How (Not) to Fall in Love

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  I yanked my camera from the bag slung across my shoulder. “Where should I start?”

  “Start here. I’m going to find Pam and Dee. After you finish the kitchen, we need photos of the entry hall, the great room, and wine cellar. Just poke around. You’ll find them.”

  She was gone before I could form an apology. I supposed if I couldn’t say I was sorry, at least I could take the photos. I looked around the room and started snapping. Zoomed in on one of the stoves. Panned out wide to show all three. Knelt down to shoot the window from my knees. The sun shone in like a sign from God.

  After the kitchen was photographed more times than a movie star, I went in search of the great room. I tiptoed through the butler’s pantry, stopping when I heard voices.

  “Isn’t she pathetic?” I recognized Pam’s voice.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Pam. That’s a bit harsh.” That was Dee, mom of Ryan.

  “She’s not half bad as a potential realtor,” Pam said. “But there is no way she’ll be able to earn enough to stay in their house. Or deal with all the debt. I heard from a very reliable source that Ty’s company is in real trouble.” She laughed. “And that odd little daughter. She could be halfway attractive if she put some effort into it, though she definitely didn’t get her parents’ looks, poor thing. But she just slinks around, not even making eye contact with anyone.”

  “Ryan told me about the day her car got repossessed,” Dee said. “Poor girl. From the school parking lot, can you imagine? I feel sorry for them. They’ve had their world turned upside down, Pam.”

  I hardly dared to breathe. Sweat freckled my arms and neck. God, Pam was a bitch. Just like her daughter.

  Pam’s voice echoed off the stone walls. “Ty must have already paid this year’s tuition or else I’m sure Marilyn would have had to put Darcy in public school. I don’t know how long she can keep up this charade.” Pam pronounced the word: “sha rahd” like a Brit. I wanted to kick her in the teeth.

  “Well, thank goodness for Darcy that she doesn’t have to switch schools right now, with everything else going on,” Dee said.

  “True,” Pam said. “I’m sure it’s a comfort to have friends like my Chloe.”

  My hands shook. I gripped the camera as if it could transport me to another world. I couldn’t listen anymore. I shoved the camera into my bag and texted Mom, my hands trembling. “Gotta go. C u @ home.” I retraced my steps back to the stupid King Arthur entry hall and slipped out the front door.

  My truck had never looked so good. I jumped in and threw it into reverse, squashing a row of innocent fall mums as I backed down the driveway.

  Before I knew it, I was on the highway headed for the cabin. Eventually the truck bounced down the rutted road that led to Camp Covington. As I turned off the engine, I noticed the for sale sign tied to the deck railing. Wow. Mom worked fast. I squeezed my eyes shut, resting my head against the steering wheel. Inhale. Exhale.

  My phone pinged with a text. “R u ok? Where r u?” Mom. I sighed. I’d ignored my phone the entire drive but that hadn’t stopped her from blowing up my phone with texts and voicemails.

  I jumped out of the truck and headed down the trail to our Stonehenge. The aspen trees were a symphony of yellow and orange leaves shimmering in the fall breeze, surrounding our small henge. I stood at the edge of the circle for a long time, just breathing. I took a picture of the henge with my cell.

  Then I reared back and kicked the tallest stone. It was like knocking over the first domino in a long chain. It only took a few seconds for our henge to collapse in on itself. As I stared at the destroyed henge, it was my turn to collapse, sinking next to the fallen stones, sobs overtaking my body.

  It was dark when I arrived at Tin Lizzy’s because I’d sat crying in front of the destroyed henge for a long time. Eventually I’d stumbled down the trail to my truck and texted Mom to tell her I was okay, but I’d be home late.

  I parked the truck across the street and slid out of the cab to the sidewalk, where the cozy glow from the coffee shop drew me inside.

  Jazz music hummed under the gurgle of the espresso machine. Charlie and Liz both played KJAZ, the local public jazz station, in their stores. The place had been empty during my afternoon visit, but now three girls about my age huddled around a board game, laughing and hugging coffee mugs to their chests. An older couple sat on a sagging couch next to a bookshelf, reading quietly and sharing a single mug of something hot and spicy-smelling. A circle of women sat around a table covered with baskets of yarn, knitting needles clacking. It was nothing like the frenetic Starbucks attached to Barnes & Noble.

