by Kay Lyons
Lattes and Lullabyes
Seaside Sisters Series
Kay Lyons
Kindred Spirits Publishing
LATTES AND LULLABYES Copyright © 2020 by Kay Lyons
Cover Art: Copyright © 2020 @ Wavebreakmedia
978-1-946863-78-2
978-1-946863-82-9
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
About the Author
FAQ
Chapter 1
"Hello there, young lady. It’s good to see you," a man said as he crossed over the threshold into London’s Lattes.
London Cohen smiled and greeted the older gentleman. "Hey, Dally! Where have you been hiding yourself?"
"Oh, you know how it is. Staying busy. Thought I'd come gaze at your pretty mug before going to see what's biting at the pier."
"Aww, I’m glad you stopped in. You want your usual?"
The older man nodded his gray head and London tried as she always did to pinpoint his age. She'd guess him to be in his sixties, though to look at him, seventy wouldn't be a stretch. Still, she couldn't help but think the deep lines and wrinkles were more from a life hard lived than the Carolina sun.
"It amazes me how you remember. Haven't been able to make it in for a while."
"Ah, but trying to remember my customers' orders helps keep me sharp," she said, tapping a finger to her temple before setting to work on his large decaf coffee with half-and-half and two sugars.
"Saw on the internet where you were honored for serving food and coffee to the emergency aid workers after the storm."
She'd never get used to people calling a hurricane a simple "storm," but she supposed as a coastal native, Dally had earned his salt-life credentials. "I was happy to do it. It was a nice evening.”
Last September, the monster Cat 5 hurricane had been downgraded to a Cat 1 before hitting the Wilmington, North Carolina, area, but it had still caused extensive damage to homes and businesses. Roofs were blown off, trees downed, roads blocked, flooding. But farther inland, the damage had been far worse with record-setting floods due to the rain that just kept coming.
The moment she'd been able to open her doors, she'd brewed as much coffee as the power crews, emergency services, police, and recovery volunteers could drink. Post-hurricane clean-up was a community event that included coffee and encouragement. The recognition BBQ had been nice, but nine months after last year's hurricane meant watching the spaghetti models and Atlantic again, the other definition of salt-life living.
A shadow formed on the other side of her door just as she set Dally's cup of brew in front of him, and she cocked her head to get a better glimpse of her next customer. Instead of growing in size, however, the shadow shrank as a golden retriever appeared.
The large dog hesitated on the threshold before entering with a familiar tongue-hanging tilt of his beautiful head as he stared at them. "Rocco? Is that you?"
Dally swiveled on the barstool to face the door.
The golden's entire body wriggled with every tail wag as London quickly made her way around the counter, meeting Rocco halfway, where he'd stopped to survey the nearly empty coffee shop and her dachshund Rosie's empty bed. "Oh, Rocco, it is you," she said after a quick glance at his collar. "Hey, buddy. Where have you been? I've missed you."
London knelt on her cleaned and polished floor and lavished the animal with rubs and pets and even a few kisses, all the while hoping that maybe this time she could meet Rocco's owner. Whoever owned the precious dog had to know what a joy the well-behaved canine was.
Rocco had appeared out of the blue in May, alone and seemingly worn out. He'd visited a few times for a period of about a week, but even though both London and her sister Ireland had called the number on Rocco's collar, the owner hadn't returned the calls. Rocco appeared, curled up beside Rosie, and slept, then got up and left once nap time was over, enjoying a few head pats and good boy praises on his way out the door.
Then, Rocco had simply stopped visiting. "Don't worry. Your girlfriend is—" Rosie's collar bell jingled as the little dog made her way out of her den behind the counter and quickly ran to greet their visitor. "See? She's missed you, too."
"Don't forget me," Dally said from behind them, drawing Rocco's attention. "C'mere, boy."
The dog hurried over to Dally and rubbed himself against the man's legs. Dally lavished the dog with attention, looking a bit misty-eyed for a moment.
"Hey, there, Rocco. How you doing, buddy?"
"Dally," London said, frowning at the man's thickened voice. "You okay?"
"Ah, fine. Just fine. Today's been full of good news is all."
"Oh? Wanna share? I could always use some good news."
Dally smiled down in Rocco's sweet face. "Well, Rocco's back… and my son's in town."
"That's wonderful! So you've talked? Things between you are okay now?"
Baristas and bartenders had a few things in common, one being that people had a tendency to pull up a stool and talk when things were slow. Or the customers felt low.
Dally was one of those people. He'd stopped in for coffee one day and lingered, sharing just enough information for London to know all was not right with his world when it came to his family.
"No, no. Nothing as good as that. But I like knowing Scout's close by, even if I don't get to talk to him."
"Hey, you never know. Maybe it's the first step and you'll reconnect soon."
