Coffee Shop Girl

by Katie Cross

  The low rumble of Maverick in my office filled the background, far easier on the ears than any radio. It had a soothing effect on the whole shop. I found myself excited to see him in the mornings. Eager to hear him start a call so I could turn down the radio and just hear him.

  “Mama loved pepperoni, especially with stuffed crust.”

  Lizbeth stared at the pizza I’d picked up for lunch from Carlotta’s, a wistful expression on her face. Ellie looked up, her gaze haunted. I leaned back against the counter.

  “I know. She imparted that love to me.”

  “Me too.”

  Lizbeth locked eyes with me for a second, then turned back to her pizza. Ellie stayed glued to Lizbeth’s other side, chewing.

  Grateful to not be cataloguing ways to troubleshoot the cash register if credit card charges didn’t go through, I snagged a second slice. People fail, but pepperoni and melted cheese do not.

  “Do you remember”—I tore off another bite—“when Mama took us swimming in that pond not far from your house? I was fourteen, so you would have been seven.”

  A smile appeared on Lizbeth’s lips. “You had leeches stuck to your legs,” she said. “Ellie thought it was really cool, so she kept pulling them off, and you were yelling at her to quit. Mama couldn’t stop laughing.”

  Despite the vivid memory of those suckers on my leg, I giggled. Tears had run down Mama’s cheeks from laughing so hard.

  “You were only two, Ellie, so you may not remember,” said Lizbeth.

  Ellie frowned.

  “Mama was never afraid of bugs,” I said. “She would kill any spider, cockroach, whatever.”

  “She set them free sometimes,” Lizbeth said. “I think she vented her inner wild child through Ellie. Mama is the reason Ellie loves being outside so much.”

  For a moment, Ellie melted into an eleven-year-old puddle. Her bright eyes darkened, and her expression fell. Mama had been everything to Ellie. Lizbeth had always had friends and books and dreams and other things to focus on. But Ellie?

  Her whole world had been Mama. Mama and the woods.

  Ellie straightened, cocked her head, and scuttled behind the counter. She slipped into the dim pantry without a word. She’d made a sort of bed out of massive bags of coffee beans back there that couldn’t be comfortable, but she seemed happy with it. Lizbeth and I ignored her erratic behavior. It had grown to feel so normal that I didn’t really notice anymore.

  My thoughts swirled on Mama and Ellie for a moment before a jangle at the door caught my attention. I glanced up as Millie Blaine walked into the coffee shop, her blonde hair billowing in curls around her shoulders. The unmistakable scent of hairspray followed her in.

  “Please tell me you have all the caffeine,” she said.

  “For you, I have all the caffeine.”

  Millie replied with a gleaming-white smile.

  Devin trailed in, grinning shyly at me. I brightened. Ellie had been spying on him since the girls arrived ten days ago. Maybe this would be my chance to get rid of that nasty old blanket. Then again, there was no forcing Ellie into anything she wasn’t ready for. If she wanted to meet him, she’d probably just introduce herself.

  A head of dark hair poked out from the pantry right then, as if she could sense his presence.

  “Get me my usual,” Millie said, “but this time as large as you can. I have eight cuts and a highlight today, so it’s going to be nonstop.”

  “I’m on it. Hey, Dev. How are you?”

  He tucked his hands into his pockets. His chocolate eyes stared back at me.

  “He needs some sugar too.” Millie dug into her large purse. “Mac is fixing a tractor today, so Devin came to fish while I work. If you need any help around here, let him know. He’s already bored, even though it’s summer.”

  “I see you out there fishing,” I said to Devin with a warm smile as I rummaged in a drawer for his favorite hot chocolate mix. In the summer, he took hot chocolate on the rocks. “You must love it.”

  Ellie stirred. She remained in the shadows, crouched like a cat on the balls of her feet.

  “Yeah, I love fishing.”

  “My dad used to fish out there.”

