“First thing tomorrow, we’ll get those tarps,” she decided. “See if we can get someone to put them up on the roof. Then clean everything from top to bottom. If the power’s still out, we’ll get the generator working.”
Maxine came to stand beside her at the window. “One step at a time.”
She turned to look at her cafe again, seeing it not as it was now—slightly damaged and dark—but as it would be again soon, full of light and conversation, the heart of her community. Her home.
“One step at a time,” she agreed.
Chapter 14
Beverly wiped down the coffee counter for the third time that morning, finding comfort in the familiar motion. Two days after the hurricane, she’d managed to get Coastal Coffee open. Not at full capacity, but enough to provide a gathering spot for the community. The generator hummed steadily, powering the coffee machines, the refrigerator, and a few essential lights.
She’d found a handyman to secure tarps over the damaged section of the roof and spent all day yesterday cleaning up the interior. Thankfully, her own cottage had sustained only minor damage. She’d found a few downed tree branches and some garden destruction, but nothing structural. She counted herself among the fortunate ones.
The morning crowd had been steady since she opened. When Nash Carlisle had popped in first thing as usual, congratulating her on opening, it made her feel like life was returning to normal. People wandered in with weary smiles, grateful for a semblance of normal amid the chaos of recovery. Without electricity across most of the island, her generator-powered coffee had become something of a luxury.
“Morning, Miss Beverly.” Tim Marshall walked through the open door. “Rumor has it that you have hot coffee and some baked goods.”
“I do.” She smiled, gesturing to the pastry case where she’d arranged the goods Julie had sent over from The Sweet Shoppe at Lighthouse Point. “Belle Island barely got touched by the storm, so Julie’s been baking up a storm for us—no pun intended.”
Tim chuckled as he approached the counter. “That’s really something, isn’t it? Just a few miles can make all the difference between getting flattened and barely getting rained on.”
“That’s hurricanes for you.” She poured him a cup of coffee and placed a muffin on a plate. “How’s your place holding up?”
“Lost a few shingles. Nothing I can’t fix.” He took the coffee gratefully. “My wife is staying with our daughter in St. Pete’s until the power comes back. Me, I’d rather be here helping where I can.”
She nodded, understanding completely. She’d rather be here too, doing what she could to help restore Magnolia Key.
“More coffee, Mrs. Henderson?” Beverly asked, approaching a table where the woman sat enjoying her first cup.
“Please, dear,” Mrs. Henderson replied, holding up her mug. “I can’t tell you how good it feels to sit somewhere that isn’t that stuffy evacuation center.”
She waited on more customers, slowly making her way to the front of the cafe, and glanced out the front window, surveying Main Street. Workers from the electric company had arrived that morning, and their trucks lined the street as they worked to restore power. Some storefronts remained boarded up while others showed signs of activity as owners returned to assess and repair.
Her gaze stopped abruptly when she spotted a familiar figure on a ladder propped against Patty Miller’s gift shop. Cliff Griffin balanced on the roof, hammering down a blue tarp while Patty stood below, looking up anxiously.
She stared, surprised to see him helping. She hadn’t expected Cliff to stick around after the storm, let alone pitch in with repairs. He wore a T-shirt darkened with sweat, his movements efficient as he secured the tarp over Patty’s damaged roof.
Mrs. Henderson came up beside her and glanced out the window. “Is that Cliff out there? You know, before the storm hit, he helped me out too. He was a troublemaker in school, that’s for sure, but he’s done some nice, helpful things along the way. I think he really believes this project of his will help the town.”
“Maybe.” She wasn’t really willing to give Cliff credit for that.
Mrs. Henderson left, and Beverly watched as Cliff climbed down from the ladder, exchanged words with Patty, and then began folding the ladder. Even from this distance, she could see Patty’s grateful expression as she reached out to touch Cliff’s arm in thanks.
The man did surprise her sometimes. Then she reminded herself that he’d surprised her all those years ago when they were going to leave the island together but instead he’d left her without a word. Yes, he was always full of surprises.
She shook her head, chasing away the memories, and moved back behind the counter, pleased to see the cafe filling up with familiar faces. People continued to stop by for coffee and a bit of news.
And the chatter was filled with Cliff.
Cliff fixing Mr. Peterson’s porch steps.
Cliff helping clear debris from the library’s yard.
Cliff delivering cases of water to the senior center.
Who was this Cliff Griffin everyone was chattering about? Not the Cliff she knew. Had everyone forgotten about his development and how it would change the town?
She continued to wait on customers, relishing the familiar routine. She looked up and saw Darlene come in. “Heard you were open.” Darlene hugged her. “I’m so glad you didn’t have more damage.”
