“What are youreading?” Natalie asked during a slow period inside Pony Expresso one day.
Mia glanced at her boss before slipping her phone into an apron pocket. “Sorry. A friend of mine sent me something she thought I would find interesting. I plan on getting my doctorate in political science, and it was an article regarding how education is used as a social hurdle for controlling the political—”
“El agua de Jamaica,” Natalie shouted like it was the answer to a game show.
“I’m sorry?”
“Agua de Jamaica. It’s been bothering me ever since your interview. You seemed so familiar, and I finally figured it out. Was your mom Lori? Laura?”
“Laura.”
Natalie clapped her palms together. “I knew it! I can totally see it. She used to come in a lot because I would always make a fresh batch of the drink during the summer. She loved it.”
“Is that the hibiscus tea?” She remembered her mom ordering it whenever they went to one of the local taquerias.
“Yeah. I should really bring it back. I don’t know why I stopped making it. Looking at you just reminded me of it though. My god, I can’t believe how much you look like Laura.”
Mia scratched at the countertop, feeling uncomfortable. She wasn’t in the mood to reminisce on the subject of her mom today.
Not noticing any awkwardness, Natalie continued while wrapping her long locks into a sloppy bun. “Yeah, she and her friends would go to the Pine Pattern Quilt Shop down the street and come here afterward for fabric talk. It was like a weekly thing. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen them around as much. But if they come in, I’ll point them out to you. I bet they’d love to talk to you. I was sorry to hear about your mom.”
Mia pushed down the lump in her throat while wiping a cloth across the espresso machine. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“She was so nice. Always really sweet and loved my agua de Jamaica. During the holidays she’d always bring me a batch of polvorones. Do you also quilt?”
“No.”
Natalie released a light sigh. “Your mom definitely loved her fabric. I always imagined your house was bursting with it, like coming out of the windows kind of thing.”
This made Mia laugh. Yes, her mom definitely had an impressive fabric stash, one which was organized by color and labeled on shelves. “Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad, but my dad got mad one time when he discovered that an old couch in the garage was actually made from bins of fabric. My mom had stacked up large plastic bins together in the shape of a couch and draped a cover over it.”
Natalie burst out laughing. “God! I totally believe it. Your mom was hilarious and pretty smart.”
“She could be sneaky when it was necessary.” While Mia had been uncomfortable at the beginning, laughing with Natalie about her mom’s fabric problem made the whole topic suddenly not so heavy. In fact, it was kind of nice.
“Well, I can tell you’re just like her,” Natalie said, breaking through her thoughts. “Not only do you look alike, but you’re also just as nice as her. I’m sure your mom would have gotten a kick out of you working here.”
This observation had a sobering effect on Mia. First of all, she wasn’t sure if her mom, like her dad, would feel let down that her pride-and-joy daughter wasn’t doing more in her life. And, secondly, Mia wasn’t sure she was nice at all. Especially after what happened the previous week and what she had said to Ross. Her mom would have been disappointed in her lack of kindness. Whatever positive feelings he had from them spending time together was probably tarnished forever, and she didn’t blame him. She spent a considerable amount of time replaying Ross’s expression as it went from warm to cool.
She hated that no matter where she went in the world, there would be a person who held such a poor opinion of her.
She could fix this. She had to.
“You have got to be kidding me. This damn dog is back again. Go on. Get out.”
Mia glanced up from cleaning and spotted her boss waving her hands in an attempt to rid them of the three-legged dog, who had parked its curly-haired ass in the middle of the small coffee shop. The dog’s one eye gawked at the counter as if he was one more customer, who needed extra time reading the chalkboard menu.
“Isn’t that the jewelry store dog?”
“Yeah. That jewelry guy has a habit of leaving the shop door open on nice days, and I made the mistake of giving this scruff-muffin a stale bagel once. Now he thinks he can come over here for treats whenever he wants.” Natalie blew out a frustrated breath and tried communicating with the dog again. “Gooooo hoooome!” She motioned in the jewelry store’s direction in wild, exaggerated movements as if she and the dog were involved in a game of charades.
Mia laughed. “Does it help to say it louder?”
Natalie dropped her arms in a frustrated smack. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure the dog can hear me or maybe he doesn’t want to hear me.”
“Well, I’m off for the day. How about if I lure the dog back to the jewelry store on my way out?”
“Yes, please.”
