The Coffee Girl

by Natalie Charles

  He tightened and flexed his fingers on his left hand. Finally, he said, "All right. I'll give the bakery the contract."

  A flood of relief rushed through my body, and beside me, Jax and Greta relaxed into their respective seats. I felt great, but the feeling was short-lived. "I have one more condition," Brennan said. "You and Jax are to continue this relationship until filming is complete. It's good publicity."

  Jax and I eyed each other, but didn't respond. Something in my stomach sparked. So much for being single again.

  The driver brought us back to Fisherman's Wharf and we barely stepped out of the limo before it darted off again. "Damn him," Greta mumbled under her breath. She turned to me. "I guess I have to figure out some union paperwork for you."

  Jax rubbed at his forehead. "Bastard," he said. "He shouldn't have dragged you into that."

  Greta stepped forward then and gave me a hug. Her wiry arms were strong. "Are you all right?"

  "I guess so."

  She patted my back. "You call me if you need anything, all right?"

  I nodded, and she set off. Jax remained by my side, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "So, looks like I can't break up with you after all," I said.

  His face was cast in shadows as he met my eyes. "I'm sorry about all of this. You wanted your privacy, and now look." He shook his head. "I'm damn sorry, Wren. You should never have walked me home from that bar."

  His anger touched me, and affection surged within my chest. Then I thought of that kiss, and I wondered if dating Jax meant there would be more of that. This was dangerous for my heart, all right. The only thing to do was to focus on the positive: Hedda's had a major contract. Maybe I wasn't so great at failure, after all.

  "We should make the best of this," I said, and slipped my arm into his. "You helped me to save the bakery, and I'm going to need your help on set. Maybe we should consider taking this thing to the next level."

  He looked at me. "What's that?"

  I smiled. "Want to meet my family?"

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jessie screamed and threw a cornbread muffin at me. Emily clapped her hands over her mouth and dropped into a chair in the corner. Dad made me explain three times who Jax Cosgrove was. Basically, the reaction was about what I'd expected.

  "I can't believe you kept this from us!" Jessie shrieked, running her gaze from me to Jax and back again. "How long has this been going on?"

  We were standing in the kitchen at Hedda's, surrounded by stainless-steel appliances and the warm scents of tomorrow morning's pastries. "Not long," I said. "About a week and a half now. It's kind of sensitive, with Jax's profession."

  "It's nice to finally meet all of you." Jax's smile was sincere.

  Dad shook Jax's hand and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Another actor. Better than the last one, I hope."

  A flash of uneasiness crossed Jax's face. Just as quickly as it came, it vanished. "I hope so, sir."

  Emily crept forward then and slipped a paper catering menu across the table. "Is it okay to ask you for your autograph, Mr. Cosgrove?"

  He spared a devastating smile. "Sure. And please, it's just Jax."

  I exhaled for the first time all day. This was okay. Good, even. Jax was acting like a normal guy around my family, and while I felt guilty for lying to them, my heart was in the right place. This was about saving Hedda's, and given the right circumstances, I believed Jessie or my dad would've done the same.

  Jessie, especially, was electrified by the news that I was dating a movie star. "You have to tell me your secret," she gushed. "First Griff, and then Jax! And here I was telling you that you'd been sleeping with the wrong men. The guy is sex personified."

  I laughed nervously and scratched at the side of my neck. "Yeah. He's great, all right."

  She folded her arms and stepped closer¸ lowering her voice to barely a whisper. "Maybe this is weird, but I need details, okay? You don't need to get gross, but just give me something."

  I glanced over my shoulder, but fortunately Jax seemed to be engaged in conversation with my dad. "Another time, maybe."

  "Sure. No problem." She gripped my elbow. "Oh my gosh. My cousin is dating Jax Cosgrove!"

  I couldn't dwell on the excitement over the relationship. My strategy was to focus on the catering component. Hodges Brennan may have been a bully, but at least he upheld his end of the deal. We had a catering contract signed before noon on Tuesday and barely a minute to collect ourselves before rolling up our sleeves.