  The light in Devin’s eyes immediately faded. Millie put a hand on his shoulder and said to me, “Your father used to fish with Devin all the time. They would sit on the back porch and tie lures together. He misses his fishing buddy. Said he wants to go into the military like your dad. He told him to go with the Marines.”

  My heart caught as if a string had just been pulled through it. “Oh. I didn’t know that, Dev. I’m sorry.”

  “He was teaching me fly-fishing,” Devin mumbled.

  “You know, I hadn’t thought of it before now, but I think he has all kinds of tackle and stuff in the attic. Would you like to have it?”

  “Really?”

  The joy returned to his expression in a heartbeat. I felt immediately better. Without Dad at my side, the fun of fishing had died for me. Slippery, cold fish were gross, but I could deal because Dad loved it so much. The joy had gone out with his death. Devin clearly still loved it.

  He turned to his mom.

  “Mom, maybe he has my lure! I might have left it in his box on accident.”

  “Devin has a lucky lure,” Millie said as I grabbed an empty cup to fill with ice. “We haven’t been able to find it for months now, and his fishing has drastically suffered as a result.”

  Ellie rummaged around in the pantry and knocked something over—an empty cardboard box filled with trinkets. She stood, strode out in her bare feet, and walked right up to Devin. Her hair swung in locks around her face as she extended a fist.

  Devin regarded her, looked at his Mom, then back to Ellie. She opened her clasped hand to reveal several lures and fishhooks.

  “Where did you find those?” I asked.

  “Hey!” Devin cried. “That’s it! That’s my lucky lure.”

  “I found it outside,” Ellie said quietly, as if this wasn’t the second time I’d heard her speak. As if it was so easy for her to do so when she wanted to. “It was in the reeds, tangled around a piece of bark.”

  “Near the big rock?”

  “About thirty paces to the west of that.”

  He grinned. “Thanks. Will you show me where? There might be others.”

  She nodded, grabbed his hand, and tugged him out the back door. I stared, wide-eyed in shock. Lizbeth shrugged when I turned to her in question. Had Ellie actually touched him?

  Millie peered down the now-empty hall, then turned back to me. “Who,” she asked, “was that?”

  Lizbeth peered at me from over the top of her book but went back to reading as if the world hadn’t just shifted. As if Ellie hadn’t acted totally normal and without fear for the first time in what must have been years.

  “That is my half-sister,” I said, overcoming my shock. “Her name is Ellie. She’s eleven. Our sister Lizbeth is right behind you. They’re here to stay.”

  Lizbeth waved a hand, eyes glued to a romance about bakeries and magic.

  “From your mom?” Millie asked.

  I nodded.

  Millie gazed out the drive-through window, toward where Ellie and Devin were combing through the weeds. He had his lure in hand. Mud already coated Ellie’s legs up to the knee. Her long hair trailed into the water as she bent low.

  “She seems . . .” Millie’s gaze tapered, then brightened. “Like she’ll be wonderful for Devin. He’s had a hard time since your father died. Summer means he’s either working in the garage with his dad or stuck with me since his friends are all gone or busy.”

  Devin crouched in the water and reached for something as it swam by. Ellie laughed when he squirted her on accident.

  “I have a feeling you’re right,” I said, filled with unabashed relief.

  Maybe we had a fighting chance after all.

  “No, you can’t reverse the steps, or the machine won’t work. I think. I’ve never tried,” I said, lips pursed as
I regarded the espresso machine.

  Lizbeth grinned maniacally. “Let’s try it.”

  I swatted her hand away and jabbed a finger toward the laptop. “Just take some more notes. We can clean this process up later.”

  The espresso machine had been tricky to learn, but I’d forced myself through it as best I could when Dad first died. Vaguely recalling his actions from when we’d hung out in the shop on my visits had helped. Trying to picture the behemoth through Lizbeth’s eyes now made it easier to break it down into smaller steps. She’d never operated it before, which forced me to remember all the little details.

  Like how to flush it, for one.

  Step back, Maverick had said, and imagine you’re seeing this process for the first time. What can you say, and where can you start, to make this successful for your employee?

