. “So, can I be on the team, Captain Al?”
“It’s Alice.” Alice corrected. “You don’t strike me as the creative writing sort.”
“I’m not.”
“Have you ever written before?”
“Papers and stuff.”
“I mean creatively.”
“No but…” Here he shot her that crooked grin again. Alice ignored the way her heart flip-flopped in her chest. “How hard can it be?”
Refraining from laughing in his face, Alice sighed. People always thought writing was easy, until they tried it. “Well, of course, you’re welcome to join.”
“It’s fifty thousand words, right?”
“By 30 November. That’s about 1700 words a day.” Alice said. “Do you have an idea for your story yet?”
Kieran shook his head.
Alice drew a deep breath and restrained herself from rolling her eyes. “Well, you probably want to start there.”
“So will you be at school tomorrow?”
Alice shrugged. She probably could get away with missing today but chronic skipping wasn’t a good idea. Besides, she, unlike Kieran, knew that the writing would only get harder as the month wore on. She might need to save up her skip days.
“You’re in my history class, right?”
“Yes.” Alice stammered. She’d had no idea that Kieran had ever even noticed her in class before.
“You’re always scribbling in your notebook in class.” Kieran considered her, his eyes locked on her face. “I thought you were taking notes but you’re actually writing, aren’t you?”
Alice flushed but, holding his gaze, nodded once.
“You must like to write. A lot.”
“More than anything else.” Alice answered, bracing herself for his derision.
“That’s cool.” Kieran smiled. “Thanks for adding me to the team.”
She passed him a crumpled flyer. “I thought I’d do write-ins a few times a week here at the coffeeshop. You’re welcome to attend, if you like. It’s not required.”
“Sounds great.”
“Well, I’ve gotta go babysit my niece so see you later.” Alice stood, awkwardly piling her notebook into her backpack.
“Yeah, I better go hang with them.” Kieran gestured to his rowdy group of friends. “Hey, any tips to get started writing a novel?”
“Start with once upon a time and go from there.”
Chapter Three
A week later, Kieran arrived home after football practice just after sunset. He bounded up the stairs to his room, opening his laptop to his work in progress. While running drills, he’d gotten a great idea for his next scene and he wanted to capture the idea while it was still fresh. Though he had trigonometry homework to do and a test in history tomorrow, he promised himself he’d just write for five minutes.
In just the few days he’d been writing, he’d found himself drawn into his fictional world repeatedly. He’d overhear conversations and decide to use them as dialogue. Or he’d figure out the next scene in class and have to scribble fiercely to get the idea down. He’d be doing some mundane activity only to think of some amazing plot twist. To his very great shock, he wanted to spend more time with his characters than his real life.
Who knew this writing thing was actually kinda fun?
His fingers flew over the keyboard until a sharp tap on the door shattered his concentration. He blinked, disoriented to find himself in his own bedroom instead of a medieval jousting field. A quick glance at his phone told him that over half an hour had elapsed while he was lost in his make believe world.
“You okay, kiddo?” His grandfather, Chris Kincade, stuck his head in.
“Yeah.” Kieran carefully saved his work and shut the computer. “Why?”
“You didn’t eat half the fridge after practice.”
“Just had a lot of homework.” Kieran stood and stretched. “Supper ready?”
“Just about.” Chris stepped back to allow Kieran to pass him in the narrow upstairs hallway. Kieran carefully avoided his speculative gaze. His grandpa served as Ashford Falls Fire Chief. His years in the fire house had given him a keen understanding of young people. Though he knew his grandfather would be supportive of his newfound interest, Kieran just wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about his new found passion yet.
Thanksgiving Dream (Cupid's Coffeeshop Book 11) Page 1