Another employee leans against the counter nearby, arms crossed, studying me with open curiosity. She can’t be more than sixteen, but she has the confidence of someone who’s already decided who she is.
“So,” she says, grinning. “You’re the new girl. I’m Savannah.”
I laugh. “Is it that obvious? Aurora.”
“Kinda,” she says. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re trying very hard not to fall in love with the place.”
Lani snorts. “Good luck with that.”
The coffee is perfect. I take a sip and feel my spine unclench by about three degrees.
“So,” Lani says casually, leaning her elbows on the counter. “You planning to be here long?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “A few days. Maybe more.”
Her eyes soften. “That’s how it starts.”
Savannah’s gaze flicks briefly toward Zane, then back to me. “That’s how everyone ends up staying.”
I glance at Zane without meaning to. He catches my look, lifts his coffee in a silent toast, then looks away. I guess he doesn’t want to read too much into it.
The bell over the door explodes into noise.
“Oh… no,” Lani mutters fondly. “Brace yourselves.”
A woman barrels in first, hair in a messy bun, diaper bag slung over one shoulder like she’s late to something important. She’s juggling a stroller with one hand and a leash with the other.
The leash is attached to a gremlin.
The gremlin is a French bulldog in a neon harness who launches himself forward, skidding across the floor, snorting and wheezing with purpose.
The stroller rattles ominously.
One child is hanging halfway out of it upside down. Another is chanting something that sounds suspiciously like a spell. The third is very deliberately attempting to feed a biscotti to the dog.
“Oh, nope, Max, we do not feed Pickle baked goods,” Ivy says calmly, as if this sentence exists in her daily vocabulary. “Mia, feet inside the stroller. Lily, sweetheart, if you let go of that cup, gravity will win.”
Gravity does, in fact, win.
Lily’s sippy cup hits the floor. Pickle lunges. Someone laughs loudly.
“Triplets,” Ivy says apologetically to me, like that explains everything. “Max, Mia, Lily.”
Max pops upright long enough to wave. “Hi!”
Mia squints at me, deciding whether I’m a friend or a future accomplice.
Lily just smiles and hands me a slightly damp napkin like it’s a gift.
“Oh my goodness,” I breathe as Pickle attempts to climb my leg.
“Pickle, no,sir,” the woman says sternly, which does nothing. “I am begging you to respect personal space.”
Behind her, more people pour in.
