“Rough visit,” I said.
She arched an eyebrow and jerked her chin toward the back. “C’mon. Sit. I’ll get us coffee after I shoo out those two customers and lock the door.”
The back room was just as I remembered—folding chairs, a battered card table, walls lined with snapshots of every teenager who’d survived a shift. I sat, the old vinyl squeaking beneath me. Doris reappeared with two mugs of coffee, strong and dark as engine oil. No whiskey in them, either. “Want to talk about it?” The silence stretched until she sighed. “Let me guess. It’s a guy.”
I choked. “Isn’t it always?”
“Only for the ones worth the trouble.”
I stared into my mug, inhaling the steam. “I thought we had something, and he just… walked out. Now I don’t know what to do.”
Doris nodded, unsurprised. “Men can be like ice cream on a hot day. Sweet, then gone before you blink.” She laid a heavy, calloused hand over mine. “You don’t need to leave, Brynn. This island’s big enough for a broken heart and a comeback.”
I squeezed her hand. “I don’t think I can. We were together less than a week! How can every corner, every breath of bracing air, remind me of him? Remind me that I’m here alone?”
“That’s not a reason to run. That’s a reason to fightfor what you want.” Doris inhaled and leveled a sharp glance at me. “A chain out of Tampa made an offer on the Scoop yesterday. A good one. I told them I’d think about it.”
The words landed like a punch. “Really?”
“I hate the idea of selling to a chain. But I’m tired, Brynn. After our talk…” She leaned in. “Are you sure you don’t want to buy the shop? Because if you do, I need to know today.”
The room spun. “I can’t, Doris! I’m a teacher. I don’t know anything about running a business.”
She barked a laugh. “Bullshit. You ran this shop for two months that summer when my knee gave out. You know more than most.”
I shook my head, the excuses sounding weak, even to me. “I’ve never owned anything. What if I fail?”
What if Rob was right? What if I am utterly unambitious and this is just a fantasy?
Doris squeezed my hand so hard my knuckles blanched. “So what? Life’s not about getting it right on the first try. Sometimes you have to say yes, even if it scares you.”
The silence that followed was heavier, but also brighter. I looked around the little shop—the photographs, the ancient espresso machine, the rainbow of scoops. I thought about what it would mean to have this, to belong, to stay. My heart twisted.
“I’ll think about it,” I whispered.
Doris nodded, satisfied. “Good. You’ve got until close of business. But if you walk away, you’ll always wonder.”
She stood and returned to her routine as if the fate of the Scoop and my life weren’t hanging in the balance. I stayed in that chair a long time, listening to the thumping whirr of the ancient AC. The question wasn’t whether Iwanted the Scoop. The question was whether I was brave enough to want anything at all.
I stared at my reflection in the bottom of the coffee cup and tried to imagine a future where I didn’t run away. It looked better than I expected.
After a while, Doris reappeared in the doorway. “You’re still here, huh?”
I rested my head in my hands. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I love the idea of owning this place. It’s home to me in a way Atlanta has never been. But, Doris, I’m a school teacher! I’ve been responsible with my money, but I don’t have a trust fund, you know. How could it possibly work?”
She nodded sagely. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll be back.”
I blinked at the empty doorway. What could she be up to?
True to her word, Doris was soon back in the Scoop’s back room, car keys in one hand.
“Let’s go,” she barked.
“Huh? Go where?”
“As you rightly pointed out, we need some counsel. So we’re off to the bank. Come on, girl. Time’s a-wastin’.”
She flipped the sign toClosedbefore relocking the door behind us. The air on Main Street shimmered over the pavement as we marched down the sidewalk. Doris set a pace that bordered on a power walk, and I trailed behind, my heart thudding.