  I loved it.

  A flutter rose in my stomach. Was I crazy to be here? Could I possibly work here and not totally mess it up? I could never work for Fake-Bake Pam, because it hurt too much knowing what she thought of my mom, and me. And working close to my uncle, in Liz’s cozy shop, was a job I wanted, not one being forced on me.

  I heard Liz’s tinkling laugh before she emerged through a curtained area behind the barista counter with a cell phone pressed to her ear. She scanned the store quickly and her eyes lit up when she saw me. She murmured a quick good-bye into her phone.

  “Darcy! I’m so happy to see you.” A few of the customers glanced our way, and then turned back to their activities. “Did you come back for that croissant?”

  The open warmth of her smile felt like a hug. I took a deep breath and approached the counter. “Actually, I decided to apply for the job.”

  She nodded as she dried a coffee cup with a dish towel. “I’ve had a couple of people apply,” she said, “but I’m still taking applications.”

  I had competition? Uh-oh.

  She tilted her head and examined me thoroughly. I blushed under her appraising gaze. “Let’s talk. But first you need something to warm you up. What’s your favorite drink? And remember, none of those foo-foo Starbucks concoctions.” She grinned.

  “Uh…okay.” I hesitated. “Tea,” I said weakly. “Something with cinnamon, if you have it.”

  “Of course I have cinnamon tea.” She handed me an enormous mug of steaming water and gestured to three brass racks overflowing with tea boxes. “Take your pick. Sugar and cream are on the counter against the far wall.”

  I stirred sugar into my tea and then followed Liz behind the barista bar, then through shimmering gold curtains to a hidden part of her shop. “Come sit down,” she commanded.

  Instead, I stopped with a gasp on the threshold. We had entered Fairyland.

  Strings of firefly lights lit the tiny room. Two deep chairs nestled in a corner, a small table between them, overflowing with books and magazines. The scent of incense and the sound of jazz came from somewhere. The walls, painted deep lavender, were covered with vintage French ads and 1980s celebrity posters. The juxtaposition made me smile.

  “It’s perfect,” I whispered.

  “Thank you,” Liz said. She sat in one of the cozy chairs and gestured for me to take the other. I did, and glimpsed a small closed-circuit monitor mounted unobtrusively in a corner, showing the café and its patrons.

  Liz followed my gaze. “Lucas hooked it up for me. Every time a customer walks in the door, there’s a bright blue glow on the screen, then it goes back to normal. I prefer that to that horrible Halloween noise when you open Charlie’s door.”

  I laughed. “I can see why. This is great. If I were you, I’d never want to leave.”

  “Most days I feel the same way,” Liz agreed. “It’s taken me a long way to get the life I wanted. But I finally made it.” She sipped from her pink cat mug and locked eyes with me. “Your dad might even say I reaped my harvest.”

  I flinched. I’d managed to forget about Dad since I’d arrived here. Liz bringing him up felt wrong.

  She didn’t miss my reaction. “Your dad’s ideas have helped many people, Darcy. I can’t speak to what he’s doing right now, but there was a dark time in my life when his words were a guiding light. I wo
uldn’t have this shop if it weren’t for him.”

  I stared at her, shocked.

  “Oh, I never met him personally. Your uncle Charlie gave me a set of his CDs several years ago. At first I thought Charlie was trying to get me to join a cult.” She laughed and tossed her long braid over her shoulder. “But because I was falling madly in love with Charlie, I agreed to listen to a CD before I’d pass judgment.”

  Charlie gave Liz the Harvest CDs? Did Charlie believe my dad’s stuff, too? I thought of all the times I’d heard Dad rag on Charlie’s lifestyle, of how I grew up not knowing my uncle at all. My internal stress ball threatened to explode.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Damn it, I didn’t want to feel angry again. Coming to Liz’s was like finding an oasis in the desert. I didn’t want it muddled up with my dad, and I didn’t want even more reasons to be mad at him. I took a deep breath.

