Page 6 of Love in the Time of Conversation Hearts

On Monday morning, Lauren stops by my house bright and early. Her blue eyes are glassy from the cold, and her dark hair falls board-straight from underneath a tan knit hat. Her green puffer coat completes the look, acting like a beacon against the dreary sky. I am decidedly less awake as I pull on my own coat and jam my feet into my boots for the short walk downtown.

It’s a scenic trip, and we make most of it in companionable silence as we breathe in the crisp, winter air. We pass thick groves of evergreens that are dusted with powdery snow. The sidewalks are clear, but mounds of gray slush are piled to the sides. I jam my hands in my pockets and breathe out a puff of visible air to watch it float away.

“Today’s the day you find out about the grant money, right?” Lauren asks as the evergreens give way to a sharp downhill slope into downtown Heartsong. The streetlights are still lit this early in the morning, and their reflections wobble on the surface of Lake Willowcrest. Red and pink bows adorn the streetlamps, signaling the upcoming holiday. Soft scraping fills the air from shop owners sweeping snow off their thresholds as they prepare to open for the day.

I take in another deep breath, straightening up and flashing her a sly smile. “Sure is.”

“You don’t look very worried,” she remarks as we approach the front door of Sugar on Top, where we always stop for our morning coffee.

I shrug as she pulls the door open and motions me inside. “Nothing I can do about it now, either way. But it seems like a no-brainer to me. We want to attract more people downtown, so the downtown needs to be more attractive. Roads just aren’t sexy, and we all know the council loves a sexy proposal.”

The bakery is cozy, decorated with amber accents that add to the warmth emitted by the constantly running espresso machine and the ovens in the back. Little heart doilies sit on top of each table, giving the shop a festive air. While Dorothy is a formally trained chef, and thus our go-to caterer for the fundraiser, her daily focus is coffee and pastries to keep the town’s blood pressure at an ideal elevation.

Lauren chuckles. “Especially Councilman Roberts. I have a feeling that new toupée is his way of impressing Joanne.”

I wrack my brain for a second. “Joanne… the instructor for the senior yoga classes?”

She hums in agreement. “I took my gran to class last week, and he was there with that hair all puffed up like a pigeon.”

With a predictability that warms my heart, Dorothy already has our coffee ready on the to-go counter. I take the two cups waiting for us and sniff one, scrunching my nose in disgust. I hand Lauren her black coffee. “A pigeon?”

One side of Lauren’s mouth twists up into a wry grin as she takes the cup from my hand. “Yeah. They get all ruffled and puffy when they’re trying to attract a mate.” She demonstrates by pushing her chest out and moving her shoulders back and forth.

“What is going on here?” Dorothy waves a hand in our direction.

I take a sip of my half-caff macchiato with almond milk, one pump of sugar-free vanilla, and a sprinkle of cinnamon and moan in delight.

Lauren waggles her eyebrows. “We were just discussing Councilman Roberts’ new do,” she tells her as I lick the lingering foam off my upper lip.

Dorothy rolls her eyes with a huff. “It’s an embarrassment, is what it is. I hope a breeze catches it and blows it out to the lake.”

I cackle. “Dorothy Shelley, that’s not very nice.”

“Neither is his hair,” she counters. “Just the coffee today, girls?”

Lauren nods, but I lean over to check the pastry case. As I had hoped, cinnamon rolls line the front of it. “Can I get a cinnamon roll, too, please?”

Dorothy punches that into the register. “What are we celebrating?”

“I’m preemptively celebrating my win with the City Council.” I hand her my card with a grin, which quickly falls. “And Harrison ate all the cereal.”

I can feel Lauren eyeing me as she says, “How long is he staying, do you think?”

“No idea.” I sigh as Dorothy hands my card back to me. “I don’t want to push it though, you know? He never needs anything, and then he shows up out of the blue? It’s weird.”

“I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it when he’s ready,” Dorothy reassures me. Lauren and I both nod in agreement as Juan steps up to Dorothy’s side and reaches his tongs into the pastry case to grab my cinnamon roll.

“You want this warmed up, Miss Cora?” he asks as he extracts one from the middle.

“Oh, no thanks, Juan. I have to get to the office.”

“You sure?” He waves the roll enticingly and winks. “They’re so much better warm.”

“I promise I’ll warm it up when I get there,” I say, though he and I and this entire shop all know I won’t. I’ll shove it into my mouth in three giant bites. But it’ll still be delicious.

“Okay,” he says as if it’s not and deposits the roll into a paper bag. He hands it over to me as Lauren stashes a giant tip in the tip jar and we turn to leave.

Or, at least we try to leave. Just as I’m bracing to re-enter the frigid outside world, we are, instead, stopped by the broad shoulders and skinny jeans—sorry, slacks—of none other than Mayor Adam Sullivan.