She half expected to find Mary’s husband, PJ, and her own Jefferson companionably sharing a smoke out in the alley, the way they had fifty years ago. But PJ lay in the graveyard, Mary next to him, and who knew where Jefferson might be. Instead, she shook her head to clear it, focusing on the reality of today. Patrick sat on an overturned bucket, a purple bruise blooming on his cheek while Joe paced back and forth, as though unable to settle.
“I’ve never been tied down this long before. Mom and I were like driftwood…like tumbleweeds…” Joe rested his head against the alley wall for a moment, his blonde hair glinting in the sunlight, before resuming pacing.
“When I got the call about Gram, I was in Myrtle Beach. I’d been waiting tables at a restaurant there, but it closed down for the season. I was heading south on my bike for the winter, looking for my next job. Instead of going south, now I’m stuck here, in this tiny little one-stoplight town!”
“Sorry to interrupt your ‘dust in the wind’ act, but it’s only a few more months.”
“It’s nine more months. Nine more months of being confined behind the counter, stuck in this closet of a shop all day.” Joe shook his head, raking both hands through his hair. “I can’t do it! It’s too much for me.”
“Well, you have to.” Patrick said, flatly. “If you don’t, we all lose our inheritance.”
“Who’s going to make me?” Joe swung toward Patrick, fire in his electric blue eyes.
“You owe this to me and to Zooey. You’re not the only one who’s made sacrifices here, Joe.”
“Buy me out.” Joe pleaded. “I can’t do this.”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Gram’s will is an all-or-nothing deal. And anyway, I don’t have the money.”
“Surely you saved up some from your cushy corporate job—”
“When I got the phone call about Gram, you wanna know where I was?” Anger sharpened Patrick’s tone now, his shoulders tense. Ruby stayed quiet. She didn’t think either man knew she was there in the shadowy doorway.
“Laying on the floor of a bar?”
“Not where you were. Where I was.” Patrick snapped. Joe hitched one shoulder in a funny half-shrug and Patrick went on. “I’d gotten laid off from my cushy corporate job. Three years wasted, just like that. I just got told to pack my things and get out on some random Tuesday.”
“Ouch.”
“I’d been living paycheck to paycheck. So, by the time Gram died six months after I was laid off, I was at the local food bank… starving, desperate and broke.”
Joe stared at Patrick, his eyes huge in his face. His mouth opened and closed several times but nothing came out. Patrick stayed silent after his revelation. Finally, Joe resumed pacing.
“I need this coffeeshop to work out.” Patrick said. “I have nothing else to fall back on.”
“You’ve got a degree.”
“In business. You know how many people out there have business degrees? From better schools? With better grades? The job market is rough out there and getting worse. So, if I have to serve a few lattes to be set for life, than that’s what I’m going to do. And you and Zooey are not going to stop me.”
“You’re not the only one with reasons to make this work, Patrick. But I can’t do it. I just can’t.”
Ruby shuffled her feet and, at the noise, both boys turned toward her. Patrick smiled and stood to hug her. She hugged him back and then walked over to Joe and pulled him into her embrace. He stood stiffly for a moment, as if bewildered by her affection, and then softened and returned her hug, resting his head on her shoulder for just a few seconds before letting go.
“You caught us at a difficult time, Auntie Ruby. Let me get you a drink…” Patrick began, trying to usher her back into the shop.
“Your grandmother knew this might be hard on you all. Difficult after so much time apart.” Ruby said. Joe shrugged and turned away, not meeting her eyes. “I have an idea that might help.”
“What’s that?” Patrick said, coolly polite, when Joe didn’t speak.
“Your grandfather used to run an old coffee truck. He’d take it up to the courthouse and businesses that weren’t in walking distance at lunchtime. Think you could do something like that, Joe?”
Joe thought for a second and then nodded. “It’d be better than being chained to the counter all day.”
“Like a food truck? They were super popular in Philly when I worked there.” Patrick frowned. “But we don’t have a truck.”
“We could rent one.” Joe put in, rubbing his chin.
