“I drink it black.”
“Heaven help you then.”
I frowned and took a sip. I nearly spat it back out. Coffee was something I discovered when I turned eighteen and was the way I got through life. Over time, I found my favorites. I knew all the flavors, from bright and tangy to dark and chocolatey. One of the reasons I drank my coffee black was to get every bit of the notes.
This tasted like burnt ass.
“What the fuck is that?”
“That is Strawberry Springs’ finest.” Marjorie laughed. “You had the same reaction as everyone else.”
“Strawberry Springs needs better standards.”
“You’re telling me. But no one is gonna open a coffee shop here. It would go out of business.”
My lips pressed together. I wanted to open a business of my own one day. Something legitimate with no secrets to hide. I doubted I had the personality for a coffee shop, but I did know enough about the product.
Maybe I knew too much.
I pondered it as I took another sip.
“Jeez, you can handle caffeine this late?” Henrietta asked. “I’d be jumping off the walls.”
“We haven’t been able to jump off walls since the eighties, Hen.” Marjorie laughed.
“You didn’t tell her what we were talking about.” I had to get them back on track. Either that or distract myself from the ass I was drinking. “Why?”
“Obviously you’re on edge. I mean, just look at you.” Marjorie gestured up and down. “Unlike some people, we don’t pry to the point of breaking.”
“Well, we try not to,” Henrietta added. “Marjorie loves to toe the line on what others can handle.”
“I forget not everyone has the patience like you do.”
Henrietta shook her head. “You overestimate my patience. I can’t believe I’m still married to you.”
“Well, it started because I was the only out lesbian in the state.”
“That too.”
“But you stay because I’m funny.” Marjorie winked at Henrietta and she blushed.
I’d never been around people like this, people who were so ... open. I was an expert at not getting attached, but if I weren’t, I’d say I could like it in Strawberry Springs.
“So, any reason you’re acting like a cornered raccoon?” Marjorie asked.
“I’m . . . normal.”
“Yeah, right.”
“If he doesn’t want to answer, he doesn’t have to,” Henrietta said.
“Then tell me that, kid. I won’t get offended.”
I opened my mouth to do just that. Then something else came out. “I’m here to start over. Get away from my past. But it’s ... hard. And I think my past might follow me.”
Both women’s eyes went wide. I looked down. I hadn’t meant to say all of that.
“You’re in the right place,” Marjorie said after a pause. “No one looks twice in these parts. And a bunch of us started over here.”
