Читать книгу Lakeside Family - Lisa Jordan - Страница 11

Chapter Three

After Nick left, Josie managed to fall asleep for about three hours before her alarm should have gone off. Except she had forgotten to set her alarm.

Josie arrived at Cuppa Josie’s late and found the back door frozen shut again. She and Hannah traipsed around to the front door.

The wind whipped the beige-and-blue-striped canopy over the smoky glass door with the steaming cup etched in white.

Josie balanced a box of tulips in order to jiggle the key in the ancient front door lock, making a mental note to salt the sidewalk.

Hannah’s narrow shoulders hunched against the blustery weather. “Hurry up, Mom. It’s so cold.”

“Really? And here I was taking my time so I could work on my tan.” Josie closed her eyes, flung out her free arm and raised her face to the sky.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” The biting air rouged Hannah’s cheeks and the tip of her upturned nose, adding a blush of color to her skin.

“Hold these, please.” Josie handed the box of tulips to Hannah, tugged her daughter’s hat down over her forehead and then rewrapped the purple-and-white-striped scarf around her neck.

“Need a hand?”

She turned to see Nick shutting the door to a shiny black Ford Ranger and stepping onto the sidewalk.

What was he doing here? They weren’t supposed to meet until later. She hadn’t talked to Hannah yet.

She gave him a tight smile and moved Hannah in front of her. “Thanks, but I got it.”

Come on, Lord, cut a girl a break here.

The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. Was he still there? Watching them? She snuck a peek over her shoulder.

Blowing into cupped hands, he stood about four feet behind them, eyes focused on them.

Did he have to watch her every move?

The key turned. Josie’s exhaled breath puffed against the glass as she opened the door.

Josie guided Hannah inside and pushed the door closed, but Nick shot forward and grabbed the handle. “Is it too early to come in?”

Josie darted a look between Hannah and him. Hannah gave her a curious look.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I can wait in my truck.” He thrust a thumb over his shoulder toward the street. He took a step back.

She paused. “No, don’t do that. Come in. I’ll have the coffee going in a few minutes.” She flicked on the interior light and flipped the CLOSED sign to OPEN.

She handed him the Shelby Lake Gazette and gestured toward the high-backed stools hugging the counter. “Grab a chair. Coffee will be ready shortly.”

With no time for introductions, she and Hannah wove their way around the square tables, shed their coats in her office and then washed their hands. Hannah traded her winter hat for a pink checked newsboy cap and tugged it sideways on her head. She pulled her iPod and a book from her backpack. Grabbing a banana out of the hanging basket near the sink, she perched on a stool next to the stainless-steel counter where Josie rolled out her piecrusts.

Within minutes of starting the coffee, the mingling scents of the different blends breathed life into Josie and flowed through her as necessarily as her own blood. Even though she couldn’t drink coffee, she craved the smell.

The front door jangled.

Oh, no. Not yet. She wasn’t ready for customers—the coffee hadn’t finished brewing. The pastry case wore empty shelves. The candles hadn’t been lit. The fireplace lay cold.

Why, oh, why hadn’t she set her cell phone to go off, too?

Agnes pushed through the swinging kitchen door. “Sugar Pie, so sorry I’m late. I had no electricity and had to go to Mama’s to dry my hair.” She hung up her coat and fluffed snowflakes off her curls. “Back door stuck again? I nearly slid on my tush coming around to the front.”

Josie pointed to Agnes’s feet. “Wear something a little more sensible than those stiletto boots.”

Agnes struck a model pose. “But they make my legs look long and lean. Never know when Mr. Right is going to come along.”

“Didn’t you get your fill of marriage after your ex left you for that perky pop star wannabe?” Josie twisted her hair and clipped it in a messy updo, pulling down a few loose curls to frame her face.

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?”

“Try being patient. Would you like me to go buy you another paper?” She pointed to the yellow paper box outside her shop.