Rocco and Rosie greeted each other, but then the larger dog looked around the interior of the nearly empty business before giving her a slow, brown-eyed blink. "Don't gimme that look," she stated defensively. "You haven't been here to look all cute with Rosie for everyone to post on social media. Rocco and Rosie were quite the attraction," she said to Dally, shoving herself to her feet and returning to the counter where Dally sat. "You wouldn't believe how many people have stopped in hoping to see the two of them together because they'd seen them online. They were four-legged celebrities."
"They are a pretty sight."
Dally sipped his coffee and he and London both watched the dogs as Rocco followed Rosie to the dog bed across the room.
"Hmm, maybe this time I shouldn't call your owner so you'll be able to come back."
"Uh-oh. Better make a run for it while you can, Dally," London's sister Frankie said as she entered the coffee shop. "Especially if London's talking about locking up customers to keep them here."
The older man chuckled and shook his head at them. "You girls make me laugh every time I come in here."
"Tough job, but we try. How have you been, Dally?"
London listened to the exchange betw
een the two while taking in Frankie's military-issue shorts and camouflage tank top. How could anyone could wear such an ugly color of green and still look feminine? Somehow Frankie pulled it off though. Her twin was the most rough-and-tumble of them all, but London knew her sister hid a soft side beneath the tough shell. The scars Frankie carried visibly were nothing compared to the pain and damage they represented.
"I'm good. Can't look at those two and not feel good." The man pointed a finger toward the animals.
Frankie moved deeper into the interior. "They are pretty cute together. Rocco's people must be visiting again."
London crossed her arms over her front and sighed. "I really don't want to call again, but I guess I have to, don't I?"
"Maybe not. If the timing is right, I can follow him home and see where he lives," Frankie said.
"That's a good idea. I am really curious. You want some coffee?"
"Oh, yeah. Strong and black."
"This late in the afternoon? You know my thoughts on that."
Frankie leaned against the counter beside Dally, nudging the older man with an elbow. "Londy here believes only uptight, type-A personalities drink black coffee."
"Is that true?" Dally asked, amusement lighting his tired, darkly shadowed eyes.
Frankie grinned and winked at the man.
"You got a big project you're working on?" Dally asked.
"Several, but not today. Just playing catch-up. I need to put in some hours at the shop and make sure the monkeys didn't get too crazy while I was away. Today was my volunteer day."
The reminder explained Frankie's freshly washed and still damp hair. Frankie was hands on and didn't mind getting dirty, so she'd often wound up far from the hurricane relief setups handing out bottled water or helping with paperwork, instead jumping in the trenches mucking out water-logged homes. With so much damage, homes were still being repaired as a new hurricane season kicked into gear. "What was it today? More demo?"
Frankie shrugged like it was no big deal that she voluntarily donned protective clothing and breathing masks to go in and clean out dangerous mold for total strangers.
"Yeah. The vultures are really circling, trying to buy up houses for nothing because of the damage and the financial strain families are feeling having to pay a mortgage on a house they can't live in while trying to pay rent somewhere else to keep a roof over their heads and deal with insurance companies, some of which are really shady. It amazes me how disaster brings out the best in some but the worst in others."
London paused long enough to shoot Frankie a look of pride and genuine love. Her sister had followed in their father's footsteps and enlisted at eighteen, served her country for ten years, then got out a year ago after being injured when the convoy she was traveling in struck an IED. Though the scars weren't visible unless Frankie donned a two-piece, the damage had been severe, though mostly internal. Once she'd recovered, Frankie had settled in Carolina Cove in time to assist with hurricane recovery and put her mechanics training and experience to use by buying out a tow and repair shop that hired vets like her.
"What?" Frankie looked from London to Dally. "Why is she looking at me like that?"
Dally shook his head at her and took another sip before saying, "Girl, you oughta recognize love when you see it."
"What he said," London said simply.
Frankie, the sister most uncomfortable with her emotions, rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, whatever."
"Hey, face it. You're a pretty cool person to have as a twin. I appreciate the fact you've never been boring. That's all."
"O-kay." Frankie raised a dark and well-groomed eyebrow.
Of the five sisters, Frankie's hair was the darkest, a deep, chocolate brown that made her blue eyes stand out even more. London's hair was a lighter brown, while Carolina’s, Holland’s, and Ireland's ranged from sandy, brownish-blond to auburn.
"So what about you?" Frankie asked Dally. "You feeling okay today?"
"I'm good."
London busied herself with fetching Frankie's coffee.
"You sure? You're looking a little pale considering all of that sun out there."
"Ah, I'm fine, hon. Just some old issues catching up with me."
"Well, if there's anything we can do to help, say the word."
