“Great. I’ll see you then.” He hangs up, and I breathe a laugh right as Knightley pulls his chair out to sit.
“Mr. Sam just called and asked to see me in an hour at Books and Beans,” I inform him. “He said he has a question to ask me that can’t wait.”
“Well, we will eat quickly and meet him.” Knightley sips his water as if it’s settled, and those gnarly bees from earlier return.
“You’re coming with me?”
He winks. “Of course. What if he’s a psychopath and is luring you to murder you? I’m supposed to protect you from such beings, right?”
“Mr. Sam is far from a psychopath,” I begin to argue, but then I realize what he’s doing. “Nope. Back to the topic at hand. You went and got yourself a fake girlfriend. I want to hear everything.”
He groans dramatically, throwing his head back and hands up. “Fine. Anything for you, Janie.” As he begins to recount how and why he and Mallory created their ruse, my brain short circuits, replaying ‘Anything for you, Janie’ on an endless loop.
What did someone slip into my water?
Knightley
Rule #17: Listen to your clients’ wishes and desires. Whether you believe it or not, they know themselves better than you know them.
The lights inside of Books and Beans are on, but the closed sign is hanging on the door. An elderly man hobbles from around the coffee bar and gets the door for us.
“Emma Jane,” he says though his eyes cut to me. “You brought your mayor friend?”
She laughs and taps my forearm. “We were having dinner when you called, so I brought him along.”
“Very well,” Mr. Sam says, motioning for us to follow him inside. “I’ve made some tea for us, but it looks like I’ll need to make one more cup.”
Emma Jane tells him to go ahead and sit, saying she will make a cup for me. Once we are all sitting at the center table of the cafe, Mr. Sam sighs. “I opened this cafe with my wife many years ago. She wanted to create a place where people could connect. A place for friends to gather and for business deals to take place. A place forstrangers to meet and for introverts to escape to within the pages of a book.” He pauses, his brown eyes flicking between me and Emma Jane. “A place for lovers to come together.”
My eyes drift to Emma Jane, and she’s looking at me. Not with an uncomfortable expression, but with…
Want. Desire.
Could she possibly…?
She came out to dinner with me. Dare I get my hopes up?
“We always thought I’d be the one to go first, you know?”
“Why is that?” Emma Jane asks, her attention turning back to the elderly man.
He chuckles. “She was fifteen years younger than me. Not once did I think I would outlive her, and well, I wish that wasn't the case.”
I catch her gaze again, and that same expression—curious eyes, parted lips, and a slight tilt of the head—has me thinking thoughts I have no business thinking.
Or…can I have those thoughts? Mom seems to not mind us together if all of her little comments about us over the past year mean anything. Mallory encouraged me, though I had no inkling she knew about my unsolicited feelings toward Emma Jane. I will have to ask her about that later.
“I wish I could have known her,” Emma Jane says, clearing her throat. She’s still looking at me, however. “Ask her how she navigated falling for an older man.”
Did she just—
Breath leaves my body as I process her words. Emma Jane and Mr. Sam continue talking, and I tune back into the conversation just in time to hear him offer her the business at no cost.
"I've thought about your request to purchase Books and Beans, and I prayed over whether to sell or not. But God gave me a clear answer to give this place to you and move to be with my daughter. She's pregnant, and I want to be closer to my grandchild. It is time to let this place go." Mr. Sam smiles softly, crinkles forming around his eyes. Emma Jane leaps up and accepts the offer with a tearful hug while I try to make sense of this random act of kindness.
“What just happened?” My brain is loading, catching up. When they both give me their attention—Mr. Sam nods and Emma Jane grins ear-to-ear—I say, “This is amazing, Emma Jane.”
She eyes me warily, wiping a falling tear. “You aren’t going to say I’m in over my head? Tell me I’m not cut out for business ownership?”