“Harrumph. Now, that would be a waste of money, wouldn’t it?” He hobbled over to one of the armchairs near the fireplace and eased his body onto the cushion. Dropping his hat on the side table, he laid his cane on the floor and glared at Nick.

Agnes opened the small fridge under the espresso machine for the milk. “Why do you put up with that codger’s attitude?”

“He’s lonely and all bark but no bite. If griping at me makes him happy, I can turn the other cheek. Today’s a rough day for him.” Josie warmed a banana nut muffin and slipped a blueberry one into a small paper bag. She carried both to Emmett, who sat tapping his pen against the arm of the chair.

“Here’s your muffin. And a little something for later.” She handed him the white bag.

He eyed the bag. “What is it?”

“A blueberry muffin.”

His shoulders slumped. “Elsie’s favorite.”

She crouched beside him and patted his hand. “Rough day, huh?”

“Forty-eight years.” He traced the plain gold band embedded in his finger while gazing into the fire. “She was my everything. I miss her.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling his pain. “I know.”

He pressed his lips against her knuckles. “Thanks for the extra muffin.”

“Anything for you, Emmett.” Josie patted his cheek.

The phone rang, but Agnes snagged it. She covered the phone with her hand. “Josie, Billy Lynn’s on the phone asking about his doughnut order?”

Josie left Emmett and hurried to the counter. “Doughnut order?”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth when she spotted the pink sticky note reminding her about the six dozen doughnuts requested by the fire department. That was the baking thing she was forgetting. She sighed and resisted the urge to bang her head against the pastry case. If she hadn’t overslept, the doughnuts would be ready and waiting by now.

She reached for the phone. “Hey, Billy. This is Josie. I’m running behind today. When’s the latest I can get them to you?”

“Would noon be pushing it?”

Eyeing the clock, she did a mental calculation. “No, I can handle that. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Bring me a cup of that Almond Toffee Crunch coffee and I’ll forgive you, Dollface.”

“I’ll bring you a whole pot.”

“Josie!” The alarm in Agnes’s voice sent ice through Josie’s veins.

Hannah!

“Billy, I gotta go.” She sprinted through the swinging kitchen door. The kitchen was empty. “Agnes? Hannah? Where are you?”

“The storeroom. Hurry your fanny in here.”

Josie hurried past her office to the storeroom near the back door. Her nose wrinkled against a musty, sulfur smell. Gross.

She rounded the corner to find Agnes and Hannah staring at the ceiling. She followed their gazes. Her stomach plummeted to her toes. She groaned and slumped against the doorjamb. “Oh, no! Oh, please no. Not now. Not this.” Josie squeezed her eyes shut, counted to ten in Italian—uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque, sei, sette, otto, nove, dieci—and then opened her eyes, praying what she saw had been a mistake. Or a trick of the eyes.

No such luck.

A section of the ceiling in the storeroom hung down like an escape hatch. Soaked drywall, exposed beams and floor joists and dripping insulation drooped from the damaged area. Water droplets beaded along old iron plumbing pipes. Blackened puckers stretched along the seams in the upstairs apartment’s wooden floor.

The drain in the floor gurgled as dripping water spiraled into the circular grate. Most of her baking supplies had been stored in airtight plastic containers, so at least they were spared. But looking at the gaping ceiling again, she could almost see the money flowing out of her bank account. Okay, God, a cork would be nice. So much for paying this month’s mortgage on time.

* * *

Nick grabbed his cell phone and checked the time. He hadn’t seen Josie in a while. Had she forgotten they planned to talk at 8:30, which was ten minutes ago? Maybe she was ticked because he had shown up so early, but hey, a guy can count the ceiling tiles in his hotel room only so long. Nothing good on the tube this early in the morning, anyway, so he headed in to get a cup of coffee. Besides, he had an idea to discuss with her about Hannah.

Seeing Hannah with her nearly caused his legs to give out. The child looked more like she was six or seven than close to ten. Josie didn’t seem thrilled to see him, but what was he expecting? A hero’s welcome? A loving hug? Not going to happen. Especially since she thought he had bailed all those years ago.

