by C. L. Ryder
“Are there any customers inside?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Come on, let’s go in. What happened?”
Bethany made them both a cup of coffee as Jackson recounted what had happened just an hour before, and by the end she felt numb. That person had been coming in to their shop, eating their food and enjoying their hospitality? She could hardly believe it. It just didn’t seem real. The Standard was a Northern California based company too; what was the CEO doing down here?
She passed him the cup of coffee. “What did they want?” she asked. “Why did they wait so long to tell you who they were?”
“I don’t know, but from the first day that they showed, they’d been wanting meet you. She told me she had some kind of business offer to make.”
Bethany frowned.
“I think she’s just trying to use us,” Jackson continued. “She seemed to genuinely enjoy the sandwiches. I have a feeling she thinks she can take advantage of a vulnerable family business, get them to sign some contract and then profit off them. That’s how these corporate fucks work. She’s probably done it before.” He banged the counter so hard that the cups seemed to bounce a foot in the air. “Fuck! It makes me so angry.”
Bethany felt troubled. This wasn’t adding up. Then, she thought back to the conversation she’d had with Jane the night before. Her heart was pounding so hard that she decided it’d be better not to drink the coffee.
It’s just a coincidence.
There are dozens, no, hundred of restaurants across San Diego that could be hers.
She wished she could remember what the name of The Standard’s CEO was. She’d read those interviews, but had purposely avoided committing their name to memory. She could’ve sworn the CEO was a man. Kyle, or Lyle, or something.
It was just a coincidence.
“I told her to never come back,” Jackson said. “I’m sure she’ll be back though. She left her card. I was going to tear it up, but… I thought maybe you’d want to see it.”
Jackson pulled out a crumpled white business card from his pocket and set it onto the counter. Bethany picked it up and slowly unfolded it.
Fifteen
Jane Pumpkin
CEO and Founder – The Standard Coffee Co.
555-4526 [email protected]
Bethany’s mind whirled. No! she pleaded. It’s just a coincidence. It has to be! Jane is such a common name. It’s gotta be a coincidence. Please, please…
“Bethany? What’s wrong? God, you’ve gone all pale. Bethany.”
She held up her hand. “I-I need to sit down for a second.”
Images from their weekend together flashed through her mind. She saw Jane and her smile. She felt her touch and the soft press of her lips against her own. She could smell her delicious fragrance, as if she was right there with her. She felt that incredible well of happiness burning so brightly inside, surrounding every memory. That couldn’t be her…
“Jackson, the woman that I’ve been seeing…”
His eyes widened. “Oh god. You’re thinking… No, Bethany. Come on, that makes absolutely no sense. Why would you think that?”
“I spent the weekend at her house,” she said. “I made her agree that we’d keep as many details out of our relationship for now.”
“But you know her last name.”
“No… But I do know that she works in the restaurant industry. She’s not a tech mogul like we thought.”
“Okay, but that still doesn’t mean—”
“There was something that she told me last night. Business plans. She told me she was going to reach out to a rival company. One that was struggling because of her.”
“Oh my god,” Jackson whispered. “You really think she could be this Jane Pumpkin?”
“I don’t know,” she said weakly.
Jackson hesitantly pulled his cell phone. “We can find out right now,” he said. “I can Google her. Do you want me to?”
Bethany looked at him, and then shook her head. “No. She’ll be back. I’ll find out then.”
He touched her trembling hand. “You’ve really fallen for her, haven’t you?”
Bethany quickly brushed away a tear that was rolling down her cheek, and stared out the big front window of the café. Part of her expected to see some stranger walk up to the store at that very moment, and Jackson would point at say “it’s her.” She’d look and realize that she was wrong, and that Jane Pumpkin was not her Jane, and everything would be fine.
“Before Mom died, she told something, Jackson,” she said. “She told me… that when she was gone, she wanted me to shut down the café.”
Jackson looked at her, shocked. “Why?”
“She told me she wanted me to find a partner. She said that I hadn’t lived my life. She thought I was giving up my life for the shop. I didn’t understand her at all back then, I thought that the medication was messing with her mind or something. I understand now, though. I get it.”
Jackson took her hand. “Your mom was the most caring woman I’d ever known. She looked after me like I was her son. That’s why Marcos and I are so loyal to this place. You know that. She wanted what was best for you. Look, I want you to know that whatever happens, whatever you decide, I’m behind you. I’ll always be your friend.”
