Page 36 of When We Were Young

“Go. Have a seat. I’ll bring you some in a few.” Ella's tone leaves no room for arguing as she shoos me away with her hand.

Perhaps the five pots of coffee I’ve wasted trying to mimic her perfection are frustrating her.

Ella turns her attention to the coffee pot, grabs the carafe, and dumps the unpalatable liquid into the sink.

I watch her for a few seconds, sure there must be a step I’m missing in the process when I try. But realizing it’s hopeless, my shoulders sag, and I amble over to the booth where my bag is.

I plop down onto the cracked vinyl seat, careful not to let it pinch the backs of my thighs.

I glance around my favorite bakery and coffee shop.

I will say, Ella is nothing if not bold. The bright green fabric on the seats is hideous to look at, and the clashing wallpaper, with its weird orange pattern, is overwhelming to the eye if stared at for more than a few seconds. Still, I come here every morning unless I’m out of town.

Without fail.

Seven a.m. on the dot, I’m at the door waiting for Ella to open. I sit in the same booth every time I come. Well, unless I’m a few minutes late and one of my brothers is here and screws with me by taking my seat. Usually, that’s just Harrison.

Truthfully, I’ve got good brothers. Probably because we had the greatest dad raise us. He was the best man I’ve ever known and probably ever will. Our family has been through a lot, and I credit Henry and Harrison—the oldest two—with getting us all through it.

I shake my head to push the thoughts from my mind and glance up right as Ella places two steaming cups of coffee on the Formica tabletop.

I practically salivate when she takes two small plates, each covered with a scrumptious-looking pecan roll—her specialty—off the tray she’s carrying and slides one to me and one in front of her seat. The enticing aroma of the sweet treat makes me feel warm inside.

I swear, Ella makes these just for me. She complains loudly about how difficult they are to make, but I see the smile in her eyes when she brings them out.

Ella sits across from me and grins. You’d think a woman her age would be beyond flirting with a man forty-plus years her junior. But not Ella. She’s as big a flirt as they come.

I expect some crude remark delivered with a coy grin. Instead, when I glance up at her, the hint of a smile and the faint lines at the corners of her eyes soften her expression.

I know she’s fond of me, and we’ve had heart-to-hearts before, so I can tell that’s what’s coming. I need to head her off, so I scramble for something to say.

“Do you think this place is going to stay a bakery?”

I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic mug while I wait for her answer.

That Ella is selling the bakery and moving to Florida is something I’ve mostly avoided thinking about, but now the day is almost here.

“I would imagine. The young lady who bought it has plans for both shops, and all the equipment came with the building as part of the sale. So yes, I think so. In fact, she had an established bakery in Elladine.”

That’s odd. Elladine is only one town over from Aron Falls.

“Oh, hmm. Why would she buy this one when Elladine isn’t that far away? Why start all over?”

“I don’t know, and I’m not one to get into other people’s business, but⁠—”

I can’t help it when a burst of laughter erupts from me.

Ella glares at me, but there’s no true anger behind it.

“I’m sorry, but Els, come on. You live for getting into other people’s life drama.”

I smile at her, knowing it always settles her down a little.

Ella lifts her hand to scratch her forehead but makes a point of flipping me off, and I chuckle.

“Anyway, you brat. What I was saying was that maybe she’s looking for a change. To reinvent herself... her life.” Her eyes home in on mine now.

“Sometimes a fresh start and a second chance to remake yourself is all someone needs.”