  Lizbeth sighed and leaned over the counter to study what we had already done. The sheer number of things I did to run the shop every day boggled my mind. Documenting them had simultaneously exhausted and validated me.

  Lizbeth, who thrilled to the organization and fell more in love with the shop every day, tapped away at the computer. She read aloud what we’d just written, verified processes, and asked questions. Maverick sat at the table, a running ledger of numbers on his computer. Most days he wore a pair of glasses that made him even more attractive.

  If such a thing was possible.

  “We still haven’t discussed the close-down routine,” I muttered. It had been a week since we started this process, and every day we found more to do. More to clean up.

  Numbers to run.

  I suppressed a groan. This process also brought to light my own weaknesses with glaring intensity. Just this morning, I’d run out of whole milk and had to send Lizbeth across the road to the grocery store to buy more. Half the time, I spent more mental space trying to create a definitive process, then follow and test it. Maybe I didn’t make cappuccinos the best way. Was there another way?

  My inventory? A laughingstock.

  No wonder Anthony quit in a fiery huff. I kind of didn’t blame him. I should send him a card. Did they even make sorry-I-fired-you-because-I-suck-as-a-boss kind of cards?

  “Put drive-through customer service on the list too,” I said. “Maverick will want a process for dealing with difficult customers.”

  “Affirmative,” Maverick called from the office in a deep, amused growl. I listened, savoring every second with a fluttering stomach.

  “Can I take a break?” Lizbeth asked, eyes hopeful. A new stack of romance books waited in her usual corner. We’d been at this for over two hours. I had to remind myself that it wasn’t her job to run this place, even though she wanted to help. She was still a teenager and deserved some semblance of a summer.

  She’d likely just spend it with her romance novels, but at least she’d be happy.

  “Of course.”

  With a squeal, she retreated, grabbed her stack of books, set them on the floor, and curled into the chair. Ellie was messing around in the pantry with a few fishing lures I’d given to her and Devin. The two heathens had been running wild outside since they’d met, usually wading in the lake. She impatiently waited for him every morning now. He hadn’t shown up yet, but it didn’t stop her from casting a glare at the door every five seconds.

  “Sandwiches for lunch, Ellie?” I asked.

  She nodded, her tongue stuck out one side of her mouth.

  Outside, a car door slammed. I glanced up to see a willowy figure with red hair and freckled skin standing there, squinting. My heart dropped all the way to my stomach.

  Jim.

  He headed toward the door. Our moment had finally come.

  “Lizbeth, upstairs. Now,” I said quietly. “Ellie, you too.”

  Something in my voice must have clued her in, because Lizbeth didn’t even look. She pitched her book to the floor and scrambled out of the chair. I slid out from behind the counter to block the view of the hallway just as Ellie stood. All color drained from her face when she saw Jim.

  She leaped over the counter.

  Lizbeth grabbed her arm and hurried her into the hallway behind me. My stomach flipped as Jim reached for the handle, yanking the door open. The girls’ feet quietly padded up the steps. The upstairs door locked behind them just as Jim walked inside.

  My upper lip curled into a sneer at first, but I turned it into a surprised half-smile that probably looked feral. Thankfully, today I’d gone with red lipstick. Power red, thinking I’d need it to get through this stupid manual. Plus a pair of flats that went a little too perfectly with this dress.

  I was ready for this.

  “Jim?”

  Jim stopped just inside, his beady eyes darting around the shop. Those eyes were a deep hazel and surprisingly clear. He had Lizbeth’s fair complexion and red hair. The locks were lank and choppy, as if he’d attacked them with a pair of rusty kitchen scissors in the dark. Knowing him, he probably had. Too bad he hadn’t stabbed his eye in the process. A ragged pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a shoe with a missing shoelace completed his ensemble.

  “Bethany. Never thought I’d see you again.”

  Never wanted to, I thought.

  We stood there for a moment, at an impasse.

  “This is . . . unexpected,” I said. “I haven’t heard from you since Mama died.”

  He frowned, valleys furrowing in his forehead. “Been busy.”

