Eleanor grinned at her brother’s eagerness to be involved. If she had one qualm about moving to Magnolia Shore, it was that it put even more miles between her and Shane. Moving to California hadn’t been a good option though. Not only was it terribly expensive, but Shane worked so much that she wouldn’t get to see him very frequently, anyway.
“Okay, well, there’s a fence to my left that’s one of those rustic split rail fences.”
“Very quaint. What else?”
“Beyond it is some farmhouse style homes. Wait, they might actually be a farm, or at least one of them.”
“Amazing, I love it. Tell me more.”
“Trees. Trees everywhere.” Her voice showed her excitement. “And we’re getting a little more into the town area now. Houses are closer together, there are some shops, cute little boutiques, and—ooh! Coffee shop!”
This was probably fate, Eleanor reasoned. Shane was waiting for coffee, Eleanorwanteda coffee, and boom! Coffee shop.
“You should probably grab a cup,” her brother said, proving once again that he was the best brother in the entire world. “I’m just about to the front of the line at the coffee cart, anyway, and I have to run to yetanothermeeting with these clients. But, hey. Don’t forget a single detail. I’m going to want to hear all about it later. Okay?”
“Okay,” Eleanor agreed as she swung into a parking spot in front of the adorable Juniper Café. “Good luck with your meeting.”
“Good luck living in a postcard,” he teased.
“You jerk!” She was laughing as she insulted him, though, so he knew she didn’t mean it. He was laughing on the other end too. “Go. I love you.”
“Love you too. I’m proud of you. Talk soon.”
As they hung up, Eleanor was already scheming about how to get her brother to come visit her in her new picture-perfect town, as Shane would put it. Surely he had some vacation time saved up, given that he worked about a million hours a week?
She would figure it out, she told herself confidently as she entered the coffee shop.
The ambiance inside was honestly perfect, in Eleanor’s opinion. The energy was bustling, even though it wasn’t terribly crowded inside. Still, the hissing of the espresso maker, the chatter of customers as they ate their lunches, and the low, unobtrusive music playing in the background combined into a homey symphony that reminded Eleanor of all the best parts of a large family dinner.
Plus, the pastry case looked to die for. Unlike at Shane’s hectic coffee cart thousands of miles away, there was no line to order at Juniper Café, so Eleanor hurried up to the pastry case to inspect her options.
“Oh no,” she mumbled to herself. “How am I even supposed to choose?”
The bear claws were flaky and drizzled with honey and chocolate, slivers of almonds sprinkled liberally atop. The lemon bars were fat and bright yellow, dusted with confectioner’s sugar. There were three or four flavors of cupcakes, each with different colors of icing.
In the end, though, it was the cinnamon bun that caught Eleanor’s attention. It was indulgently large, with cinnamon filling poking out from between the layers. Nothing, in Eleanor’s opinion, was more disappointing than a cinnamon bun lacking in cinnamon. This one, though, clearly did not have that problem… nor had the baker been stingy with the frosting, which covered the top of the bun and dripped down the sides in lazy rivulets.
Her mouth watered just looking at it.
“I’ll take a cinnamon bun,” she told the girl behind the counter before she could talk herself out of it.
“Amazing,” the barista said. She was probably college-aged and looked cheerful. She immediately started donning gloves to grab the pastry. “Do you want it warmed up a little? It only takes a minute or so and honestly, Ihighlyrecommend it.”
Well, when she put it that way…
“Yes, I do,” Eleanor said, forcing down the part of her that wanted to demur, insist that the girl not go to any additional trouble for her sake. She’d shouted down that part of herself for too long. No more.
“Very smart,” the girl said with a grin. She popped the bun into a little warming oven that was waiting behind the counter and spun the dial with practiced effortlessness. “And can I get you something to drink?”
“Whoops, I got so distracted by the pastries, I didn’t even look at the drinks menu,” Eleanor said, peering up at the sign behind the counter. There were a lot of options, but since the worker had offered her recommendation about heating up the bun so readily…
“Do you have a favorite?” Eleanor asked.
“I’m a honey lavender latte girl,” the barista answered immediately. “It’s perfect for spring, sweet and just a little floral.”
Eleanor considered for only a moment. She wasn’t typically a fancy drink kind of person. Drip coffee from her trusty old machine was good enough for her. But thatdidsound good.
“You know what, let’s do it,” she said decisively.