They hugged each other, and this time neither of them could hold back the tears that had been straining at the surface—but what had pushed them over the edge wasn’t from the shock of Jane Pumpkin, or from the reality that LeFlorette’s was seeing its final days… it was their memories of Callie LeFlorette, Bethany’s mother.
Sixteen
That evening, Lyle came to Jane’s office and found her there with her feet up on the desk, a rubber stress ball in her hand and her gaze lost in the distance. Lyle knocked once on the frame of the door, and Jane quickly kicked her legs down and sat up.
“Lyle,” she said, with a distracted smile. “What’s up?”
“How’d it go?” Lyle asked.
“Oh… they weren’t there.”
“Mm. Seems like the guy never works, huh?”
Jane laughed distantly.
“Everything cool?” Lyle came in and sat down in the leather chair that faced Jane’s desk.
“The owner is a woman, actually. And I kinda got ran out of the place,” Jane admitted.
“Figured you would. So, what now?”
“I’ll go back. Eventually.”
Lyle nodded. “Then maybe this decision was pre-mature, but fuck it, I don’t want to overthink things. I’m in.”
Jane looked at him, surprised. “That was fast.”
“Like I said, I didn’t want to overthink it. But, you know what? I hate to admit it, but you were right.”
“About what?”
“About everything. I need to stop being so complacent. Go for a real challenge. So, thank you, Jane. Thank you for believing in me.”
Jane smiled. “We wouldn’t be here sitting in this office if it weren’t you. You should’ve always been CFO.”
They stood and shook hands, and then embraced. “You’re like a sister to me, you know that?” He said. “And… I love you.”
Jane laughed. “Shut up, someone might hear.” She punched his shoulder. “I love you too, dude. And I feel the same way.”
“So. When this thing really happens, who’s gonna manage this place?”
“I don’t know,” Jane said. “Haven’t thought that far ahead, but I’m sure we’ll find someone.”
After Lyle went back downstairs to the shop, Jane sat in her office and started to draft some documents outlining her new plan for the company, including a general proposal for what she would offer LeFlorette’s Coffee Shop in return for use of their recipes. She felt it was a generous offer, and while it wouldn’t help them stay in business it would at least bestow more than fair royalties to the family, and include them as shareholders. It was a deal that Paul Whedon never would’ve made, but Jane was certain that it was not only
the right thing to do, it would also pay off big time in the long run.
She left the office in much better spirits. Productivity always had a way of putting things right, and things seemed like they might end up going her way after all. The ball had started to roll.
As Jane drove home, a nagging thought tugged at her. She looked at the clock—it was only five in the evening. She had time to do one last thing…
She turned the car around just as she’d reached her condo’s driveway, and headed back towards work. She passed by The Standard, and kept going until she reached the front of LeFlorette’s Coffee Shop. The lights were still on inside, and the OPEN sign hung plainly in the window. She could see some of the chairs flipped up onto the tables, and someone was making their rounds with a broom.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, got out of the car, and then hurried across the street.
It seemed to take all of her willpower just to push the front door open. She realized that her palms were sweating, and she wiped them on the sides of her slacks.
There was a woman hunched over, sweeping some dirt into a dustpan. Jane couldn’t see her face. The door shut behind her, jingling the bells hanging above the frame.
“Welcome,” the woman called, standing up. When she turned around, Jane’s heart nearly stopped.
Those blue eyes met hers, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Confusion swept over Jane as she tried to process this new piece of information. “Bethany?” she asked. “You…”
Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no, no.
Bethany stared back, and Jane only saw the briefest flicker of surprise behind those blue eyes before it faded away to blankness. “Jane,” she said. “Tell me you’re here because you wanted a coffee on the way home from work. Please.” It sounded like she was pleading with her.
Jane stood silently for a moment as the shattered pieces of her mind slowly came back together. “Bethany, I…”
“Is your full name Jane Pumpkin?”
“Bethany, I had no idea…”
“Is it?”
“…Yes.”
Bethany rubbed her face and went to the front counter. She dumped the contents of the dustpan into the trash, and then started to wipe down the wooden counter with a rag.
Jesus, how did this never occur to me? Jane thought. It all seems so obvious now. God, I’m a fucking idiot. So much for my fucking intuition.
It seemed like ages were ticking by as they stood in silence. Bethany continued to wipe circles on one spot of the counter. “Jackson told me you came by earlier,” she said, finally. “I didn’t want to believe it. I was praying for it, Jane. That you were another Jane and that it was just a big coincidence. But in the back of my mind, I somehow knew.”
The lump had returned to Jane’s throat, triple sized. With the way Bethany was wiping the counter, she thought it might burn a hole. She didn’t see how Bethany’s hands were shaking.