“Joe, we have one year to make this place profitable or we lose it all.” Patrick said, gently. “I know you don’t believe me when I tell you that the margins are slim and getting slimmer but…”
“PJ made money hand over fist.” Ruby said. “If you’re struggling here, without the foot traffic from the railroad, maybe…”
“It’s worth a shot.” Joe said.
Patrick sighed and then shrugged. “Let’s go talk to Zooey about it.”
“I’ve already got the perfect name for my truck.”
“Your truck?” Patrick echoed but he grinned at Joe. Ruby’s heart lifted. Maybe Mary had known how to re-unite her family after all.
“I’m going to call it Cup of Joe!”
Patrick cocked his head to the side and rubbed his chin. With a smirk, he said, “How about Cupid’s Coffeeshop’s Cup of Joe?”
“I can live with that.” Joe nodded, slapping Patrick on the shoulder and leading the way back into the shop.
Chapter Two
In the clatter of the busy newsroom, just after lunch, Jefferson Elliot glanced around to ensure he was unobserved before slowly slipping the glossy brochure out of his battered briefcase. He carefully placed the flyer on his tiny desk and flipped it open. It fell open to the page he’d been staring at for over a year. There she was. His beautiful girl. The crown jewel of RVs— shiny and gleaming, just full of possibility and potential. His escape route. Just that morning, he’d stopped at the dealership, finally putting the deposit down on his long cherished retirement dream.
Jefferson looked around again at the hive of busy reporters, hunched over their desks, typing frantically or reviewing copy. In his fifty years as a reporter, he’d seen technology change his business into something nearly unrecognizable. But now, when every yokel with a cell phone fancied himself an ace reporter, Jefferson knew it was time to go. He wasn’t young anymore. He needed to start his second act while he still had time, his good health, and energy to go.
He’d drive around the country, even up through Canada into the Alaskan wilderness, finally free to create his own story after years discovering other people’s stories as a journalist. He’d bring his camera and his laptop to document it all and keep in touch with his brood of grandchildren. He’d been dreaming of this for years.
The dream might have morphed a bit over the decades. For instance, he’d always imagined his wife in the passenger seat and hadn’t counted on the breast cancer that claimed Julia nearly ten years before. He always assumed he would have a partner on his journey, but he could still make his dream happen solo. Now, after all this time, it was finally his turn.
Only one task remained.
He had to put in his retirement papers. Just a few clicks on the computer would do it. The paperwork would be completed in seconds and he could leave by the end of the week. There would be a farewell party because no one on the newspaper would ever pass up the opportunity for a slice of free cake. And then it would be him, his cameras, and the open road with Betsy, his shiny new RV. Humming, he reached for the mouse and laid his hand on the curved plastic, just as his boss, Alexa, materialized beside his desk.
“Hey, um…Mr. Elliott?” She said, in her high-pitched singsong voice. His latest boss was younger than his eldest grandchild. Alexa was sweet and kind but she, like the other “digital native” reporters considered him a dinosaur. Maybe it was long past time he should be put out to pasture. For once, Jefferson wasn
’t going to argue.
“Jefferson.” He murmured, for at least the hundredth time.
“Right. Jefferson. I’ve got a lead for you. It just went viral—that means it’s really popular on social media.”
Jefferson, his finger on the button to submit his retirement papers, paused. Even after a half century as a reporter, the promise of a gripping story reeled him in like a flashing lure to a fish. He looked up at her, his eyebrow cocked.
“I know what viral is.”
“Right. Okay.” Alexa said in a rush, “It’s in a town about an hour from here. Called Ashford Falls…”
Though Alexa kept talking in her chirrupy voice, Jefferson didn’t hear her, as he tumbled back through time in his mind. Ashford Falls. Cupid’s Coffeeshop. Ruby Davis. With supreme effort, he blinked away the past and focused on Alexa.
“So, this guy from Cupid’s Coffeeshop runs a coffee truck. They’re calling him the coffee hunk. His real name is Joe something. It starts with an L.”