  It took all my willpower to gesture to the chalkboard, as if he were any other customer. I strolled behind the counter. “Can I get you a drink? On the house.”

  “No.” He shoved a hand in his pocket, eyes on me as he advanced into the room. I imagined him barreling toward the girls, whiskey on his breath, and stood my ground. My chin tilted up. His gaze flickered with uncertainty.

  “What brings you here?” I asked.

  “The girls.”

  I frowned. “The girls?”

  “They here?”

  “Here?” I echoed again, resting my hands on the counter so he didn’t see them trembling. “Why would they be here?”

  He studied me. His own hands shook. Withdrawal, probably. With any luck, he’d leave, get drunk, and crash his car on the way back.

  He could burn for hours for all I cared.

  “They ran off a while ago.”

  I feigned surprise.

  “That wild idiot Ellie probably put it in Lizbeth’s head to play a prank on me, and they haven’t come back. People are starting to ask.”

  This time I didn’t hold my anger back. They’d been gone for weeks. He probably only came because people were asking.

  “You’ve lost them?”

  “No! They ran off. Not like I could stop them.”

  “As their father.”

  His scowl deepened.

  I let out an exasperated breath. “They’re girls, Jim!” I cried.

  A shadow moved out of the corner of my eye, near the hall. I sensed Maverick’s presence as he slipped out of the office. Jim didn’t appear to notice.

  Jim’s jaw twitched. “Are they here or not?”

  “You know we weren’t all that close. If they did run away, they sure didn’t come to me.”

  He glanced at the stack of romances on the floor. “Those aren’t Lizbeth’s, then?”

  “Mine.”

  “Sure.” He scoffed. “Your daddy struck me as the real romantic type when he kicked your mama out after his deployment.”

  My nostrils flared. “That’s not how it happened, and you know it.”

  “Give me the girls.”

  “They aren’t here,” I hissed.

  “Yet,” he added softly, his intent gaze still boring into mine.

  “If they die out there, that’s on you.”

  He stepped forward. “I never did like you.”

  “The feeling was mutual, I assure you.”

  “Kat talked about you way too much.” Disgust filled his eyes. “All the time. Bethany, Bethany, Bethany. Lizbeth
hated you, too, you know. Fought with a ghost for her mama’s love.”

  His vinegary breath turned my stomach sour. Some of what he said was true. Mama had a hard time controlling her moods. She acted totally enamored with someone, or something, one moment. The next? They were forgotten. Sometimes, that happened to her daughters.

  The bells on the door rang behind him, admitting a familiar flash of sandy hair.

  “Hey, Miss Bethany,” Devin called, “is—”

  “Everything is upstairs that you’ll need to get started, Dev,” I called loudly without taking my eyes off Jim. “Please go upstairs and get started right away.”

  Devin paused, assessed the situation, and immediately headed down the hall. His feet banged up the stairs. Seconds later, the upper door opened and closed.

  “I know you have them,” Jim muttered. “Those are books that Lizbeth loves, and Ellie would know enough to get them here.”

  “If I had them, I would never give them back to you.”

  “Never is a long time.”

  “Especially in prison.”

  He hesitated, studying me. He questioned whether I’d do it—I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t believe I’d take them or rat him out. My careful distance from them over the years certainly gave him reason to doubt. I’d never truly fit in at that house. With my lipstick, my attachment to my dad, and my plans to break into real money one day.

  “Then let’s make this easy on everyone,” he said. “Keep them, but get them back before school starts, or we’re going to have problems. I’ll tell the neighbors they’re visiting their sister for the summer, the way I suspected.”

  He knew.

  Maybe we’d gotten careless, or maybe it was clear they had no one else that Lizbeth would trust, and Ellie would tolerate. Either way, there was no secret now. He knew the girls were here.

  Still, I retorted, “How do I know I shouldn’t call the cops and report them dead?”

  He growled and advanced on me, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. Seconds later, a broad back blocked my view of Jim. I let out a long, steady breath of relief.