by Carrie Elks
Nope, that definitely wasn’t Jeff.
She followed his gaze, grimacing at how long overdue her pedicure was. When she looked back up, the man was still staring at her.
Their eyes met with a clash.
She opened her mouth to ask him who he was, then snapped it closed again. Because in her heart she knew. This dark-haired, smoothly dressed man with a suit that seemed to love every inch of him was the new owner of the beach café.
“Uh, hi. Can I help you?” Nate said to the blonde who was giving him the strangest of stares. “We’re not really open yet, so I can’t offer you a coffee.”
She shook her head, her brow still pulled down into a frown. He could see two tiny lines furrowed deep into the skin between her eyes. Christ, she was pretty, with those big blue eyes and golden hair.
“Are you okay?” he asked when she hadn’t replied.
“Um, yeah.” She let out a mouthful of air. “I work here.” He watched as she bit her lip then released it again. “My name’s Ally.”
“You’re Ally Sutton? The manager?” Damn. This wasn’t exactly how he’d intended to introduce himself. “I’m Nate Crawford. I just bought this place.” He reached his hand out to her. She gave him the hastiest of shakes, as though she was afraid to touch him.
She stared down at her palm for a moment, as if he’d burned it, before bringing her gaze up to his. “I don’t suppose you know where my shoes are, do you?”
“Your shoes?” His mouth turned suddenly dry.
“I left them on the deck,” she told him, “but they’re gone.”
“Those were yours?” he asked, his eyes widening. “I thought they were trash. I threw them in the can out front.” He pulled at the collar of his shirt. Was it getting hot in here? “I’m sorry, they looked really old and beat up. I didn’t think…”
“They’re worn in. Not beat up,” she almost snapped. Her frown deepened, if that was even possible. “It takes weeks to get them to feel right.” She turned on her heel – her bare heel – and walked back to the doors, stepping out onto the deck where the trashcan stood. Nate followed her, stopping behind as she peered in, a frown on her lips, staring at her shoes resting on a layer of wrappers and peelings.
Nate stared at the shoes over her shoulder. They really were beaten up. She couldn’t blame him for thinking they were abandoned.
Could she?
“I can’t believe you threw them away.” Okay, she could totally blame him. She shook her head again, and looked straight at him, and looked straight at him, their gazes colliding once again. “I guess I’ll have to find something to cover my feet with and walk home.”
“I can give you a ride,” he offered, feeling terrible. This wasn’t exactly how he’d planned meeting his first staff member. And the manager at that. “My car’s in the lot over there.” He pointed at his dark blue Lexus, keeping his voice as conciliatory as he could.
Damn, this was a bad start. He’d arrived early so he could take a good look around without any of the staff following him or trying to explain why the oil was so dirty or the coffee grounds were reused five times. Once done with his perusal of the café, he’d planned to let himself out and sit on the deck, waiting for the manager and the cook to arrive, then introduce himself formally before they all went in.
But instead he’d been caught in the act. And even worse he’d thrown the poor woman’s shoes away. Christ, he was an idiot. “I can reimburse you for the shoes,” he said, grabbing his wallet from the back pocket of his pants. “How much were they?”
“I don’t want your money. I can buy my own shoes.” Her tone was resolute. She stared back at him, unblinking. He couldn’t help but be impressed by the way she stood her ground.
“Can we start this all again in a little while? After you’ve gone home and gotten some shoes?” He pointedly looked at her feet again. “Once the rest of the staff are here we’ll have a meeting.”
“But we need to open this place up. Customers will be arriving soon. They’ll want the coffee to be hot and ready for them. We’ll lose business if they see it’s closed up.” She glanced at her watch. “Damn, I’m already late.”
“It’s okay, I didn’t intend for us to open today anyway. We’ll probably need to close for a week or two while the renovations happen and we train some more staff. I’ll drop you at home and you can take your time getting ready. There’s no need to rush.”
She looked down again, as though she’d only just remembered she was wearing spandex. A crop top and tight shorts that clung to her, accentuating every curve. He looked away, determined not to be that guy. Even if she was crazily attractive, with her glowing, tan skin, her pink cheeks, and her sun-kissed blonde hair twisted up into a knot.
“You’re closing it? For a week! Or two!” She blinked as though the sun had hit her eyes. “But what about our customers? We never close.”
He looked at her for a moment – only from the face up. He figured that was safe enough. “Ally, I really appreciate your commitment to customer service,” he began, trying to find the right words to encourage her out of there. He needed to be able to look below eye height at some point in time that day. “But the customers will understand. They might even be excited. It’s not every day Déjà Brew moves into town.”
A flash of recognition passed her eyes. “That’s who bought this place? Déjà Brew?”
“You’ve heard of them?”
“Who hasn’t?” Ally asked. “They’re like the McDonalds of coffee.” Her eyes widened as soon as she’d said it. “Oh god, that’s your company, isn’t it? You own Déjà Brew? I’m sorry.” She lifted her hand to cover her mouth, and her face – already pink from her running – deepened in color. “But seriously, you’re planning on changing this place?” She shook her head a little, as though trying to jolt her thoughts down. “Are you renaming it too, or will it still be the Beach Café?”