“Lockhart?” Jefferson suggested, through numb lips. He’d seen Mary’s obituary in the paper, just last fall, and it said that the shop had been closed for over a decade. Joe Lockhart had to be her grandson. Jefferson blinked, clearing away the mist of his past. What—or who—else would he find if he returned to Ashford Falls?
“Right. Anyway, could you head out and get the story? Do some interviews?” Alexa beamed at him, clearly pleased to have given her eldest employee such an easy assignment.
Jefferson nodded, lost in memories of his time in Ashford Falls. Alexa patted him on the shoulder and disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived. Fifty years ago, Mary and PJ Lockhart gave a young punk runaway a job, taking a chance on him when no one else would. He’d gone from aimless drifter on the railroad to a busboy, overnight. They’d even let him live in the spare room of their little apartment above the store. He could still see Mary, huge with her first child, and PJ laughing as they danced around the warm, cozy coffeeshop they’d created.
And then that spring, fifty years ago now, when Mary’s best friend, Ruby Davis, returned for her spring break, on the verge of earning her college degree. Tall and regal, she’d strolled into the store and stole his heart, the spring breeze blowing a shower of cherry blossoms in behind her. Jefferson knew it was that moment, when he’d been grumbling about the blossoms he’d have to sweep up, that he’d completely lost his heart to Ruby.
He’d never gotten it back.
How strange that his long lost love’s hometown would be the last story he did, before setting out on his grand adventure. Life was funny that way, strange coincidences and unexpected turns in the road. Often, Jefferson knew, all you could do was hold on for the ride. With a smile on his face, he clicked “submit” on his retirement papers, grabbed his jacket and headed out the door into his past.
Chapter Three
Just as she had for decades, Ruby arrived at her law office right after seven. She liked the cozy quiet of early mornings to catch up. However, as she unlocked the door at Davis & Peterson, a light gleamed out of the corner office across from her own. Ellen Peterson, the original Michael Peterson’s daughter, popped her head out the door and waved. Ruby headed down the hall and entered the warmly inviting office, covered in colorful garden watercolors and full of feminine touches now. When Michael manned this office, it’d been all golf and sailboats. Now, with Ellen, it reflected her passion for gardening.
“Morning, Ruby. Want some tea?”
Ruby shuddered at the thought of the weak herbal tea that Ellen favored. She’d always been a coffee gal. Ruby shook her head and lowered herself into the visitor’s chair across from Ellen’s desk. When Ruby and Ellen’s father founded the firm, Ellen had been a coltish teenager. Now Ellen had two teenagers of her own at home and another son in college. Time marched on, Ruby supposed, whether you wanted it to or not.
“Ruby?” Ellen interrupted her woolgathering.
“Sorry, El, daydreaming.”
Ellen eyed her over her mug, patterned with butterflies. “What about?”
“I remember sitting across from your daddy, brainstorming about cases and legal tactics to try.”
“Now daddy does his brainstorming on the golf course most days, if he’s not on his boat.” Ellen laughed. “He and mom are enjoying their retirement. The kids are going to see them next week for spring break.”
“I never imagined retiring.” Ruby confessed. “I worked so hard building the firm that I never thought about what would be next.”
“Retirement is not required.” Ellen smiled. “I’d miss you dreadfully.”
“I know.” Ruby sighed and sunk deeper in the plush chair. “I just wish I knew what I wanted to do for my second act.”
“You’ll come up with something. No need to rush.”
Ruby nodded, barely there. Since Mary’s passing, Ruby had become much more aware of her own mortality. Though she loved the law, loved the challenge of practicing and teasing out some legal nuance, she didn’t want to do it for the rest of her life, however long that might be. Ruby just couldn’t come up with what she wanted to do instead.
At eleven, Ruby pushed aside the brief she’d been revising all morning and gave in to her need for a break. She headed out into the perfect spring day, enjoying the way that the cherry trees along the cobblestone street looked liked they’d been dipped in raspberry yogurt. She tugged on one limb and peeked at the star shaped blossoms. Just a few more days and the cherry trees would be in full, glorious bloom. Every year, Ruby looked forward to the pale pink blossoms waving from the trees and raining down like pink confetti everywhere. Cherry blossom time was fleeting, but beautiful and hotly anticipated by everyone in a 100-mile radius of DC. Maybe she’d even treat herself to a trip downtown to walk around the Tidal Basin at the Jefferson Memorial.
