Today, I’m breathing easier after a night’s sleep at my destination. If I can find a place to rent and a job in the next few days, it’ll be another huge weight off.
But first, coffee.
I made sure to never research my route or Juniper View itself on any of the devices I used in LA. The goal of the past year was to erase myself from my ex’s life as thoroughly as possible. The dream scenario is that he doesn’t even know I’m gone, or if he does, he doesn’t care. Either way, I’d give almost anything for his ambivalence.
I’d give up my entire life and risk starting over in a new place where no one knows me and I can never go back to who I was before.
Well. Yeah. That.
I did make time to search the town on my new phone, and I read reviews of all the small businesses and local places. As anxious as I’ve been, this is one spot I can’t wait to check out.
Sitting across from the grassy town square park that seems to be the hub of the wheel that is downtown Juniper View, Corner Coffee Shop rests on a funny little sliver of land that is, as the name suggests, protruding onto the corner of the park. It’s a quaint, squat house with a forest green door and black shutters and a porch that stretches across the whole of the space, from sidewalk to sidewalk, welcoming visitors in from all possible directions. It must’ve been an actual home based on the outside appearance, and when I pass a brass placard that explains it’s one of the original historic homes from the town’s founding in the early 1900s, it makes sense.
My heart patters with nerves and excitement as I pull the door open and a bell jingles when I enter.
“Welcome to Corner Coffee Shop! Happy Saturday!”
This is called out from the depths of the store—whoever said it is not standing at the counter a few feet inside. The interior feels more like an eclectic home goods shop than a café with its displays of furniture, locally made wares based on the signage, and pottery. Farther in, to the left of the counter space, are a few tables and chairs, and a bookcase with a sign above it that says, “Take one, leave one.”
One of my walls cracks. Maybe more than that, because I’m instantly in love.
Any store that promotes reading and sharing books? Sold. Sign me up. Take my money.
Just not too much…
Right. Of course not too much, because we are on a budget. Until I get a job, I can’t afford luxuries.
But is coffee aluxury?I mean, technically yes, but philosophically? Psychologically? Emotionally? No.
The house has a little bar that runs along the side of the area that must’ve been a galley kitchen but is now open-concept so patrons can see the coffee-making and even the ovens in action. The menu is scrawled on four-paned windows hung up on the wall in lieu of a chalkboard or something electronic and the offerings are written in stylish hand-lettering. There’s a deep white basin sink and big jars holding different tea blends, a huge espresso machine, and a whole stretch of countertop devoted to pretty pastries nestled under glass domes.
The aesthetic is cozy and natural with lots of wood tones, whites, glass, and copper, occasional black, green, and mustard yellow accents.
It’s so perfect for this little mountain town, and paired with the bookshelf, I may never leave.
After a few seconds of taking it all in, I still haven’t actually seen the person who works here, but there are other eyes on me, so I make a point to smile.
I don’t want to be the newcomer who’s rude or even who’s trying to be discreet but then ultimately draws attention. From what I understand, the main tourist season for this small town isn’t the dead of winter, despite what its neighboring town, Silverton, experiences thanks to their fancy ski resort. So I need to be here, but not be obvious. I need to blend in enough that people aren’t surprised to see me, but don’t need to know anything about me.
I just need a minute to catch my breath, and a tiny sprout of hope is trying to peek its head up.
“She’ll be right out. Sorry.”
The man sitting closest to the counter at a small two-person table gives me a kind smile and—whoa.This guy is the kind of handsome you get used to in LA, too, but he’s also not LA good-looking because it’s not the manicured appearance I’ve grown accustomed to. He’s got a close-cropped beard and neatly styled hair and blue eyes that practically hypnotize.
He’d play a love interest doctor in season thirty-five ofGrey’s Anatomyor something. He’d be Dr. McSexy or McGorgeous, no question.
It finally dawns on me that I haven’t responded, so I rush to say, “Thanks. I’m not in a hurry.”
“So sorry. Hi. Hello. Oh! Are you from out of town? Passing through or staying a while?”
The woman speaking to me stands behind an old-timey cash register and is, somehow more than the man I just spoke with, stunningly beautiful. She’s got dark red hair with a Little Mermaid-like swoop of bangs in the front and a long, loose braid trailing over one shoulder, her pretty face punctuated with bright blue eyes. Creamy skin with freckles scattered around striking features that end in a perfect chin.
“Hi. Um, yes. Just arrived. Planning to stay a while.” I can’t pretend I’m only passing through because I want to be able to come here again, but I’m desperately hoping she’ll let that be it.
Don’t ask me where. Or why. Or… anything?
She beams. “Oh my gosh, welcome! And thank you for stopping into Corner Coffee on your first day here.”She curtsies dramatically, hands out and fingers pinched as though she’s holding a fancy dress with the movement.
