“So, the fundraiser. Julia mentioned a town-wide event. Do you have any ideas?” she asks, taking a sip of her coffee.
We sit there with the sun leaking through the windows, dust floating around us. For a moment, it feels like we’re in high school again, like sitting on the bleachers after practice, talking about everything and nothing.
I lean back, trying not to focus on how she smells like a mix of lavender and vanilla, with a hint of coconut. “I want it to feel like the theater used to. A little nostalgia, maybe a classic movienight. Tickets by donation. Local businesses sponsoring a silent auction.”
She nods. “I like the classic movie idea, and a silent auction. Café gift cards, ranch experiences, store credits, we can get everyone involved.”
“Are you sure you want to help me organize this?” I ask.
She nods. “I’m good at organizing chaos.”
We talk logistics for a while, dates, permits, who we would need to talk to, and whether we should rope Henry into handling music or entertainment. It feels easy, too easy.
Eventually, she grows quieter.
“So, why did you leave?” she asks.
I wasn’t expecting her to be so direct.
I sigh. “I needed to know who I was without this place and people deciding it for me.”
She looks like she’s trying to read my face. “And did you figure it out?”
“I did,” I reply.
“And?” she asks.
“And I chose to come back.”
Something shifted with her expression.
“So, this coffee delivery…is it a one-time thing?” I ask with a smirk.
“We have a fundraiser to plan. I can’t have you collapsing before we get through it. I’ll see you later,” she says as she gets up to leave.
As she walks toward the door, I can’t help but feel like she enjoys my company as much as I enjoy hers.
She turns around once she reaches the door. “You know that even with all the gossip, people are still happy you’re back. The good always outweighs the bad.”
And with that, she opens the door, leaving me full of caffeine and a smile on my face.
Violet has gotten into the habit of bringing me coffee a few times a week. I don’t ask if she is working every day because it doesn’t matter. What matters is that she’s thinking about me, and she wants to be around me. That’s all I can ask for.
At 11 a.m. on the dot, Violet walks through the door. Today she has our normal coffees, but she also says, “I brought us lunch.”
“How did you know I was hungry?” I ask, taking the bag of food from her and walking toward the makeshift table I have in the middle of the theater.
“I could hear your stomach all the way to my café,” she replies, smirking.
“Well, you saved me then, but you have to let me repay you for all the coffees and now lunch,” I say, pulling out her folding chair and dusting it off.
“You can just owe me lunch.”
“It’s a date,” I say, staring into her blue eyes, as I sit down.
Today is the longest time we have hung out. We are talking about our families, what my next plans are for the theater, and she always asks how she can help.
I give her the same answer I have every other time, “You bringing me coffee and food is help enough. Plus, you were roped into helping with the fundraiser. You’re doing more than enough.”