“Finished with that plate, Sugar Pie?”

Nick looked up from scanning the Knicks score to find the same redhead who nearly slipped on the icy walk standing next to him. He smiled. “Yes, thanks.”

She grabbed the plate and sashayed back to the kitchen. No other way to describe her walk.

Some old guy kept giving him the evil eye. He had been minding his own business, reading the paper. Giving a mental shrug, he returned to the sports section to finish reading the highlights of last night’s game. Or at least pretend to.

About half an hour ago, Hannah came out of the kitchen and settled at a corner table with her nose in a book. She didn’t take her eyes off the page, but Nick couldn’t keep his eyes off his daughter. The way she bit her lip reminded him of Josie. If Hannah had hair, would she twirl a curl around her finger the way her mother did?

Maybe he could go over and talk to her.

That would send Josie through the roof. Besides, he didn’t want to risk upsetting the child. He had to do something, though. Sitting here was driving him nuts. He folded the newspaper, set it on the counter and moved off the stool to head for the kitchen. If she didn’t come to him, he’d go to her.

The old man who had been giving him the evil eye appeared at his side. “Mind if someone else takes a gander at the paper?”

“Have at it.” Nick pushed it toward him.

The man shuffled through the pages until he found what he had been looking for. “Hey, you did the crossword! In pen. I don’t believe it.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I do the crossword. Every morning at 7:15, I get a coffee, a banana nut muffin and then do the crossword until it’s time to visit my son.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll head outside and buy you a new paper.” Nick grabbed his coat.

“Don’t bother. No time now. The morning’s been disrupted enough.” The man shoved the paper back onto the counter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Josie come from the kitchen. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I am sorry. I promise not to touch the crossword again. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He strode to the counter to catch her before she pulled another disappearing act. She wasn’t hiding because of him, was she?

She spun away from the register and pushed open the swinging door, but Nick caught her elbow. She whirled around to face him.

“Nick.”

“We were supposed to talk. Remember?”

She shot a glance at the clock and then sighed. “Oh, that’s right. I’m so sorry. It’s been a crazy morning. Listen, I’m not trying to blow you off or anything, but I have a major water leak to deal with, a doughnut order to rush and then I have to take Hannah to the doctor at two. Can we talk later?”

“Where’s her doctor?”

“A couple of blocks from here. Dr. Kym.”

“I have an appointment at 11:30, but I could meet you at the doctor afterward.”

“That’s not necessary.” She cast a glance toward Hannah and then edged toward the still-open kitchen door.

Nick gave her a pointed look. “She’s my daughter, too. Remember? I need to know what’s going on with her.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. “I haven’t had time to tell Hannah about you. You can’t just show up as some random guy. And I’m not going to introduce you in the doctor’s office. You’re bound to be a shock to her.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Josie made sense. He remembered last night’s stunned feeling when he learned he had a daughter. How would the kid feel once she learned dear old dad finally showed up? “All right, then. How about if the three of us go to dinner?”

“Can’t.” Josie picked up a rag and wiped crumbs off the counter.

Nick crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “You want me to get tested, but you don’t want me to be a part of her life?”

With her back to him, she rinsed the dishcloth in the sink. “No, it’s not that at all. My family is coming to dinner tonight. Hannah can’t be around a lot of people right now with her immune system being so weak. I risked her health by bringing her into the shop this morning, but I had no choice.”

“What happened?”

She turned around. “I overslept. My grandfather had an appointment today and won’t be home until dinner. My stepsister is coming to pick up Hannah. Because of the water leak, I don’t want her in the kitchen.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “It’s been one disaster after another.”

“Sounds like you need a vacation.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen.” Her eyes filled with a sadness that tugged at his heart.

He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, but touching her was the last thing she wanted. Plus, he didn’t believe in giving false hope or meaningless platitudes because he didn’t know if everything was going to work out. From his past experience he knew how life had a way of dishing out trash no one deserved.