“All our outlets are called Déjà Brew. Our customers like that.” He shrugged. “And you’re right, we do try to offer our customers the same experience, too. It doesn’t matter if they’re in Seattle, Sacramento, or Angel Sands. They know their latte is going to taste good.” He smiled. “It’s a formula but it works.”
“It won’t work in Angel Sands,” Ally told him. Was that a smug tone he could hear in her voice?
“Of course it will. It works everywhere.”
“Did you look around town the last time you were here?” Ally asked, sounding impassioned. “Did you spot any chain stores among all the boutiques and bakeries?”
“No,” Nate conceded, his voice low.
“And there’s a good reason for that. The locals and the tourists don’t like them. They prefer one-of-a-kind places, like this café and the surf shop next door. They love looking for books in a little independent shop that’s run by the same woman who’s owned it for the past forty years.”
“Ally,” Nate said, his voice even, “I promise you I know what I’m doing. Your customers are going to love the new outlet, and so will all the new customers we attract. But I need your help with this. You know the town and you know this place.” He gestured at the café with his hand. “You’re the most important member of the team.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket and walked toward the door. “Let me take you home and we can start again later.”
“I can walk.” She sounded defeated. “It’s not that far.”
“In bare feet?”
She wiggled her toes. “Yeah.”
He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. He had enough experience to know when he was defeated.
“If you’re sure…”
“Of course I am. What’s the worst that can happen?”
3
Well at least now she knew what the worst was, and she was still trying to clean it off her feet under the hot spray of her showerhead. Who knew gum could stick that much? After a few attempts at trying to yank the big wad of sticky goo from her bare sole, she’d resorted to jabbing at it with the end of her
razor. It finally fell off in a huge lump in the shower tub. She tried not to heave as she lifted it up with the tips of her fingers and threw it in the bathroom trashcan.
On the bright side it wasn’t glass. Or something a dog had squeezed out. And anyway, it was worth it to have walked out of the café with her head held high.
Or as high as it could be when you’re walking in bare feet and you have no idea if you’ll have a job in a couple of weeks time.
She climbed out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body and using a second one to dry the spray off her long hair. She twisted it into a turban and walked down the hallway to her bedroom, yanking her closet door open to try and decide what to wear.
In front of her hung the same old clothes. Shorts and denim skirts, t-shirts and tanks. A couple of sweaters that were only dragged out on the rare occasion the temperature dipped. She’d once had a raincoat that had stayed on its hanger for two years before she’d donated it to Goodwill, tags still attached.
In the end she picked a pair of navy shorts and a blue striped top that knotted at the waist. And when she’d pulled them on and managed to coax her damp hair into a messy topknot, she sat down on the bed and stared at herself in the mirror her mom had fixed to the wall when they’d first moved into this place twenty years ago. She could remember them looking around it, and her mom being so proud to be able to afford their own place with her wage from Newtons’ Pharmaceuticals. And at the time all Ally could think of was the fact it was a condo, and there was no swimming pool.
Looking back, she regretted that day so much. Hated that she’d failed to understand how hard her mom must have worked to keep a roof over their heads. And she’d never had a chance to tell her that. Instead, she’d lost her mom when she was still a hormone-ridden, sullen teenager, too busy rolling her eyes to see her mom for who she really was. Her passing was sudden and shocking, and Ally thought about her every day.
For years after her mom’s death, while she’d lived with her dad in his bungalow over on the other side of town, they’d rented the condo out. Her mom’s insurance had paid some of the mortgage off, but they’d relied on the rental income to cover the rest. When Ally had left school and started working at the café, she’d decided to move back in to the condo. Her wages weren’t amazing, but they were enough to cover what was left of the loan and the additional bills she had to pay every month.
Without them she wouldn’t be able to live here anymore. She pulled her legs up close to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees, trying to comfort herself. Having to move out of this place would cut her like a knife. It was her one connection left to her mom. She could sit in the kitchen and remember how it used to feel as she finished her assignments at the square table when her mom rushed in from work and would immediately throw some food in the stove. Then there were the Christmases – the ones when it was her mom’s year to have Ally for the big day itself and they’d stay up late on Christmas Eve watching movie after movie. By that point Ally knew the truth about Santa, but her mom never batted an eyelid. She’d tell Ally to go and put her stocking out at the foot of her bed, and when Ally walked into her bedroom she’d see a new pair of pajamas waiting for her on her bed, a little note from Santa attached.
She still bought herself a new pair of pajamas every year, putting them out on Christmas Eve in memory of her mom. Nobody else knew about that, not even Brooke or Ember. It was a secret, their secret, and she kept it between herself and her mom.
If she was really honest, the thought of having to move out of this condo was one of the things that was motivating her to get dressed and walk back to the Beach Café. She needed a job, and right now that was her best option.
