by C Farren
As they walked Wren, Dot, and Aarna chatted about various issues going on in the town at the moment.
“One of my Twitter friends in England said they saw Kerry outside Buckingham Palace,” said Aarna. She had on a cute pink Russian pillbox hat. “They sent a photo but it was blurry. It could be her, though, or it could be Sandra Bullock.”
“Why would Kerry be at Buckingham Palace?” Dot asked.
“Why not? She’s probably in London to go on the Jack the Ripper tour or something. Who knows what goes on in that twisted mind of hers?”
Wren kept quiet. She knew exactly where resident killer and psychopath Kerry Rickard was, and it wasn’t in London having tea with Queen Elizabeth II. She was on a deserted island in the South China Sea, though sometimes Wren wished Fiona had transported her to the moon instead. The farther away, the better as far as she was concerned.
“What did the sheriff say?” Dot asked.
“I emailed him the photo but he hasn’t gotten back to me yet,” Aarna answered. “It probably was Sandra Bullock.”
“I hope they catch her,” said Dot, sounding a little scared. “Kerry, not Sandra Bullock.” Dot shivered. “That girl killed her father and grandmother and destroyed a town landmark. Who knows what she might do next? She could be planning her next murder even as we speak.”
Wren wished she could reassure her mother that the town was safe from Kerry but she wouldn’t believe her story anyway. Still, it was worth thinking about. It would be good to have someone to talk to about what really happened.
They stopped outside the Metropolitan. Wren looked up and down the building’s façade. The windows had been cleaned and polished. The signage had been touched up. The snow had been removed from the sidewalk. All she had to do was put the key in the lock and step inside.
Her mother put a hand on her arm. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
“I wish Dad could be here to see this,” said Wren.
And Fiona.
“He’s with you in spirit,” Dot consoled her. “Besides, he’ll be out of prison in another six weeks or so. When he’s released he’ll be in here all the time. You’ll never get rid of him.”
She nodded and unlocked the door. It was sweet inside, like chocolate, sugar, and coffee. It was a heavenly aroma. When things really started going it would smell even more divine.
Wren smiled, satisfied. “Right. Let’s get started.”
Chapter 3
“Morning, sweetie!” Wanda called.
Wren opened the door for her. Wanda was carrying a large wicker basket that contained her famous blueberry scones. She’d baked them for the previous owner and had graciously offered her services to Wren. They’d been a popular seller and she hoped they still would be – as long as Wren didn’t eat them all first.
“I could smell these all day,” said Wren as Wanda started unpacking. “You could market the aromas as a perfume and make millions.”
Wanda grinned. “I’m glad I could help. Have you got everything sorted? I know how exhausting it is to start your own business.”
“I think so.” She looked around. Aarna was unpacking the paper straws, which had been delivered yesterday. Dot was giving the floor one final sweep. Reo, their new hire (who also worked part time at Benedict’s drag bar) was sorting the cartons of milk out which had been delivered that morning. “Yes, everything is fine.”
“Glad you’re confident. That will make today go a lot smoother.”
After Wanda left, despite Wren asking her to stay and sit down for a rest, Wren returned to her work. There was now half an hour to go until opening time and the nerves were creeping in and her inner saboteur was playing up.
Am I going to fail?
Did I order enough milk?
I’m stupid and I have no idea what I’m doing!
She pushed those thoughts aside. They were intrusive and wrong. She did know what she was doing. She had ordered enough milk. And what if she did fail? At least she’d tried, and that meant something. She could do this.
“Have you decided what to do with the stage yet?” Reo asked.
Reo was a six-foot Japanese drag queen, though right now he was in modern male clothing. He had pretty, feminine features, and often wore eyeliner to accentuate his green eyes. She’d only ever seen him in drag and had been surprised when Benedict brought him around a week ago, saying he needed a job. She’d been happy to take him on.
“I have Reba doing stand-up tomorrow evening,” said Wren, eyes on the little stage. “She’s going to be really funny.”
Reo grinned. “I’d like to have a go if it’s okay. Well, not stand-up. I’m not really that funny. But I love performing. I could do a song or two.”
“In drag?”
“If that’s okay.”
It was a wonderful idea. She’d only gotten Reba booked for a weekly gig so far and she needed more entertainment if she was to keep her reputation intact. Not that she had a reputation as of yet, but after today she knew she had to keep the momentum going. The Metropolitan was going to be a different type of coffee shop, after all.
Something caught her eye across the street, outside where the Rickard Toy Store once stood. The remains of the building had been cleared away now. The only evidence that it had ever existed was a blank space between the two buildings on either side. Lenny was standing there, looking forlorn.
They hadn’t talked much since Christmas. Ever since Wren found out about his various lies and Christmas Diamond shenanigans, she hadn’t fully trusted him. She wanted to trust him, though. They’d been friends for a very long time. She really did want him in her life. She’d told him she just needed time and everything would eventually be fine.
Wren knocked on the window. He turned and looked at her. He waved and walked away.
