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She nods. “I know.”
“So I guess it depends on what Hurricane Hessa is doing.”
Nora smiles at this, and I notice she has another straw wrapper in her hand. The way it’s folded, it’s like a sword, and two small piles of sugar are on the table. Nora’s holding an empty brown-sugar packet in her hand. I recognize the sugar hills from the day I first met Posey’s little sister, Lila. A piece of napkin is stuck in the top of one pile, folded like a flag, just like the last time.
It has to be Nora who made them before. How did I not notice she was here?
“Tessa has to work all night,” Nora says. She cups her hand at the edge of the table and swipes away her little fortress.
I leave my rag on the table and walk to the bar. Lifting the partition, I grab a small trash can and carry it over to her. She shakes her hands over the plastic bin and wipes them across my apron.
“I wanted to take you somewhere,” Nora says, her voice low.
“I want to go somewhere,” I respond immediately.
I look at her. She looks at me.
I clear my throat. “I mean, I want to go with you, wherever you want to take me.”
Nora asks where the broom is and doesn’t say anything else about where she wants to take me.
Chapter Nine
SO, DO I HAVE TIME to change before we go to this place?” I ask Nora as I clock out. Posey is standing in the break room, tying her apron. Lila isn’t with her today, so I hope that means her grandma’s health is improving. Posey smiles at us as we leave, and I’m happy to know that Cree, the newest employee at Grind, is coming to relieve Aiden in an hour. Posey can tolerate Aiden better than anyone else, but Cree is much more pleasant.
Nora’s eyes rake over my stained gray T-shirt. “Nope. No time to change.”
I follow Nora out the door and onto the sidewalk. The sun is out today. It’s not warm, but it’s not as chilly as it will be tonight. September weather in New York is my favorite—hockey season and good weather, what more can I ask for? To be honest, I haven’t watched any games so far this season. It’s different now that Ken’s not around. We watched the games together. Sports were the bricks that built our father-son relationship. Well, the closest thing to a father-son relationship I’ve ever had.
“I want to give you the proper welcome to Brooklyn. Have you been to Juliette in Williamsburg? Or the flash-frozen-ice-cream place?”
I shake my head. I haven’t done much of anything since I moved here. I’ve walked and jogged around my neighborhood plenty, but I haven’t been inside many places or looked for the cool hangouts. Who would I go with, anyway? Tessa is too busy working, and I haven’t had the chance to make any friends here yet. No one on campus talks to me much. Every once in a while I get a random person asking me for directions, but that’s it. Washington Central University would probably have been the same if Tessa hadn’t introduced herself to me.
“I haven’t heard of either,” I say, which seems to make Nora pleased and eager to take me wherever she has planned.
“Where were you going last night? When I followed you?” I ask while we wait for the light to change.
She laughs. “Well, straight to the point.”
I wait for her to answer, but her lips stay closed. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
She shakes her head and touches her finger to the tip of my nose. “Nope.”
I should care that she’s hiding something from me. I should ask more questions about the secrets she hides, I know I should.
Instead, I ask, “So, Juliette? What is it, exactly?”
Nora smiles a little with my transition of topics. I promised her before that I wouldn’t try to fix her, and it’s easier to keep that promise if I don’t pry into her life.
This plan is awesome, except for the small fact that I want to know everything about this woman. I want to know how many sugars she puts in her coffee and what her favorite song is. I want to hear how it sounds when she sings mindlessly, and I need to know how long it takes her to get out of bed in the morning. I have an obsessive, overpowering need to know everything about her, and she’s going to drive me completely insane by not giving me what I need.
When we arrive at the French bistro named Juliette, Nora is bursting with excitement. “This place is the best. Everyone says that Le Barricou is better, but don’t let them fool you. Just because Yelp says so doesn’t make it true.”
“What’s Yelp?” I ask, trying to keep up with Nora’s quick feet.
The chalkboard sign on the sidewalk says TRY OUR TUSCAN KALE SALAD. A little green leaf is drawn next to the words. Oh, so the French have adopted the California Leaf-Eaters way of life, too. Okay, so that society doesn’t exist . . . Well, it probably does, I just don’t have any proof. And isn’t Tuscany a region in Italy? Some French bistro . . .
Nora walks in front of me and passes through the doorway. She turns around to face me just before she reaches the hostess stand. “You have so much to learn, young one.” She smiles, then turns back around.