The other thing? It was the café itself. Like her home, it had been such a huge part of her life ever since she was a child. And now that her dad had left, it was her only connection left to the life she used to live. She’d lost her mother, and her dad showed no signs of coming back to town. The Beach Café felt like the only thing she had left.
Except it wasn’t hers, was it? It now belonged to Déjà Brew and its handsome owner. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering how dismissive he’d been of the café and it’s history. He hadn’t wanted to hear her explanations, even though she’d worked there for the past ten years. He’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t care about the culture in Angel Sands, or what the locals preferred.
In fact, Mr. Déjà Brew wasn’t interested in her opinion at all. And wasn’t that just a kick in the teeth?
Nate was on a phone call to the building company who were booked to do the refurbishments when the door to the café opened. He looked up to see an old man walking in, wearing a pair of baggy surf shorts and what looked like it used to be a white t-shirt before it became grey thanks to over-washing.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed right now,” Nate told him.
“So I see. You the new owner?” The old man had his arms folded across his chest the same way Riley had the previous day. Nate tried not to smile at the comparison.
“That’s right. Nate Crawford.” He held out his hand. The man looked at it for a moment. Then he reached out his own hand and gave Nate’s a brief shake.
“I’m Lorne Daniels. I own the surf shop next door.” Though his tone was neutral, his eyes were narrowed.
Ah, a fellow business owner. Nate had learned to tread carefully there. You couldn’t tell if they were the type to embrace change or be fearful of it. Plus there was the Déjà Brew brand – that always polarized opinion.
“It’s good to meet you, sir. I hope we don’t cause you any problems by being closed for the next couple of weeks. I know a lot of business around here rely on footfall, but I can guarantee that once we’re open I have plans to increase our traffic by fifty percent. That should hopefully spill out to the rest of the shops, too.”
“I don’t care about the footfall. I have enough turnover to keep things going. I want to know your intentions toward Ally Sutton.”
“I’m sorry?” Nate’s brows knitted together. “I don’t have any intentions toward her. I mean she’s a beautiful woman and everything, but she’s really not my type.” Had Lorne spotted him taking a surreptitious look at Ally when she’d been standing in front of him with all her spandex-clad glory?
“I don’t mean those sort of intentions,” Lorne replied. Though his face remained expressionless, Nate could have sworn there was a twinkle in the old man’s eyes. “I mean are you going to keep her employed here? That girl’s like a daughter to me. I want to make sure she’s taken care of. In fact, there are a lot of people in Angel Sands who feel the same.”
“She’ll stay working at the new coffee shop. I promised her father.”
“Huh. And I suppose you’ll be leaving town as soon as the café is up and running then?”
“No, sir,” Nate said. “I plan to stay around while my daughter finishes high school. After that I’ll be heading back to Seattle.”
“You and the wife?”
“It’s just me and Riley.”
Lorne gave another ‘huh’. It really was halfway between a hum and a choke. Nate had to look twice to see he was okay. “That’s what they all say,” the old man muttered.
Nate frowned. “That it’s just them and Riley?”
“No. That they’re only in town for a little while. But what they don’t know,” Lorne said, leaning closer, as though he had the best secret to tell. “And what you don’t know either, Mr. Crawford, is that once this place has its hooks in you, you’ll never want to leave.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, sir. I suppose you’ve heard the story of the angel?”
Um, no he hadn’t. Nate didn’t particularly want to hear it now either. He wanted to go back into the shop and get things ready for the staff meeting he was planning to have, and later the renovation company would arrive, ready to begin work on the place.
“That’s how this town came to be built, you know,” Lorne said, even t
hough Nate hadn’t had a chance to reply. “A lost man was looking for somewhere to call home. His name was Captain Paxton and he was sailing around these shores looking for a place to anchor up. Then he looked into the sky and saw an angel hovering ahead, her arm stretched out and pointing to this very bay. And though his entire crew thought it was too dangerous, too rocky and too shallow, he steered his ship inward and came to rest just where Paxton’s Pier is today.” Lorne nodded his head. “And even if you can’t see her, the angel’s been showing lost people their way home ever since.”
That was all very well, but this wasn’t Nate’s home. It was just a place he hoped Riley would be able to see out school for the next year and a half. Without flunking out, without getting kicked out, and preferably without being thrown into jail.
“That’s a good story.”
Lorne shook his head. “It’s a stupid story. Everybody knows Captain Paxton was a drunk.”
“He was?” This conversation was more than confusing. Nate wanted it to end, and soon.
“Yes, but that’s a story for another day. Okay, then. As long as we’re clear on everything.” Lorne nodded, more to himself than Nate. “You understand?”
“Sure,” Nate lied. “Completely.”
“Well have a good day. And remember to treat Ally right.” With that, Lorne turned on his heel and left, walking out a lot faster than he’d walked in.
Nate took a deep breath and shook his head, because, seriously?
He wasn’t sure what just happened.
A crowd had gathered on the boardwalk by the time Ally made it back to the Beach Café, a much bigger one than she’d seen waiting for a coffee in a long time. She smiled at Deenie Russell, long-time owner of Books on the Beach, and Deenie waved back.