“Jenny tells me he’s doing well in his new job,” said Dot. “He certainly did learn a lot about law while in jail.”
“That’s good,” said Wren, happy for him.
“I don’t know what went on between you two, but please make up. He’s miserable, and I can tell you miss him.”
She returned to work. She couldn’t think about Lenny or anyone, not today. The Metropolitan had to be the sole thing on her mind.
Wren was about to look over the menus and check for typos for the tenth time that morning when her cellphone rang. It was the prison.
“Just wishing you good luck,” said her dad. He sounded jubilant this morning.
“Thanks,” said Wren. His voice made a lot of her doubts just disappear. “It’s been hectic but hopefully it’ll all work out.”
“I’m very proud of you.”
Wren blushed. “Thanks.”
She passed the phone over to her mother, and the two of them talked. Dot looked a little hesitant and Wren had to wonder if Anthony had anything to do with it. Her mother’s ex-lover was hanging around a lot lately. Apparently the two of them were just friends now, but Wren couldn’t be sure. Anthony made her mother smile, which was a rarity these days.
Is it really any of my business?
Wren liked to think her mother didn’t want to be known as a cheater. Her reputation meant something to her. And what would her father think?
Dot switched off the phone and sighed. “I can see the way you’re looking at me.”
“Did you tell Dad about Anthony hanging around like a bad smell?” Wren demanded.
“We’re just friends,” Dot insisted. “I’ve told you that.”
“I’m not sure I believe you. You’ve been smiling so much lately, and I think that’s down to Anthony. Am I right?”
Dot shrugged. “We’re not sleeping together. We’re not even kissing. We’re just spending time together as friends. I know that he loves me, but that’s all I can give him.”
Wren pulled her mother in for a hug. They both needed it.
“Now stop worrying about me and start worrying about how you’re going to make coffee for all those people,” said her mother.
Wren
turned and looked out of the window. A dozen people were waiting outside for the opening. There were faces she recognized and faces she didn’t. Her Aunt Jenny and Uncle Camden gave her a friendly wave.
I didn’t know there’d be this many customers!
“Who are all these people?” Wren asked. Most of the new customers were youngsters, maybe in their early twenties. “I don’t know any of them.”
Aarna came up to her. “Those are my friends from college. I told them if they didn’t come down I’d never speak to them again.”
Aarna’s friends looked like the kind of snowflake hipsters who lived in coffee bars and were offended by everything. If she so much as blinked at them the wrong way she’d be denounced as transphobic on Twitter and her coffee shop would be cancelled online.
“Don’t worry,” said Aarna. “They’re cool. I’ve warned them that if they try to cancel you on Twitter then I’d cancel them. I have way more followers than they do.”
“You’re a star,” Wren told her. She looked up at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes left. I’m not sure I can do this. It’s too much. “I need some fresh air,” said Wren, starting to have a panic attack.
“Wren!” Aarna called.
She ignored her friends’ cries and ran through the door into the back rooms. She went for the door that opened up onto the alleyway.
Breathe...
Breathe...
She pushed open the door and almost staggered out into the cold January air. She leaned against the building, breathing in and out, in and out.
“I’ve already done it,” she told herself out loud. “You’ve gotten through the hard part. Now all you have to do is make coffee and smile at the public. That’s easy, right?”
Wren jumped as someone approached her. It was Maureen.
“Do you want some whisky?” Maureen asked. “I have a flask tucked into my bra.”
Wren shook her head. “No. I... I’m just having a little panic attack.”
“You should comb your hair before you go back in. It looks like a bird’s nest.”
Wren laughed. “I love your honesty, you know that?” She took a few more deep breaths. “Tell me more honest things. It centers me.”
Maureen looked thoughtful for a few seconds and said, “I have the utmost faith in you. If anyone can run a business, it’s you.”
As far as Wren was concerned she couldn’t receive any better praise than that.
“Come in,” Wren offered. “You can be my very first customer.”
“On the house?” Maureen asked.
Wren grinned. “First coffee on the house.”
“Sometimes you’re mean.”
They laughed, and for a second there, Wren didn’t miss Fiona almost as much as she did earlier.
Chapter 4
“How are you feeling today?” the therapist asked.
Fiona shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ve only been out of angelic cleansing for five days. I’m not sure how I feel.”
Angelic cleansing had been the oddest thing she’d ever experienced. It required her to stay in bed while eight angels stared at her for a week straight. She didn’t eat or drink. She didn’t sleep. She didn’t use the restroom. It was quite strange.
“Do you want to commit any evil acts?” asked the therapist.
Fiona shrugged again. “I’m fighting this urge to punch you in the face and throw you out of the window, but apart from that I’m fine.” Fiona gasped. She hadn’t meant to say that, but she was seriously imagining it. How great would it be to break her therapist’s nose and watch their body fly through the clouds as they plummeted to their death?
“That would pose no danger to me,” said the angel therapist, Cynthia. “I am immortal and I can fly.”