“I promise you, Bethany, that I didn’t know who you were. Not until the moment I stepped into that door just now.”
“I don’t know if that changes anything,” Bethany said, her voice low. “You’re still… Jane Pumpkin.”
The tone that was in Bethany’s voice as she said those words was like a jab to Jane’s heart. She felt helpless.
“Do you know what you’ve done here?” Bethany asked. “What your company has done?”
“I do,” Jane said. “And I’m trying to make things right.”
Bethany slammed her hand onto the counter. “Make things right?!” she yelled. “I had to fire all my employees. My business is going to close. How are you going to make things right?”
“Bethany…” Jane said softly. She moved towards her, her palms spread. “Please. Let me just explain. I want to protect what you have here. I can’t undo my company has done, but I can still help—”
“Yes, you can. You can leave. You can fucking leave. Take your company, and get out of my neighborhood.”
Jane flinched, but she kept walking slowly forward. “Please, Bethany. Please.”
“Get out of here, Jane. I never want to see you again.”
“Bethany…” An unfamiliar panic had replaced Jane’s always-confident calm. Any control had vanished the moment she’d set eyes on Bethany, and now the one person that’d become most important to her was slipping away as quickly as she’d come into her life. Jane felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Please, don’t…”
She was just a reach away from Bethany, and she opened her arms to embrace her. She just wanted this to go away so that they could be happy and together, and she could feel her in her arms, just like the day before… Let’s go back to our weekend together... please… “Bethany, I love y—”
Bethany turned. Her blue eyes burned with anger, and her fist connected solidly against Jane’s jaw.
Jane stumbled back, grabbed one of the tables as she fell, the chairs crashing over her. White flowers. There they are again.
“Oh…” she groaned, shaking her head.
“Bethany!” Jackson shouted, running into the room. He’d been watching from the kitchen, unwilling to intervene in their argument.
Jane pushed away the chair and managed to get to her feet. The spiral of star-like petals continued to swirl around her eyes, and slowly faded. She saw Bethany looking at her, her expression both shocked and angry. She was cradling her fist. Jackson was holding her back.
“Ah,” Jane said, touching her chin. She looked down and saw blood on her fingers. “I deserved that. I did.” She turned and nearly tripped over her own feet. Blood dripped down onto her Burberry dress shirt. She didn’t bother saying anything else. She pushed open the front door, the bells jingling twice as it shut again behind her. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, and soon she couldn’t tell the difference between them and the blood. It didn’t matter.
Seventeen
A bottle of whiskey, no visitors.
Jackson had volunteered to take over Bethany’s shifts at the café for the next few days. She couldn’t bring herself to go in. She couldn’t bring herself to do much of anything, except drink.
“At least it’s good shit,” she muttered as she poured another glass of the expensive Japanese whiskey. She swirled the bottle and eyed the three inches left, and then plonked herself onto the couch.
The tears had dried up a day ago. She literally could not cry anymore. Her insides were churning, and not because of the liquor.
She’d fallen for the woman who’d destroyed her livelihood. She’d fallen for a woman who she’d hated nearly as much as the one she’d loved, and the merging of the identities was tearing her apart. Of course she still loved her, and that was what really hurt.
Hating Jane would’ve made things so much easier, but no matter how much she wanted to, she just couldn’t. She remembered their days together, and more than that, she remembered the earnest conversation they’d had that Sunday evening about Jane’s plans.
She took a heavy swallow of whiskey, and nearly dropped the glass onto the floor at the sound of a loud knock on the front door.
Her mind raced. Could it be her?
She didn’t know what she’d do. She had run through the scenario a dozen times or more, each time certain that she’d slam the door in her face. But if it were actually her?
She turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open. A strange wave of relief, disappointment and then surprise washed over her.
“Marcos. What are you doing here?” She tried her best to keep her words straight, but she was drunker than she thought.
“Jackson told me what happened. Can I come in?”
“Yeah, okay. Be my guest.”
“Jesus. You stink. How much have had to drink?”
“Just a bottle of whiskey.”
Marcos came inside and picked up the nearly empty bottle. “It is a lot for you, ain’t it? You never were a big drinker. Can I have some?”
“I said, be my guest.”
Marcos fetched a glass from the kitchen, and th
en poured himself a splash of the amber liquid. He drank.
“Listen, Marcos,” Bethany said. “I wanna say I’m sorry for what happened the other day.”
Marcos laughed. “You’re sorry? Why the hell are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
