Lisa Jordan - Lakeside Family

Agnes made a face. “What’s up with Mr. Yummy at the counter out there? Picking up strays again?”

Josie glanced at Hannah and gave Agnes a slight shake of her head.

Agnes’s eyebrows notched into a V and then her eyes widened as her mouth puckered into an O.

Josie nodded, appreciating her friend’s understanding. “At least we baked last night. Mind filling the pastry case while I get the store ready?”

“Not at all.” Agnes changed her boots into more sensible shoes, then washed and dried her hands. She dropped a kiss on Hannah’s temple, leaving behind a lipstick imprint. “How are you, darlin’?”

Hannah smiled and fingered one of Agnes’s large gold hoops. “Hey, Aggie. Love your earrings. Someday I’ll be allowed to get my ears pierced.”

Josie pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and sagged against the counter. “Oh, the perils of being a kid.”

Hannah shot her a look that said she was not amused. Josie shrugged and bit the inside of her lip.

“Sugar Pie, you have the rest of your life to play grown-up. Don’t you be rushing anything now. You hear me?” Agnes grabbed two blue aprons and tossed one to Josie. “And don’t be giving your mama a big to-do about it. She’s doing right by making you wait.”

“Seriously, I just don’t see what the big deal is about getting my ears pierced.”

Josie tied the apron around her waist and smoothed the front. “The big deal is we agreed you could get them done when you turn ten. Keep griping about it and I’ll make you wait until you’re sixteen.”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” Josie raised an eyebrow at her daughter.

“So not fair. Especially for a sick kid.” Hannah returned to her book.

Josie tugged on one of the earbuds to snag her daughter’s attention. “Don’t play that card with me, kiddo. I mean it.”

“Sorry.” Hannah leaned against Josie.

Josie swallowed the apple-size lump in her throat. Her eyes connected with Agnes’s, which seemed overly bright.

Less than ten minutes later, Josie carried full pots of today’s special blends—Almond Toffee Crunch and Hazelnut Cream—and placed them on the coffee bar to the left of the register. She turned to head back into the kitchen for the regular and decaf, but paused and cocked her head.

What was that scraping sound?

She threaded her way around the tables to the front window. Outside the shop, Nick had cleared the ice. And now he tossed handfuls of ice melter on the sidewalk.

With trying to get the shop ready, she had forgotten about the sidewalks. Something deep shimmied to the surface, filling her with warmth at his thoughtfulness.

As a teenager, he had always been willing to lend a hand.

He looked up and lifted his hand in greeting.

He still had a really great smile. Not that she paid attention to him specifically or anything. Working with the public, a girl noticed these things.

She turned away, and nearly tripped over a chair. A quick peek over her shoulder showed he had indeed seen her klutzy move. His grin sent heat across her cheeks.

Way to go, Josie.

A few minutes later, the door opened. Nick returned the bucket of ice melter and shovel behind the front door where he had found them.

Josie plated a chocolate chip muffin and warmed it in the microwave. She grabbed a stout-bellied glass mug off the shelf behind the register and then carried them to the front counter where Nick had shrugged out of his bomber jacket. Water droplets dampened his hair. The tips of his ears were reddened from the cold. Dressed in a light blue T-shirt, an unbuttoned blue-and-white-striped dress shirt, loose fitting jeans and a pair of beat-up Converses on his feet, he looked more like a college student than a professor.

She set the mug on the counter and pointed to the coffee bar, hating the way her fingers trembled. She clenched them into fists, hoping he didn’t notice. “Help yourself to coffee. Today’s specials are Almond Toffee Crunch and Hazelnut Cream.”

“Thanks.” He smiled and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

Josie shook her head. “On the house. You didn’t need to clean my walk.”

He turned sideways, resting one elbow on the back of the chair and another on the spread newspaper. “Your friend almost slipped. And you were busy.”

“I would’ve gotten to it.” She winced at the defensive tone in her voice.

He held up a hand. “Hey, that wasn’t a criticism.”

“Sorry. Thanks.” She shut her mouth before finishing off a course of foot-in-mouth. She moved to the fireplace and flipped the switch. Flames came to life and tangoed across the fake logs. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend to hear crackles and smell burning pine.

Nick slid off the stool and wrapped long fingers around the mug. “Wasn’t a problem. Really.”

For him, maybe. He wasn’t the irresponsible one who couldn’t even get out of bed on time.

“Do you have time for coffee? To talk?”

She glanced at the clock. “Not now. Besides, I don’t drink coffee.”

He headed to the coffee bar and filled his mug. “What kind of barista owns a coffeehouse, but doesn’t drink coffee?”

She dashed behind the counter and grabbed the candle lighter. “The kind who’s allergic to caffeine.”

“Then why a coffeehouse?”

“Coffee and food bring people together.” She lit the votive candles nestled in a bed of coffee beans on each table.

He nodded toward the word wall next to the fireplace. “What’s this? Saw it when I came in.”

She shrugged. Would he think she was silly? Did she care? “A community word wall. Each month I put up miscellaneous words and challenge customers to create something unique. At the end of the month, they’re voted on and the winner receives a free drink.”

“Great way to inspire people to write.”

Spoken like a true English professor.

Nick moved past her to get his coffee.

She stuck the candle lighter in her front pocket and grabbed the box of tulips still on the edge of the counter. She replaced the red-and-pink Valentine arrangements on the window counter and near the cash register with the potted tulips.

The front door jangled. Two women and a man in business attire entered, brushing snowflakes off the shoulders of their overcoats. Within minutes, a steady stream of customers filed through the café, keeping her busy behind the counter. The whirring of the espresso machine competed with the rustling of the morning newspapers, cell phone ring tones and chatter.

Emmett Browne, one of her loyal customers and true genius with a camera, banged on the counter with his hand-carved cane. “Josie, where’s the paper? I come in here every morning, sit in the same spot to do the morning crossword, and today of all days, you open late and the paper is missing. What is this world coming to?” His salt-and-pepper eyebrows knitted together. His sausage fingers gripped the curve of his cane. Tufts of white hair sprouted beneath his tweed fedora.

Josie smiled and turned to reach for a glass mug. She set it on the counter in front of him. “Good morning to you, too, Emmett. The usual?”

“Don’t I always have the usual? Did you forget already? What’s so hard about a black coffee and a banana nut muffin? And don’t slip me any of that bran malarkey. I can tell the difference, you know.” He pulled out two dollar bills and a handful of change. He laid the bills on the counter and counted out sixty-eight cents and then tossed two quarters in the tip jar.

“Of course not. One of the other customers is reading the paper. As soon as he’s finished, you can do your crossword.”

He glowered at her. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? What kind of establishment gives out one paper?”