Unbidden, she daydreamed over just such a springtime stroll with Jefferson, a half century previously. They’d driven into town with Mary and PJ, bringing along a picnic lunch. The two couples strolled around the basin, enjoying the stunning views. Ruby could still feel the warmth of the sunshine on her skin, hear the lap of the water against the tidal basin, and taste Jefferson’s lips on hers as he stole a kiss. He’d tasted like strawberries and spring itself.
Lost in nostalgia, Ruby ambled down the cobblestone street, past the wrought iron fence around the historic courthouse, toward the crowd amassing at the front of the building. A white truck emblazoned with “Cup of Joe” on the side and the Cupid’s Coffeeshop logo on the back, sat parked in front, a bustling line forming down the bumpy, uneven cobblestone sidewalk.
On Joe’s first day driving the truck, a young Clerk of the Court snapped a smiling selfie with Joe, posted it on the latest hot social media site, and within hours created a sensation called the “coffee hunk.” Every day the crowds swelled, anxious to see the “coffee hunk.” Joe leaned out truck’s side, an easy smile on his face, as he chatted with the mostly female customers. Ruby chuckled and wondered what PJ and Mary would think of their handsome grandson going viral.
“Oh Mary Love, look at us now.” Ruby muttered, wishing that Mary could be here to see this moment. As Ruby stepped into the line at the back, an older man in a brown suit stepped onto the pavement from the opposite direction. He cocked his head at the truck and crossed his arms over his chest, just the way Jefferson used to do. Her heart thumped as she laughed at herself. It wasn’t Jefferson, she reassured herself. She’d just been thinking of him today and so her mind conjured this man.
It couldn’t be Jefferson. Not after all this time. Ruby chided herself but then, when the man put his hands on his hips and rocked back on his heels, Ruby knew.
No one but Jefferson moved like that.
Even though it’d been over fifty years since she’d seen him and she hadn’t glimpsed his face, she recognized the slope of those broad shoulders and the roll of his hips as he stepped forward. Ruby swallowed hard and turned to flee, not ready to face the man who’s heart she’d broken so
callously five decades before. The man who held her heart, even still, then, now, and always.
But Mary must have nudged Joe right then because he called over the crowd, “Auntie Ruby, you want to try a Cherry Blossom Cappuccino?”
As if in a dream, Jefferson twisted toward her. Across a sea of people, their eyes met and held for a heartbeat. Then another before Jefferson gave her a beautiful, beaming smile and called, “Hey there, Rhubarb!”
Ruby froze, rooted to the pavement, as Jefferson made his way through the crowd toward her. Patches of silver gray shot through his dark hair and age lines creased his handsome face. But beneath the changes stamped by time across his face, the espresso colored eyes of the boy she’d adored still gleamed with mischief. Cherry blossoms scattered over his suit jacket and she suddenly recalled him stealing another long kiss from her. Beneath the cherry trees in Mary’s yard, on that last Easter before she’d gotten her degree. She swallowed hard, trying to think what to say to this man who had once been the center of her world.
“Hello, Jefferson.” Ruby finally managed. He stepped in front of her and caught her hand between his own, still beaming. The simple touch of his hand on hers thrilled her, the way no other man ever had.
“It’s so good to see you, Ruby. I’d hoped I could when I came here for this story.” Jefferson, still holding her hand, turned back to the truck. “What would PJ and Mary say about this, huh?”
“Joe’s created quite a sensation.” Ruby said, her voice calm and even, though her pulse fluttered in her throat.
“Must take after his grandparents.” Jefferson laughed. “I’d hoped to interview him, but I see it’ll have to wait until after this lunchtime crush. I heard the old coffeeshop is open. Come and have a drink with me.”
Cupid's Coffeeshop Set One: Boxed Set: Books 1-4 Page 15