  "We're going to need everyone here for the next two weeks," Dad said, referring to the college students who worked at Hedda's in the summer season. "They want more hours? They just got 'em."

  The order was impressive. Hedda's would provide breakfast and lunch for the cast and crew, which meant bagels, granola, fruit, sandwiches, salads — pretty much everything we produced. We were going to be working double-time, managing the bakery's current needs and meeting the new ones. Dad had called an emergency staff meeting and we were assembled around the kitchen after closing as if we were preparing for battle.

  Dad seemed daunted by the inexplicable good fortune, his hair a little bit out of place, his shoulders a little tenser. "But this is good, right, Dad?" I asked. "This is a good thing?"

  I can't explain why I was so desperate for his approval, but really — how long had it been since I'd put a check in the "success" column? And even if this deal with Hodges Brennan was technically a complete mess — a check in the success column for the catering contract, a check in the failure column for having to somehow bluff my way through a few movie scenes — I'd saved the bakery. Maybe.

  The question softened Dad's shoulders, and he broke into an easy smile, ruffling my hair and kissing the top of my head. "You did good, kiddo."

  "It's an amazing thing," Jessie said. "Overwhelming, sure, but…wow."

  "One thing," Emily said, raising her hand slightly. "How are we going to deliver all of this food?"

  "We'll use the van," Jessie said. "I've been catering small events here and there. I think it should suffice, but we may need to make a couple trips a day."

  "I could deliver," Emily said.

  "She'd be great," Jessie agreed. "She's helped me a few times. She knows what she's doing. I could always go, too."

  "Are you kidding?" Dad was firm. "I need you here, Jessie. Baking."

  Jessie nodded. "Okay. Yeah, that makes sense. We'll just send Emily, then, and maybe Rob. To help out with the heavier equipment."

  "So we have a plan, and now we have to stick to it," Dad said. "We're going to be running a tight ship for the next couple of weeks. We can't afford to make things more complicated than they need to be."

  I glanced at the nodding heads around the room. The discussion was ended.

  Despite my lack of skills, I would be expected to help out in the kitchen for the foreseeable future. Dad, Jessie, and I worked late into the night planning the menu: assorted muffins, coffee cakes, and scones, hot stations with scrambled eggs, sausage, and French toast, and cold stations with yogurt, granola, and cereals. I was hungry just thinking about it.

  "What do you think, Jess?" I asked as we locked up the bakery and headed out into the evening together. It was well past ten o'clock. "Do you think we'll still have to sell Hedda's?"

  She hauled her bag up higher on her shoulder and looked thoughtfully at the sidewalk. "It's hard to say. This should help, at least in the short-term. I worry, though."

  "What about?"

  "The inevitable. This is huge, don't get me wrong. But things have been sluggish for a while," she said. "Even with this kind of a contract, our margins are thin."

  The insight was discouraging. "I was hoping — I mean, I thought with this contract that everything would be different." I couldn't stop the injury from creeping into my voice. I was putting myself out on a limb, and maybe there was no good reason for it.

  She reached over to wrap an arm across my shoulders and pull me closer. "Let's take it one step at a time. Whatever h
appens, we're all going to be okay."

  I nodded, deciding that I had no choice but to be an optimist for a change. Besides, the wheels were in motion. It was too late to change course now.

  I brewed myself a large pot of coffee and stayed up through the night, writing my screenplay. I felt like a woman possessed as the words flowed through my fingertips, and I was so energized by the experience and the possibility that I didn't even drag my feet the next morning when the alarm went off. I worked another full day and spent the evening writing. Wash, rinse, repeat.

  And then something happened.

  I went to work at the usual time and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. The early risers came in for their coffee and toast, and then the tourists and beach crowd lined up. I was foaming lattes like a champ, and I set one on the counter and said, "Dave!"

  A middle-aged man in a plaid blue Oxford shirt, open at the collar, stepped up to the counter. "Thanks, Wren." Then he gave me a smile and a wink before heading out the door.

