Jeb Nobly, to his wife’s great distress, hasn’t quite found his happy place in the world of retirement yet. “Trust me,” I say, “I’ve assured him that if Mimi finds him so much as replacing a bulb around here, she’ll have his head. But he can’t stop himself. The man’s as stubborn as she is.”
I grew up next to Jeb and Mimi Nobly. The couple is like a set of bonus parents, older and wiser than my own.
“At least he admits that he isn’t up for refurbishing the second train car,” Kirsten says.
I nod, my heart warming with affection for the sweet man. “Yeah, true.” Only selfishly, I wish that he’d do it. Jeb did an incredible job on the first one.
My mind shoots to my second meeting of the day. A carpenter named Braxton who happens to be hunky Beau’s younger brother. He’ll be giving me a bid on completing the second addition.
“You ready to meet Braxton?” Kirsten asks.
I resist an eye roll because I know where she’s going. “As ready as I am to meet anyone I’ve considered hiring.”
“Oh, come on,” she says. “Could you at leastlookat him as a potentiallove interest?”
I groan loud enough for Kirsten to hear. “I don’t know how else to tell you that that is a horrible idea.”
“You’rethe one who asked me if Beau had any brothers. Now that you know he does have one that’s singleandclose to your age, you’re going to refuse evenonedate with him?”
“You’re probably going to marry his older brother, Kirs,” I say. “If I started dating him and something went wrong, it could come between you and Beau.”
“That sounds like an excuse, Mags. You’re vacillating again. Stop being so ambivalent, would you?”
I shake my head. “If things didn’t work out, you’d take my side, and Beau would take his side which would automatically put you two on opposite sides. Admit it—it’s not a good idea. Besides, Clarissa Lovely says relationships should happen organically.” I might be contorting her words a bit, but shedoessay you shouldn’t try and force it.
“Hmm,” Kirsten says thoughtfully. “Things with Beau were definitely organic.”
“See? It’s settled.” As I pull into the parking lot, I consider the crazy way Kirsten and Beau ended up together. Talk about an unexpected love story. In short, cheater Greg was hooking up with Beau’s Barbie wife. Kirsten and Beau planned a sting op to catch them and recorded the rendezvous from afar. Someone should write the book one day.
I glide to a stop in the stall farthest from the door. The parking lot is fuller than usual. Probably the after-Christmas rush of those still on holiday. Like most of the places around here, we were closed yesterday for Christmas.
“Well,” I say, “I’m here.”
Kirsten sighs heavily. As her little sister, I’ve been the cause of that sigh more times than I can count. “Okay, I’ll let you go. But if Braxton takes the job, and you guys fall for each other that way, it will be totally organic, and I don’t want you to be closed off to the opportunity, okay? Goodbye.” She disconnects before I can argue.
“Bye,” I say as I shut off the engine.
Every time I step out of my adorable, sunshine yellow Jeep Renegade, whose name is Sunny, by the way, I must admire herfor at least sixty seconds. Ilovethis car, and I worked very hard to get her.
I lift my nose to inhale the salty ocean breeze as the waves gurgle and whoosh in the distance. It’s well past high tide this morning, and the sun is already making a show. Soon, the ground will be mostly dry. That’s not to say it’s warm. It is cold. Cold enough to make me shiver all the way to the door. It’ll get increasingly colder in January before temps slowly start to rise. By March, we begin seeing diehards show up to surf in their wetsuits.
I inhale deeper as I note the shift in the air, that rich aroma of fresh brew delighting my senses and, hopefully, enticing passersby. It grows infinitely stronger as I pull open the door and step into the warmth and comfort of my shop.
If admiring Sunny takes at least sixty seconds, admiring my dream of a coffee shop takes much longer. Customers curl into the cozy couches by the fireplace. Some huddle up to the counter, loosening coats, clutching gift cards, and eyeing the massive chalkboard menu. Others are scattered throughout the upper and lower dining areas, tipping back mugs or inhaling the heavenly steam floating over their faces.
Many online reviewers say the Coffee Loft is their home away from home, and I couldn’t agree more. It might be my workplace, but the homey, laid-back environment makes most workdays a joy.
My gaze drifts to the vaulted ceiling beside the loft, which, I’m told, used to be an overwatch of sorts for the old train station. There, hanging beautifully and boldly along that great wall, is the banner for Cupid Darts. The cover is bright whitewith shadowy Cupids in faded black—bows drawn—arrows ready.
At the center of the image is a shiny, crimson heart, an arrow piercing its center. It’s a mix between a love heart found on cards and such and a three-dimensional human heart you might see beating in one’s chest. There’s an artistic trick at play, one that makes it look like the heart is beating. With the slightest tip of my head or shift of my gaze, the bottom chamber seems to contract while the upper portion swells on one side.
Glossy blood oozes down the exposed arrow tip, dripping to dot theiof the title with a delicate splotch.Cupid Dartsis scrawled in matching red; the font, intricate and dainty.
It gives the impression that the tiny matchmakers sneak up on people who don’t even expect it.
Huh,I muse.I don’t know about that.I suppose it’s possible that some single, as in never-been-married women my age, aren’t looking for love, but I dare say that most of us are, and the ones whosaythey’re not are only lying to themselves. So, even inthatcase, how can it possibly take anyone by surprise?
Still, the imagery is hauntingly beautiful, like some of my favorite songs, and I feel it stirring new emotions, old longings, and fresh determination. I plan todevourthis book, and maybe, just maybe, it will be the very thing that changes my life.
