“Mighty fine breeze this morning.”
“Heard the temps are going to hit record highs next week.”
“My bones say some rain is heading this way.”
And so her day began. Soon Eleanor Griffin came in as she always did on Tuesday and Friday mornings, settling into the same table in the corner she always sat in—unless some unfortunate soul didn’t know it was Eleanor’s table. Then she would take the table beside it and read the paper with much sighing and rustling of the pages and occasional dagger-throwing glances at the unlucky patrons. As soon as they would leave, Eleanor would move to her table and order her breakfast. Beverly had considered placing a reserved sign on the table on Tuesdays and Fridays, but really everyone in the town knew Eleanor sat there. Though, when the bridge did finally open, she supposed a reserved sign was probably the practical solution.
Beverly headed over with a pot of coffee, a pitcher of fresh cream, and a coffee cup. “Morning, Miss Eleanor.” Everyone in town called her Miss Eleanor.
“Good morning, Beverly. I see you have some of those chocolate-filled scones,” she said, glancing at the chalkboard above the coffee bar. “I believe I’ll have one of those with my coffee.”
“Sure thing. Be back in a sec.” She returned with the scone, slightly heated just like Eleanor liked her pastries, and set it on the table.
Eleanor nodded and went back to her paper. Not quite dismissing Beverly, but almost. But everyone knew Eleanor liked her privacy. Kept to herself with her daily routine. Her twice weekly trips to Coastal Coffee. A trip to the market every Monday morning at ten. She walked her dog—an aging Cavalier King Charles named Winston—every morning at seven and afternoon at four. She never missed a Sunday at church and sat in the second row of pews in the seats the Whitmores had sat in for generations. Miss Eleanor had been born a Whitmore, then married Theodore Griffin. But most of the town still considered her a Whitmore, a family that had been on the island since the first settlers.
Beverly realized she was still standing beside the table when Eleanor looked up questioningly.
“Oh, sorry. Lost in thought for a moment.”
Eleanor bobbed her head. “I’m sure you have other customers to wait on.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Beverly didn’t know why the comment made her feel like a scolded schoolgirl.
A half hour later, Eleanor folded her paper. That was Beverly’s clue to give Eleanor her check. She hurried over with it and set it on the table.
“Beverly, I didn’t see your name on the list of donors to the fundraiser for the town park.” Eleanor cocked her head slightly to one side, pinning Beverly with a look that would not let go.
“I… um… I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. I will. Soon. I promise.” She’d have to come up with a donation quickly now.
“I expect to hear from you soon.” Eleanor bobbed her head slightly as if there was never a question that Beverly would do as she was told.
* * *
Maxine entered Coastal Coffee much later than she’d planned to. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was from the stress. She’d woken up with light streaming in the windows and missed the whole breakfast part of the B&B. She’d hurriedly gotten dressed and walked over to Beverly’s shop.
As soon as she entered, the relaxed beauty of the coastal decor greeted her. Faded shades of teal, mint, and coral melded perfectly with the wooden chairs and tables that were polished to a shine. Warm sunlight streamed in through the front windows and danced across the worn floorboards. The unmistakable aroma of freshly ground coffee mixed with the tantalizing smells of the fresh baked goods warming in the oven. The low murmur of the customers swirled around her.
Coastal Coffee was welcoming in the same way Magnolia Key was as a whole—they both opened their arms to locals and visitors alike. A tangible sense of warmth and community surrounded her. She stood for a moment, drinking in the sights and sounds until the door opened behind her and the gentle sound of the wind chimes outside drifted in along with an older couple. They looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite remember their names.
The woman smiled. “Ah, Maxine, I heard you were back in town. So good to see you.”
Was this gray-haired lady with the cane really Judy McNally? Last she’d seen Judy, she’d been a forty-something, fit blonde who ran the beach daily. “Judy, Harv, so great to see you, too,” she said, pleased that she’d recognized them.
“Been a long time,” Harv said as he took Judy’s elbow. “Bet Beverly is thrilled you could visit.”
She thought there was a bit of reproach in his voice. Or maybe it was her own guilt poking her for staying away for so long. He led Judy to a table against the far wall.
Maxine spied Beverly in the corner talking to Miss Eleanor, of all people. Great. If she’d just been a bit later, maybe she could have avoided Eleanor altogether. She pasted on what she hoped was a genuine-looking smile and headed over to the corner.
“Miss Eleanor. How great to see you.” Did that sound genuine?
Eleanor looked her over from top to bottom, sizing her up before she spoke. “Ah, Maxine. You’re back for a visit. How long has it been? A long time, I believe.” Eleanor’s brow creased in disapproval, like she couldn’t believe anyone would stay away from Magnolia that long.
“It’s been—” She caught herself right before admitting it had been ten years. “It’s been a while.”
“So, why are you back?” Eleanor eyed her suspiciously as if she didn’t belong here.
“Um… for a visit?” That wasn’t the whole truth, but enough for Eleanor to know.
