Chapter
One
ELSIE
“Khaleesi?” I hold the coffee cup up at the pick-up bar with a smile, even though I know someone has gotten the name terribly wrong in their haste to get the order out the door. “Caramel latte with a double shot?”
A woman pushes her way through the early morning crowd, elbowing toward the counter. She casts an annoyed look at the people in front of her and makes her way to me. “I think that’s me.”
“Khaleesi?” I offer her an apologetic grin. “I’m sure someone botched your name.”
“Not sure how they got ‘Khaleesi’ from ‘Lachesis’, but whatever,” she mutters, taking the cup from me. She eyes the busy cafe. “Kind of a madhouse here this morning.”
“It’s like that every morning,” I admit. “Everyone needs their caffeine.” I’m still mentally trying to place her name. It sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t know where I’ve heard it before. It’s certainly not common, and yet the womanherself looks average. She has plain brown hair, nondescript clothes, and a face I’m going to forget the moment she leaves. “We mangle everyone’s name. It’s part of the charm, right?”
But she doesn’t turn to go when she takes her cup. Instead, she tilts her head and studies me, oblivious to the crowd around her waiting for their order to come up. “So much going on and you’re still full of smiles and sunshine. That’s impressive.”
She has no idea. I keep smiling, because sometimes it feels as if a smile is all that’s holding me together. “It’s either smile or break.”
“Exactly. Cheerful determination is the way to handle everything that the universe throws at you, isn’t it?” The woman—Khaleesi or Lachesis—takes a sip of her coffee and shakes her head. “Can you add more cream to this?”
“Of course,” I tell her, and reach for the cup. I add another splash behind the counter, put the lid back on, and hold it out to her again. “There you go.”
She grabs my hand over the coffee and her gaze bores into mine. The noisy sounds of the coffee house die away around us and for a moment, it feels like there’s no one in the room but her and me. “Your brother is going to sit in front of the television,” she tells me. “He’s going to say something, and his nose is going to start bleeding. Then he’s going to tell you that he had a scan and his cancer is back. He didn’t want to bring it up.”
I stare at her in shock. What…how…?
She releases my hand and plucks the coffee from my grip. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll talk more.”
“Have a great day,” I say automatically as she turns and leaves, and the sounds of the packed coffee house drift in again. The clink of forks against porcelain plates mingles with the whooshing hiss of the milk foamer.
That was…weird.
My co-worker nudges me and slides another cup my way. “Georgia?” I call out, automatically picking the cup up and holding it out. “French roast, three sugar for Georgia?”
“Jorge,” a man in a business suit says, irritated, and practically snatches the cup from my grip.
“Have a nice day,” I chirp out automatically, and return to the hustle and bustle. It takes a moment, and I remember where I’ve heard the name Lachesis before. It’s a cool name and one of the three Fates in Greek Mythology—Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. I remember that because I loved mythology and wanted nothing more than to be a classics major back when I thought anyone could go to college for whatever they wanted, instead of what was practical. The thought makes me smile wryly to myself as I grab another coffee order.
That feels like a thousand Elsies ago.
I don’t thinkabout the woman again for the rest of my shift. I don’t think about anything, really, until it’s time to go and the tip jar is counted out and portioned out between all of us. It’s a decent amount but still less than I’d like given that it’s split between all seven of us behind the counter. Still, it’ll buy gas for my car. I pocket it, say my goodbyes to my co-workers, and all but rip my apron off as I head out the door. I smell like coffee grounds, and the last time I went to the university library straight from my shift at the coffee house, my boss complained.
So now I go home to change first, since I can’t afford to lose any more goodwill at the uni library job. They’re already frustrated with me because I’m only taking one class this semester, and it’s online. I’m supposed to do more, but between jugglingthree jobs (I also work at a vet office scrubbing cages and hosing down kennels on nights and weekends) and pet sitting, plus picking up Ubers on holidays, I’m hanging in the best I can.
Right now, college isn’t a priority. Making enough money to keep us afloat is. I know if I’m late, it’s going to mean a talk with my boss, who’s going to point out that university jobs are for people who are committed to actually attending the university and not people like me, so the best thing I can do is stay off his radar.
I race in the door with moments to spare. “I’m changing and racing back out again, David,” I call out as I rush from the front of the house to my room. “Are you good on dinner?”
“I can manage,” my older brother calls back. “I’m just watching the game.”
That makes me pause because my brother isn’t a huge sports fan. Between his part-time job and his classes, there’s not much television time for either of us. I rip a dark sweater over my head and toss my work slacks on the floor, calling out. “You don’t have class tonight?”
He says something that I can’t hear through my door.
“What was that?” I say, hiking a plain beige skirt on over my hips and stepping into a pair of flats. Now dressed, I head back out to the living room. “I couldn’t hear what you said.”
“I said no class tonight.” He stares at the television, not turning to look at me. His hand is on his chin, and he’s slouched in his easy chair in the middle of the small, run-down apartment we share.