“It would be fun for me though,” said Fiona. She gasped again. “No! I didn’t mean it. Oh dear, what’s wrong with me? I thought the demonic energies had gone?”
“They are, but traces might still remain.”
“You mean I could suddenly want to attack you with your pen at any moment?”
Cynthia wrote something down on her notepad. Fiona couldn’t keep her eyes off her pen. It would make a very damaging weapon in the right hands.
What am I thinking? I’d never hurt someone with a pen!
“I’m sorry,” said Fiona. “I’d never hurt you.”
“Good,” said Cynthia. “The cleansing obviously worked.”
“Does that mean I can go home?” Fiona put her hand to her mouth, regretting the words almost instantly. “I meant my home in Golden, not Wren’s house on Earth. That place isn’t my home, it’s just an assignment.”
“That’s another thing we need to talk about.”
“Has Juniper been talking to you? She lies. Juniper lies.” Fiona laughed. “Sorry. Juniper doesn’t lie. Only demons lie. Not that I’m a demon. No. I don’t lie.” Fiona mimed zipping her mouth shut. She was rambling, and it wasn’t making her look good.
“Do you miss your assignment on Earth?” Cynthia asked.
“Yes,” Fiona admitted. “I presume that’s a problem?”
Why am I being so confrontational?
“It is,” said Cynthia. “But you know that.”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have been sent to mentor someone who is my great-granddaughter in the first place. What did they think would happen when I met my family?”
“Why would they send you to a family member?”
Fiona knew that answering this question was important. She tried to think, and the answer was so obvious she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before.
“It was a test,” said Fiona. “It was a test to see if I could hack it as an angel.”
Cynthia nodded. “Go on.”
“It was a test I failed miserably, if I’m not mistaken. I grew to love being down on Earth so much I almost turned into a demon.”
Juniper must have known it was a test. So did Brock. So why did they never tell her? They could’ve at least given her a heads up. Then again maybe they did. Juniper did come down to Earth once and berate her for getting too intimate with her charge. Was that her way of warning her she was close to failing?
“I’ve really messed things up,” said Fiona. She leaned back into her chair, wretched. “I’m never going back down there, am I?”
“I don’t know,” said Cynthia. “It’s not up to me.”
“I miss them so much. Wren and Dot and Keegan and all the family members I didn’t even meet. I feel... I feel like I did the first time I died. It’s unbearable.” She wiped at her eyes, miserable. “I think I’d rather be a demon than feel like this.”
A cuckoo clock on the wall activated, making Fiona jump.
“Time’s up,” Cynthia declared. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I tell you I’m fine,” Fiona insisted. “The demonic energies are gone.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Cynthia looked down at her notes, effectively dismissing Fiona. The sad angel sighed and left the office. Outside there was a waiting room full of dejected looking angels of all races, even a few demons. The window looked out onto an ocean under a parade of burnt orange clouds.
I’m going to be coming here for eternity.
One of the demons looked up at her. His skin was blotchy and red and he had three horns instead of the usual two. He looked familiar.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” he complained. He had a Southern British accent.
“Don’t talk to me,” said Fiona haughtily. “I don’t like demons.”
“You’re a demon,” he said. “I can still see your horns.”
Fiona put her hands on her head but felt nothing. The demon laughed.
“Very funny,” Fiona snapped. “I was a demon, but now I’m better.”
“Was it easy to turn back?” he asked, serious now.
“Not really. Why? Did you used to be an angel?”
“You don’t recognize me? Fiona, it’s me.”
She studied the demon,
looking past his repulsive features, the horns and the terrifying red skin. It was Dan Flowers, a soldier she’d known during her stint in London during World War Two.
Fiona blushed. “Dan...”
“You’re looking really good,” said Dan. His demon smile was a little scary, though Fiona recognized it for what it once was. “Prettier than ever.”
This was the man she’d betrayed her husband with, the soldier she’d had an affair with. This was the man she’d fallen for with all her heart.
She smiled. “Hi Dan.”
Chapter 5
The door handle was icy cold under her fingertips.
“Do we have the heating on?” Wren demanded. “It’s still cold in here!”
“It went on an hour ago,” said Reo. He was behind the counter. “It’s just cold outside. It’s perfectly warm in here.”
Wren nodded. She didn’t want her first customers to get so cold they stuck to their chairs.
“All I have to do is open the door,” she muttered.
The people were waiting to come in. Aunt Jenny. Uncle Camden. Reba. Half a dozen hipsters. Some other people she recognized but couldn’t put a name to. Even Chelsea was here. She’d expected the mayor to turn up but he was nowhere to be seen. That was probably a good idea. He didn’t like her mother because she threw chocolate pudding over him a few years ago when he tried to sell some land in the village to a developer.
One...
Two...
Three...
She opened the door. Ten minutes later Wren was busy serving coffees, smiling and talking and having the time of her life. This was what she was meant to do and she loved every single second of it.
“What do you call this?” someone demanded.
Wren kept her smile etched on her face as she faced her first dissatisfied customer. She’d only been open three hours. She was surprised it had taken this long.