Pulling open the door to the café, I’m greeted with the smell of roasted coffee beans, sweet pastries, and a smiling Chase waving at me from the front of the line at the counter.
“Perfect timing,” he says when I approach.
We give each other a slightly awkward hug in greeting.
“Have you ordered yet?”
“Was just about to.” He pulls out his wallet and removes a twenty-dollar bill. “On me. Get whatever you want.”
I never did get around to eating the omelet Jordan prepared for me, only the bowl of fruit. Chase is also one of four people, along with Natalie, Harper, and Mason, who I’ve been able to eat in front of. I don’t know why I can do it with him and not Jordan. Maybe it’s because I don’t care what Chase thinks about me. His perception of how I look doesn’t matter.
“A wheat muffin and a large black coffee, please,” I tell the woman behind the counter.
“Earl Grey tea with honey and a chocolate chip croissant for me,” Chase adds.
After he pays, we shuffle down to the other end of the counter to wait for our order.
“So, drywall, huh?” he asks, taking a packet of brown sugar from the service rack filled with different sweeteners and shake bottles of spices like cinnamon and powdered sugar.
I grab two yellow packets of sweetener for my coffee. “Hopefully, but I want to tackle the rotten wood boards on the front porch first. Natalie’s house needs a lot of work, so I’m trying to prioritize and tackle the bigger jobs first.”
“Here you go.”
Chase takes the bag containing our pastries that the woman hands him.
“Have a nice day,” she says and starts making the next order.
He gestures with the bag. “Grab a table or take this outside?”
“Outside, if you don’t mind.”
The day is nice, and the temperatures are mild. Thunderstorms are forecasted for later next week, so might as well enjoy the good weather while it lasts. The southeastern region of Texas doesn’t often get the more violent weather and tornadoes that the more northern and central areas do. Here, it’s mostly torrential rains that cause street flooding. Hurricanes are what we have to prepare for, Ike and Harvey being the worst ones to hit Woodspire. North Carolina has its fair share of hurricanes as well. Florence hit a month after I arrived and caused massive flooding, much like Harvey did here.
As we’re walking to the door to leave, I feel a phantom, prickling sensation on the back of my neck, like someone’s watching me. When I casually scan around to pinpoint where the uncomfortable feeling is coming from, I notice a woman sitting at a corner table near the window openly glaring with unveiled hostility. I quickly look away and elbow Chase.
“Without being obvious, do you know who the woman is sitting near the window? Red blouse, short blonde hair.”
Chase pushes on the door with one arm and holds it open for me. He turns his body so that he’s facing the general direction of where I said the woman was sitting.
“The one who looks like she hopes I burst into flames?”
I place the toe of my shoe against the bottom of the door, so it doesn’t close on Chase.
“You? I thought she was glaring at me.”
I know it sounds paranoid and utterly asinine, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Amelia has told her friends to spy on me.
“Nope. Like I told you, I’mpersona non grataaround here. I get that a lot when I come into town.”
Taken aback, I can only reply, “Seriously?”
“Yep. It’s why I moved to Hopper Springs.”
I stop Chase with a hand to his arm. The couple walking behind us have to separate and go around us.
“Chase, I don’t know what to say. That… really sucks.”
The hand carrying the bag of food covers mine. “Thanks. But it is what it is.”