  I fumbled the empty paper cup in my hand. He must've heard Jessie or Emily calling me. Big deal. But then I gave a coffee with cream to a woman who asked me where Jax was these days, and prepared a double espresso for a teenage girl who was asking whether Jax was really that hot in person. "I mean, is anyone going to publish a picture?" She snapped her gum as she asked.

  They kept coming, a whole line of people, and when I looked up late in the morning, the line went out the door. Jessie and Emily were scrambling to keep up with the orders, and we had an actual waiting list for seating. A waiting list.

  "I don't know how long the wait is going to be," Emily sweetly explained to one patron. "We've actually never had a waiting list before."

  Jessie counted out change to a customer. "Thanks so much. Have a great day." She turned to me and said, "Can you ask your dad to run to the bank? We're almost out of singles."

  "Are you kidding me?" This had never happened.

  "Not kidding." She turned as the next customer approached the register. "Good morning. What can I get for you?"

  It was a woman with short curly brown hair and sunglasses on top of her head. She was carrying a paperback. "I'm actually just here for — is that her?" She pointed to me. "Are you Wren?"

  "Yes. Can I help you with something?"

  "Oh," she beamed. "I can't believe this! We're here on vacation, and I just saw the whole story on the news last night."

  "The news?" I stared. "What news?" I hadn't seen any cameras.

  "It was on that Hollywood gossip show." She snapped her fingers while she thought. "I forget the name. I almost never watch it, but I flipped on the TV while John was showering. That's my husband. Oh! Hollywood Daily, that's right!"

  "Hollywood Daily?" My knees went soft. "The story hit national news?"

  "It did. You're a star, sweetie!" She smiled, her eyes nearly disappearing in her soft cheeks. "And I turned to John and I said, 'Well, I'll be. I've got to find that bakery now!' But I should order something. I'll take a cappuccino," she said to Jessie. "And can you autograph the cup for me?"

  I froze. "You want me to autograph the cup?"

  She nodded. "Make it out to 'Ginny,' if you could." Ginny giggled and moved to one side to watch me work. "My girlfriends are gonna get such a kick out of this. When's your book coming out?"

  "Soon, I hope." I smiled as I set to work, not bothering to correct her. "I'm working on it now."

  I signed the cardboard sleeve that wrapped around the cup and handed the cappuccino to Ginny once I was done. She'd no sooner thanked me than Jessie leaned over and said, "Can you sign another one for Bev?"

  The next customer wanted my autograph too, and a few asked for pictures. We had so many customers that day, most of whom were there to see Jax Cosgrove's girlfriend, that we kept the bakery open nearly two hours later than usual. Dad followed the last customer to the door, locked it, and then turned to us, dumbfounded. "What just happened?"

  "Wren happened." Jessie slumped into a seat at one of the wrought-iron tables. "My whole body aches."

  Emily stared vacantly at us from the pie display in the corner, appearing as though she might fall asleep at any moment. "I was going to go out tonight." She yawned. "I think I might cancel."

  Dad crossed the room to the register and began counting the till. We'd had to zero it out several times during the day, and he'd made two trips to the bank down the street to get more change. "This is unbelievable," he mused. "This has got to be the single busiest day we've ever had."

  I was too tired to gloat, or to do anything other than stifle a yawn and say, "Good."

  The best part was that my tip jar had nearly overflowed ten times over that day, so I was able to stop by Sam's on the way home to settle my meager tab. The activity was great, but it wasn't anything I could have anticipated or planned for, and I assumed it was a one-time situation. News of my relationship with Jax had hit the press, and the uptick in business was a minor blip.

  But the next day was more of the same, and so was the day after that. If it was possible, it seemed that each day brought us more and more business, more and more tourists stopping in to ask the coffee girl to pose for a picture or give an autograph. A lot of them expressed an interest in my new role in Brennan's movie and wanted to know when it was coming out. Many more asked about my screenplay. As tired as I was, I spent each night locked away in my fishy-smelling apartment, typing furiously on my laptop.