"Absolutely," London said, handing over the oversized cup. "You're part of our family now and don't you forget it."
Dally frowned and became misty-eyed once more.
"Ah, you girls. You don't know what that means to me. I hope one day my son finds a sweet girl like one of you."
Frankie winked at London and straightened on the stool, a teasing, ornery expression falling into place.
"Oh, yeah? Which one?"
Chapter 2
Cooper Bale stared at the blinking cursor with gritty eyes. One of the twins let loose an ear-splitting scream in the living room, and the sound shredded his nerve endings. His almost-four-year-old niece and nephew were in rare form today after a restless night, which had left their recently hired nanny, Michelle, juggling the twins like a circus performer.
He leaned back in his office chair and pressed his palms to his eyes, attempting to rub the grittiness away. He'd gotten up with the twins last night as well, but short of turning whichever twin he held away from him so they focused on Michelle, he hadn't been much help in the kid-soothing department. He believed when they looked at him they saw him as the man who took them away from their mother and grandmother, even though he knew at their age that kind of thinking was unlikely.
The crying stopped and he listened to the soft tones of Michelle singing to them, trying to get them to join her. He scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to focus again, but the sound of footsteps approaching his office door left him muttering under his breath. A soft knock sounded. "Come in."
"Hey," Michelle said, Bella on her hip. "Sorry to interrupt but I needed to separate them and… I thought you might be able to use this." She carried a large steaming mug toward him and set it on his desk by his arm.
"Thanks."
"My pleasure." Releasing the cup, she moved her hand to his wrist and gently squeezed. "I know your deadline is looming, but you can do this. No worries."
Cooper stared at the polished fingers lingering on his wrist and sucked in a breath. Uh… surely he was misreading things? He was eleven years her senior and her boss. But Michelle had been finding excuses to touch him more and more, brushing against him as she walked by, grasping his hand or arm as she spoke to him or transferred one of the twins to him to carry. She couldn't think there was a chance he'd—
His cell phone buzzed and he used the opportunity to extract himself. No doubt it was his client requesting an update. Again. As he shifted away from her in the office chair, his hand settled on the device and he swiped to answer without looking at the number. "Bale."
"Um, hello? Is this Rocco's family?"
"Yes. Yes, hang on a second, please." To Michelle, he said, "I have to take this. Shut the door on your way out?"
The beautiful nanny pinned a smile to her lips and shook her head.
"Of course. Let me know when you need a refill."
Michelle carried his niece out of the office, but there was no way to mistake the look she gave him as she locked gazes before slowly shutting the door behind them.
Cooper closed his eyes and sat back in his office chair. First the twins acting out, Michelle being…friendly, and now his dog? At this rate he'd never meet his deadline. "Sorry. I'm here. Rocco's escaped again?"
"I'm afraid so. He hasn't been a bother, but he's here, at London's Lattes on Third, and I, uh, close in about an hour."
"I'll come get him."
"Thank you. And just so you know, I don't mind his visits. Truly. He's such a good dog. He's been here before. I, um, called then, too?"
He closed his eyes with a grimace. That trip. His mother had wanted to see the ocean one last time before she passed, see where the twins would be living, growing up�
�� Just before they were to leave Charlotte to travel to Carolina Cove, his girlfriend had given him the ultimatum of choosing between her and the life they'd planned—or adopting the twins because they had no one else capable of giving them the life a child deserves. A compromise didn't seem to be possible, so she'd walked—run—away as fast as she could. "Yeah. Sorry about not getting back with you. I was here for… Well, things were a little hectic."
"Oh, no problem. I just worry about Rocco being picked up by Animal Control or hit by a car making his way home."
"Yeah, me, too. I'm not sure how he's getting out of the yard, but I'll take another look at the fence. Give me ten minutes to come get him."
In the background, one of the twins took the crying to a whole other level. Bedtime could not come soon enough, and no doubt Michelle could use a little privacy and quiet time herself. Maybe that was why she kept seeking him out? Was it her way of asking for help? For him to step up more than he had? But that was why he'd hired her. To take care them so he could work and keep a roof over their heads. "Maybe fifteen," he said since there was no disguising the noise in the background. "Did you say coffee shop?"
Michelle had come highly recommended by friends of friends of friends who'd said she worked for an agency overseas for four years before deciding to return to the States. He'd considered himself lucky to snag her on such short notice, especially since she'd already stuck through the hard transitions of his mother dying and girlfriend leaving.
"Yes. London's Lattes." The woman gave him the exact address and Cooper eyed his laptop and then the clock on the wall. "Don't let Rocco leave. I'm only a block away. I'll be there as soon as I can."
Cooper pressed the button to end the call and gathered up his things. The woman said she closed in about an hour, but he could get a lot done in that amount of uninterrupted time.
