Farrah Rochon - Forever's Promise

She laughed, giving him a good-natured pat on the back before leaving the men to their meal.

When she’d settled on the concept for The Jazzy Bean she decided her coffeehouse would not contribute to the failing health of any patrons with known medical conditions. Harold was just one of several customers who suffered from high blood pressure. If he wanted to dine on oily, fatty, heart-attack-inducing food, he would have to go elsewhere.

Shayla came upon a table of teachers from the local high school. They routinely dropped in on Monday evenings for conversation and coffee.

“How’s it going, ladies? Is that car still giving you trouble, Denise?”

Denise Lewis, who graduated from Gauthier High with her brother, Braylon, waved off her concern. “My car is fine.” With a sly grin, she added, “Although I do feel a little tummy ache coming on. I think I need a trip to the emergency room.”

The table of women burst into laughter.

Shayla’s brow dipped in a curious frown as she eyed the boisterous crew. “Okay, what am I missing?”

“Oh, don’t mind her.” Bianca Charles, who’d served on the student council with her back when Shayla was in the tenth grade, motioned toward Denise. “She’s just trying to come up with a reason to see that fine new E.R. doctor over at Maplesville General.”

Denise flattened her palm against her chest. “I don’t need to fake being sick. I damn near have a heart attack whenever I see him.”

Shayla rolled her eyes. “Let me know if you ladies need anything else. More coffee, scones, CPR?”

They erupted in more laughter.

“I’ll take another cup of coffee,” Denise said, scooting off her stool and following Shayla to the counter.

“I’ll take one, too,” her best friend, Paxton Jones, called from the table she’d commandeered over in the corner.

“Still not talking to you,” Shayla said.

“Why aren’t you talking to Paxton?” Denise asked. “You two were joined at the hip in high school.”

“Because I took a job in Little Rock,” Paxton explained as she walked over to the counter and held out her coffee cup. “You’d think my dearest friend in the world would be happy for me.”

“Not gonna happen,” Shayla said, reluctantly refilling the mug with the medium roast she’d recently brewed.

Paxton took a sip before she said, “Someone here seems to forget that she left me first, and she went all the way to the West Coast. You didn’t see me getting all surly.”

“Big difference. I didn’t have a choice. I had a scholarship and then an internship that led to a job. This isn’t even a promotion for you. It’s a lateral move. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

Paxton came around the counter and pinched her cheek. “I still love you, Shayla. Despite the fact that you’re acting like a big, curly-haired baby.”

She knew she was being a baby. Petty and selfish, too. But she’d learned of her best friend’s impending move only a few hours ago. Shayla figured she deserved at least another day to wallow and complain before congratulating her.

“You still coming over tonight?” Shayla asked.

“Can I take a rain check?” Paxton motioned to the table, scattered with spreadsheets and forms and other reminders of the hectic corporate lifestyle Shayla had once lived.

She tried to suppress the surge of envy that gripped her. That fast-paced, cutthroat world was no longer a part of her existence. The Jazzy Bean, her nieces—they were her life now.

“It’s probably better we meet tomorrow,” Shayla said. “My neighbor is babysitting for me. I need to pick the girls up and get them ready for bed.”

“When does Leslie get back?”

“Tomorrow night. She decided to stay an extra day in Houston to spend time with her extended family.”

“Good. It gives you more time with the girls,” Paxton said.

“Except I’ve had to spend all my extra time here in the coffee shop,” Shayla pointed out. “And you know I can use all the extra bonding time I can get, especially with Cassidy.”

Paxton frowned and patted Shayla’s arm. “It’ll get better. Just give it time.”

“Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself,” Shayla said.

By the time Lucinda turned the Open sign to Closed, just after 6:00 p.m., Shayla was ready to dive headfirst into bed.

“Get out of here and get some rest,” Lucinda said. “I’ll close up.”

“If I had enough energy I would kiss you,” Shayla told her. She’d worked on the corporate side of the coffee business for so long she’d forgotten just how exhausting the day-to-day operations of a coffee shop could be.

The rest she so desperately craved would have to wait, because for the first time in nearly two decades, she was responsible for someone other than herself. After months of campaigning, she’d finally convinced her sister-in-law, Leslie, to leave her two nieces, eight-year-old Cassidy and three-year-old Kristi, in her care while Leslie attended her cousin’s wedding in Houston this past weekend.

Reconnecting with her family and getting to know her sister-in-law and nieces better was the chief impetus behind Shayla’s impulsive move back to Louisiana following her younger brother’s premature death. Over the past eight months, she had discovered that their frayed family fabric was not as easily mended as she’d hoped, especially when she’d played such a huge part in tearing said family fabric.

But things were slowly getting better. The fact that Leslie had entrusted Shayla with Kristi and Cassidy—even if it was just for four days—spoke volumes about how much their relationship had improved.

Shayla bade Lucinda good-night before leaving her to lock up. She headed left on Main Street’s newly refurbished brick-laid sidewalk—just one of the outcomes of the downtown area’s recent restoration projects. Her house, which she’d purchased in a package deal when she’d bought the building that housed The Jazzy Bean, was located in the residential neighborhood adjacent to Main Street.

On the short five-minute walk home, Shayla took in the sweet smell of the night jasmine that grew in the window boxes outside Lizzie’s Consignment Shop. The balmy summer night was so different from what she’d become accustomed to in the Pacific Northwest, but she embraced it.

It was strange—after living on the West Coast for nearly twenty years she’d anticipated bouts of homesickness after packing up her condo in Seattle, but they’d never materialized. Instead, Shayla had been overwhelmed by the sense of peace and belonging she’d experienced when she’d returned to Gauthier.

She’d lived in Seattle for much of her adult life, but this was home.

She walked past her house and went next door. Her neighbor Gayle Martin had offered to babysit her nieces so they wouldn’t be stuck in the back room at The Jazzy Bean after they got home from school today. Shayla had had every intention of meeting them at the bus stop and spending quality time with the girls, but her busy workday couldn’t be helped, not with both Erin, the college student she’d hired a couple of months ago, and her manager, Desiree, calling in sick.

She went around to the back door of Gayle’s wood-framed creole cottage, which was almost an exact replica of hers. The only difference was the color. Shayla had painted her house a deep brick-red and added stark-white shutters. It stood out from the white and pastel homes in the neighborhood.

She rapped twice on the door before going inside. “Knock, knock,” she called. “Anybody home?”

Gayle came into the kitchen, Shayla’s nieces trailing behind.

“Hey, Aunt Shayla,” Kristi greeted with an excited wave. Her hands were stained myriad colors.