Chapter 14
The Pinecone Falls café, if it had been situated in the middle of Boston, would have been one of the quaint, mom-and-pop-type establishments swarming with pretentious college students. In Pinecone Falls, the family atmosphere wasn’t cultivated to attract hipsters. It was authentic. This small, cozy coffee shop had probably been passed down from parents to children for the last few generations. The art on the walls wasn’t from the most up-and-coming artists in Boston hoping to make a name for themselves, but local landscapes, still-lifes, and portraits by local artists who may or may not still be alive. The tables were round, a bit scuffed, and clustered around the main counter where the old-fashioned cash register rested. The air smelled like fresh-baked cookies and cinnamon. It smelled like home.
And, from what Julie could remember from visits in the past, it hadn’t changed all that much. But she had, and walking into the small café, she felt like she was trying to fit into clothes from when she’d been a teenager. There was nostalgia, yes. But she felt too large for the space, too different.
“Julie? Julie Green?”
Julie should have been used to people recognizing her in this town by now, but she still startled at the sound of her name. She glanced around until she found the source—a woman her mom’s age, with the gray hair and laugh lines to prove it, wearing an apron that wrapped around her hips and carrying a carafe. She smiled warmly.
Julie felt the attention of several other customers in the shop, most of which were her mother’s age or older. She forced a smile to her face and pretended not to notice that she was suddenly in the spotlight.
“That’s me.”
“You look so grown up!”
Julie suddenly found herself wrapped up in a hug from a stranger. She awkwardly hugged back. She’d forgotten that people in small towns didn’t have the same sense of personal space boundaries that they did in the city.
The stranger cluckedunder her tongue. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Lucy. Back when you were young, I used to waitress here in the summers.”
Scattered memories of lunch with Gramps and breakfast with her parents bubbled up. The woman did look familiar. “Yes, I do remember.”
Lucy winked. “Now is different. Now I own the place.”
“Oh. It’s…” Julie glanced around, struggling to find something to say. “It’s just as I remember it.”
Fortunately, Lucy seemed to take that as a compliment. Still smiling broadly, she asked, “How are Ida and your folks?”
“They’re doing well. Gram misses the inn.” Julie didn’t add that Gram was also sick. No need to put a damper on anyone’s day.
Lucy looked sympathetic. “I bet she does. I never thought I’d see the day when Ida Green wasn’t up there running the Cozy Holly Inn.”
Julie didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. Instead, she searched the tables in the vain hope that Ivy had reached the café before her.
“Are you meeting someone?”
The question might have been innocent, but it felt almost sly. Although Julie had been young, she remembered this. The town thrived on gossip. It had to when everyone knew everyone else.
“Ivy.”
“Oh.” Was it her imagination, or did Lucy sound disappointed? “She’s at her usual table in the back. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll bring you a menu?”
Julie followed the line of Lucy’s arm until she spotted Ivy tucked into a table in the far corner. She raised her hand in a wave when Julie was looking in her direction. Julie thanked Lucy and started toward Ivy. In any café in Boston, this would have taken a matter of seconds.
In Pinecone Falls, Julie was besieged. Some of the people who stopped her on the way she barely recognized. Others were complete strangers. In each case, she stopped and answered the same questions: Yes, her gram was well. No, she wasn’t staying in town. She was only here to put together one last party at the inn. Most had heard about the party, of course, and they seemed excited to attend. In a town like Pinecone Falls, any type of get-together was exciting.
By the time she reached the table with Ivy, she felt frazzled. Fortunately, her friend took pity on her and hugged her briefly before they both sat again.
“So, how are things at the inn?”
Julie paused, thinking of how to phrase her latest problems at the inn. She didn’t want to complain or put her problems on Ivy, but she wasn’t good at lying and pretending there were no problems either. Apparently, Ivy interpreted the pause accurately.
“That bad, huh?”
Lucy came and handed over exactly one menu. Ivy, it seemed, came here often enough that she didn’t need one.
“Thank you.” Julie smiled up at Lucy.
“My pleasure. Just flag me down when you’re ready to order.”
