The realization makes me nearly choke on the pancake and I have to take a swig of coffee to get the bite down. I shouldn’t have quit the boutique. I desperately need that paycheck now.
“Nana?” I ask in a small voice.
She looks sad as she eats her breakfast. Her blue eyes are watery as she lifts them in my direction.
“How much did you mortgage? I’d like to see if I can start paying that back off again.”
Her gaze flicks to the stack of bills on the counter. “The exact number is in there, but about thirty thousand.”
My eyes widen, even though I told my face not to react. I don’t need to make her feel any guiltier. I start nodding and can’t seem to stop. “Okay. I can work with that. It might take me awhile, since I have student loans I have to pay back too, but I can help chip away at it.”
Nana reaches out and pats the back of my hand. “You’re a good girl, Betsy Mae. Enough about that nonsense. Tell me about your life in California. Your mama was never very good about keeping me informed. When you called and told me you wanted to move out here, I was so surprised. Figured you two would never leave the West Coast.”
That lump in my throat never leaves, but I manage to eat the rest of my breakfast. “Well, I finished two degrees, which turned out to be pretty useless as I still don’t know what I want to do with my life. My boyfriend, the one I was living with, broke up with me for his coworker, some blonde bombshell who wore heels and skirts. I had to move out, but didn’t have anywhere to go. All my friends had roommates already and living on my own is impossible in California with the rent prices.” I sigh, suddenly out of steam.
Nana pats my hand again. “It’s okay, darlin’. You’re always welcome here. I’m just so glad you called me. You can live with me as long as you want, even if it’s after I’m crossin’ through those pearly gates.”
I smile gratefully. “I just feel like such a loser. I’ve amassed all this student debt and I don’t even use my two degrees. I stilldon’t know what I want to do with my life. No boyfriend. No career.”
I trail off, feeling more exposed than I’ve ever been. All my life, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t turn out like my mother. She’s gone through so many minimum-wage jobs, she probably can’t even remember them all. She quits every single one, usually because of a boss who comes down on her for showing up late, or not showing up at all. She goes through almost as many boyfriends. I grew up in constant fear that there wouldn’t be enough money that month for basic necessities. College was my answer. I’d get a degree and launch a career that would earn me plenty of money.
But here I am at thirty-four realizing I’m just like my mother.
The realization stings.
“I’m a firm believer in everything happening for a reason. I know you might think different, but once you get to my age, you can feel things deep in your bones. You, Betsy Mae, were never in the right place. Now that you’re here in Heaven, you’ll find your purpose. I jus’ know it! You have a job. A new roof over your head. Things are already turning around, darlin’!”
It takes all the acting skills I have to keep my smile in place. Nana is so precious, giving me this pep talk. She believes in me, something my own mother never did.
I will not let her down.
I scrape my chair back as I stand. I collect my plate and Nana’s, holding my head up high. “Thank you, Nana. I believe you’re right too! Now that my belly’s full, I have an errand to run before we sit down and cheer for our Angels.”
“That’s the spirit!” Nana beams up at me, a tiny bundle of positivity and goodness. It’s enough to make the toughest of hearts melt.
I rush through cleaning the dishes and the kitchen, then race upstairs to get dressed. I’m out the door and headed to town ona very specific mission. I’m laser focused and determined to fix things here for Nana. And for myself.
The scent of freshly baked pastries and roasted coffee hits my nose the second I push open the door at Cloud Nine Coffee. The barista that was here when I came with Mary London lifts her head and gives me a welcoming smile like she remembers me. Maybe she does. A weird kind of warmth spreads in my chest. I get in line, and when it’s my time to order from Amanda—which I gleaned from her name tag—I lean in and drop my voice.
“Any chance I can fill out an application for the open job?” I nod my head toward the Help Wanted sign in the front window that I saw when I was here two days ago.
Amanda amps up the smile and reaches under the register for a single sheet of paper. “Sure thing! The boss is here today. I’ll see if he’s available to do the interview right away. Just fill this out and have a seat.”
I tip her more than the standard twenty percent I give all servers, and have a seat at a two-seater table in the far corner. I brought my résumé with me, which shows extensive barista experience, and I fill out the form. My knee is jostling up and down as I wait. Amanda comes over with my drink instead of calling my name like everyone else.
“He said he’d be right out. Good luck!” She tosses me a wink that feels genuine. I can’t help but shake my head at the differences between Heaven and Hell, my hometown. I nearly snort at my own joke. Life truly is funnier than fiction.
“It’s too sweet!” barks out an older gentleman on the other side of the shop.
“I’ll make you a new one, Mr. Barrett.” Amanda darts over to take the offending drink from his hand. I lift an amused eyebrow, remembering how horrible some people can be to service workers. If I can get this job, I’m sure I’ll be having to deal with lots of Mr. Barretts.
“Betsy?”
The timbre of the male voice has a shiver running up my spine. I twist so fast in the wooden chair I hear my neck pop. Silas stands there in a light purple polo and khaki shorts, eyeing me like I’m a bomb that might go off if he steps any closer. He looks just as handsome as ever, though his hair is a bit mussed, like he’s been running his fingers through it.
Well, this is awkward.
“Hi, Silas,” I say pleasantly. As if I didn’t flip him off repeatedly the entire time I was employed and then quit on him abruptly yesterday. “Getting some coffee?”