  Liz squeezed my knee and I opened my eyes. “Let’s not talk about that,” she said. “We have more important things to discuss, like if you want to do a trial run tonight. We need to see if you can handle my Italian baby out there. Bella is temperamental, beautiful, and a real handful. But she makes the most amazing espressos in town.”

  All thoughts of my father fled. A temperamental Italian espresso machine that had probably cost Liz thousands of dollars? “Um…maybe I could just be the tea maker?”

  Liz threw back her head and laughed a deep, throaty laugh that came right from her gut. “Oh honey. If you’re the only person working here, what do we tell our coffee customers? No. You’ll learn how to rule Bella. She’s difficult but not impossible.” She grinned. “Kinda like me.”

  I took a deep breath and stared at the giraffe painted on my mug. My dad’s words floated to mind, unbidden. “Try one new thing. Plant one new seed.”

  “I have to warn you, I’m not mechanically inclined. I can barely make toast.” So much for selling myself.

  Liz laughed again and set down her teacup. “Neither was I. When I decided I wanted my own coffee shop, my biggest worry was how the heck to make a cappuccino.”

  “Really?”

  Her glittering eyes held mine. “Really. I spent weeks visiting coffee shops all over town. I’d order something and sit down and lurk. I watched those baristas work their magic. And I realized something.”

  “What?”

  “That anyone could do it. Kids younger than you, folks old enough to retire. I watched people who turned out perfect drinks one after the other while barely looking at the machine and serious artists who never took their eyes off the gauges.” Liz reached behind her chair and pulled out a tin of butter cookies. She pried off the lid and held it out to me. “These are my weakness. Especially with tea. Take one.”

  I dipped the cookie into my tea while she watched approvingly.

  “It’s like dancing,” she said. “Once you know the steps, you bring your own style to it. And the most important thing I learned?”

  I waited, paying more attention to her than my cookie. My dad was going to have to pay for my liposuction when he got home.

  “Each cup got easier. Each time I messed up a latte, I was that much closer to making a perfect one. You only become an expert at something by failing millions of times along the way. I wanted to master Bella the beast, so I did.” She paused to chew her cookie. “What have you mastered?” she asked suddenly.

  “Me?” The question startled me. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? There’s nothing you do well, maybe something you do every day so you don’t even think about it?”

  I thought for a few moments. Did running count? “I do run. A lot.”

  “There you go. And I bet you didn’t start out running five miles at a stretch, did you?”

  No, I definitely hadn’t. I’d started by just running with Toby as a puppy, the two of us romping in the park, then trotting along the canal trail haphazardly. But somewhere along the way, it turned into something I was really good at. I made goals and met them every week, every month. I entered local 5k and 10k races that Dad never knew about, so he wasn’t waiting at the finish line expecting me to win. But I charted my progress and bettered my time each time I competed. Only I did it for me. Not for my school. Not for my dad. Just for me.

  “Maybe I can do this,” I said, more to myself than to Liz.

  “Of course you can. Especially with our secret weapon.” Her smile deepened.

  “Secret weapon?”

  “Lucas. He figured that baby out in five minutes. Every time she acts up or throws a tantrum, he’s the one who fixes her. We have a deal—free drinks as long as I can keep him on speed dial for emergency repairs.”

  Magic Hands on speed dial? Oh God. How would I ever concentrate enough to learn to make an espresso?

  As if on cue, the tiny TV screen glowed blue, then faded back to black and white, showing Lucas headed for the counter. The girls around the board game stopped chattering and watched him, elbowing each other and giggling.

  “Hi, Lucas,” one of them sing-songed, her voice tinny through the small TV’s speaker.

  He turned and shot them his sexy grin. “Hey,” he said. “Who’s winning?”

  There was snorting and laughing and something that sounded like, “Whoever you want to.”

  Liz pushed herself out of the deep chair, shaking her head. “That poor boy. Girls follow him like rats and the Pied Piper.”