  We were running out of the basics, flour and eggs, milk and cheese. Dad doubled the orders and called a few of his friends to ask if they were available to help out. Everyone who walked through the door was willing to buy something. Many of them wanted a coffee.

  When I told Jax about it, I was nearly breathless. "We've never seen anything like this here. Ever. It's a small miracle."

  He raised his index finger playfully and trailed it along my jawline. "What did I tell you? I have the Midas touch."

  "You have something," I admitted, and stepped out of his reach. Touches like that could be dangerous.

  Maybe I was getting nervous about my return to Hollywood, or maybe it was a matter of being fed up with the bakery decor. Whatever the reason, in a moment of weakness, I called my mom.

  Dad wasn't pleased when she arrived at the bakery ten minutes after closing. It reminded me of some kind of showdown as they stood facing each other: Mom looking chic in her floral print sundress, coolly gripping the straps to her handbag, and Dad in his button-down shirt and jeans, wiping his hands on a towel before slapping it across one shoulder. "Hello, Lil," he said. "What brings you here today?"

  Mom set her sunglasses on the top of her head and glanced around the bakery. I'd worried it might have been an explosive moment when Mom stepped onto Dad's turf for the first time in — oh, I don't even know. She'd avoided Hedda's for years now. Her gaze was soft, at least. Almost sympathetic. Then she attempted a smile. "Wren asked me to stop by."

  Dad shrugged, but the movement was stiff, a sort of forced nonchalance. "You know you're always welcome. We just closed. What can I get you?"

  Jessie and Emily were behind the counter, trying not to look too interested in the exchange. Jessie gave a little wave and said, "Hey, Auntie Lil."

  "Hello, Jessie." Mom went over to give her a kiss on the cheek and to run her hand affectionately down her blonde ponytail. "You've straightened your hair. I love it."

  "Thanks."

  Dad cleared his throat. "If I can get you something…"

  "I'm actually not here to eat," Mom said. "I'm here in my official capacity."

  She didn't elaborate, and I noticed Dad's confused expression. "I asked her to come here," I explained. "I thought that maybe we could do something new with the bakery. Decorating-wise, I mean."

  Wrong thing to say. Dad's face darkened and he turned. "That's a nice idea, Wren, but now isn't a good time."

  "Oh, come on, Hank," Mom smiled. "The space is charming, but it needs a few updates. I'm thinking window treatments, mayb
e new countertops —"

  "Now's not the time." Dad lowered his voice even though all of the customers had left. Then he directed his gaze at me. "It's not a good time." He started to walk back to the kitchen.

  That was his best disappointed tone, and it had never failed to make me feel like I'd done something wrong. Until that moment. "Dad, hear me out."

  He stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly. Encouraged, I stepped forward. "Look around." I gestured to the outdated decor: the tables in need of painting; the sad-looking window treatments, yellow with tiny flowers; and the old advertisements hung on the wall, which had been faded by years of sunlight. "If we want to stay competitive, we have to freshen up a little. With all the business that's been coming through the door, we finally have the ability to do something."

  His expression was pained. "I didn't want to have this talk now. Not now." He glanced at Mom, then walked over to the door and turned the lock. "I don't know if Wren told you," Dad finally said, directing his comment to Mom. "We have to sell. I've already started looking for buyers."

  "She mentioned that there were problems, yes," Mom replied. "Frankly, I'm here to protect Wren's interest in the bakery. Whether sprucing up saves the business or simply makes it more attractive to a buyer, I don't know." Mom folded her arms across her chest. Classic standoff. "It's not a favor to you. I want her to get every penny that we've invested for her." She lifted her chin. "This may be your business, but it's my concern, too. God knows I started this mess all those years ago."

  Dad must've heard the tremor in her voice because I saw his guard lower ever so slightly. "Let's not rehash old arguments."

  "We won't. That's not why I'm here." Mom's voice had softened and warmed, like melting butter. "I'm good at these kinds of things."

  "Your clients all live on the cliffs. We can't afford silk curtains."

  "You'd be surprised. I know how to keep costs reasonable. I know a few people who can do me a favor. Let me do this. Please. For Wren."