Heading back toward the kitchen, I go to make some decaf coffee for us both. As much as I want a full caffeine hit, coffee this late would be a horrible decision.
He watches me make our drinks, and we have some small talk about our day and work.
I didn’t know what to expect when I found out he was back in town. Everyone seems to have their own opinions and judgments about him, but from the moment I recognized him, Iknew there was something there that no one else took the time to see.
“So, tell me, what did you bring for dinner? It smells delicious.”
“Well, I hope you like lasagna, my mom found out I was coming here to work on the fundraiser with you, and she insisted on making us dinner.”
“She actually made us a whole lasagna for you to bring here?”
“She did, plus garlic bread.”
“I love your mom,” I say, laughing.
I preheat the oven, and in the meantime, we sit at my tiny little table that seems to fit us both perfectly.
After eating, we clean up, and he pulls out his computer and notebook. He is wearing a plaid pullover jacket over his black t-shirt. He takes off his jacket, and all I see is a sleeve of tattoos. I can’t stop staring. How does he make a basic black t-shirt and jeans look so good? Don’t even get me started on his tattoos. I don’t want to stare too long so every time I get a chance to look, I glance at a different spot to take it all in.
He must really like being outside. So far in my silent tattoo journey of Everett’s arm, I have seen some flowers, mountains, and trees with some birds flying in the sky.
“Ok, two months to plan everything? Which should be enough time to get the local businesses involved. Hopefully, they will want to donate something for the silent auction.”
He seems a little nervous.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve heard some rumblings and opinions about being back.”
Waving my hand and saying, “I’ve heard the same small-town gossip. They just need to get to know you again. You can’t judge someone by who they were twenty years ago without getting to know them for who they are now. I can visit the stores and explain what we are doing and see if they want to donate or helpin any way. I have a good standing here, so I am going to use that to our advantage. Plus, it gives me a chance to talk about how much time and energy you’re putting into the theater. I’ll talk you up a bit. Maybe that will get some people to look at you in a more positive light.”
“You don’t have to… but do you think that could work?”
I’m getting more and more excited about the event when I answer, “Sure it will! I could have a coffee station there for refreshments and treats, with all proceeds going to the theater.”
“You would do that? You do have the best coffee around.”
I blush at the compliment.
I don’t know why I can’t stop talking. “I always wanted to be the coffee shop that everyone loves.”
As the conversation moves on, I continue, “We should make sure there’s something there for kids, like a petting zoo, a balloon artist, or something.”
It’s like my excitement is infectious; he meets my energy, adding, “Our family is good friends with the Brocks. They live in the next town over and have a whole lot of animals. I am sure they would bring some animals for a petting zoo. I’ll call them tomorrow and ask!” Everett taps his keys, making a note on his laptop.
“That sounds great, the kids would love that,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee.
I’ve seen Everett around town a lot since he’s been back. He has always been the guy who left, but now he seems to be the guy who shows up.
Maggie was in the hardware store buying lightbulbs the other day, and Everett was there too. He dropped what he was doing, went to her house, and changed them for her.
Then the older couple that comes into the coffee shop every morning, Bill and Sarah, mentioned that they needed someoneto help them with a few tasks around the house. I told Everett, and he went over the very next day.
He has also shown up to the theater every day, and now he has taken detailed notes for the fundraiser. He cares. He’s not the guy everyone thinks he is.
“Well, I’d love to stay and chat longer, but it’s getting late, and I have to be up early again to get some work done. Maybe we should exchange numbers so we can keep each other updated on the fundraiser,” he suggests, packing up his computer.
“Ya, that sounds good,” I say, handing him my phone.