  At the curtain, she glanced back and shot me a devilish look. “Come out after you catch your breath. I know he tends to take it away.”

  She left me staring openmouthed. Maybe I should just hide out until Lucas went back to Charlie’s store. Or maybe I should just sneak out the back door to the alley and make my escape. If Liz had other applicants for this job, did I even stand a chance?

  God, I wanted this job. But I was terrified I’d screw it up, if I were lucky enough to get it.

  The TV screen flickered blue again. A frazzled-looking mom had come in with a bouncing child begging for a brownie.

  Lucas had disappeared from the screen. Whew. He must have gone back to Charlie’s store. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.

  “You can do it,” I whispered. “Even McDonald’s sells espresso now.”

  “Hey, Darcy,” said a familiar, sexy voice.

  I jumped, sloshing tea out of my cup and onto my shirt. My face flushed.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Lucas pushed the curtains aside and walked toward me, a steaming to-go cup in his hand. “Do you need a towel?” He glanced at my chest. My wet chest.

  “No, no. It’s fine.” I grabbed a napkin and dabbed uselessly at my shirt. At least it was a small stain so I didn’t look like I was competing in a wet T-shirt contest, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to disappear.

  He sank into Liz’s chair and grinned. “Were you talking to yourself?”

  I leaned back in the chair. If I hoped to get a job where I’d be seeing this guy all the time, I’d better practice my coping skills. “No, I was talking to my friend about applying to work here.” I tilted my head toward a David Bowie poster on the far wall. “He comes with me everywhere. But most people can’t hear him.” I lowered my voice. “Can you?”

  Lucas burst into laughter. “I’ve met the other job applicants,” he said. “They didn’t talk to imaginary friends.”

  I returned his arch smile. “Then maybe I have an advantage.”

  Lucas’s smile widened to a grin. “You might. Then again, it might depend on Bowie’s conversational skills. That’s an important part of the job.”

  I looked at the floor. I might be able to joke around in Fairyland, but Lucas was right. Conversation was an important part of the job. And strangers made me sweat.

  “Are you worried about that?” Lucas asked. “The talking to customers part?”

  “Yeah.” I peeked at him from under my lashes, which weren’t half as long as his. “That and the monstrous Bella. I don’t think I c
an handle her.” I glanced at the TV screen, where Liz stood at the espresso machine, working like a maestro.

  He grinned and stretched out his long legs. “You can handle Bella. Liz and I can teach you. It’s pretty cool to be able to make yourself any kind of coffee drink, instead of having to pay five bucks a pop.”

  “But I’m a total klutz.”

  He took a drink from his cup. “You should’ve seen Liz when she first got that machine. She was in here every day swearing at it. She’d get so mad, she’d tell Charlie she was going to close the store and give up. But we found some videos on YouTube that helped. And she called the guy who sold her the machine. She paid him to spend a day with her, making the same drinks over and over. Now she’s a pro.”

  Ugh. She hadn’t made it sound so grueling. “What about you?” I asked him. “How long did it take you to tame Bella?”

  He dipped his head. “Not as long as Liz.”

  “Uh-huh. You figured it out right away, didn’t you?” I accused, narrowing my eyes.

  He shrugged and took another long drink, but when he lowered his cup his lips twitched like he was biting back a smile.

  “I’m not sure what to do.” I glanced at the TV screen again. Liz was talking and laughing with the reading couple. The girls had resumed their board game.

  Lucas frowned. “If you do take the job, Liz isn’t going to let you fail. She’ll be here to help you and train you. And I’m usually around, too, if the machine explodes or something.” He brushed back his hair and grinned.

  I stared into my mug. Liz’s shop was like nothing else in my life. Peaceful. Mellow. Fun. When I was here I forgot about all the other crap. Plus my uncle worked just a few doors down and I really wanted to get to know him better.

  And Magic Hands would be on speed-dial.

  “You’re probably right.” I took a deep breath and stood up. “Time for my trial run.”

  Lucas stood up, too. “I need to go. I’ve got a lot of homework.”

  “Where do you go to school?” I asked. He seemed older than the guys at Woodbridge.