I stayed close to the wall as if I were about to faint and needed the support. “Of course. I came as soon as I got your message. Is everything okay? Is Ethel good? Did she say anything?”How’s her health?
The director smiled softly. “Yes, Ethel is fine and has no complaints. We had some families raise concerns about Ethel’s involvement in the art circle and rumors about special ingredients for the baking evening, but in the end, the residents are happy and safe.” She tapped her notebook—a worn leather-bound contraption packed with scraps of paper, the whimsical item so different from her serious demeanor. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about. I’ll get to the point. Will you still be paying for the extra amenities for Ethel? You know her pension and savings cover the basics, but things like excursions and equine therapy cost extra. I’m just making sure, since you’re behind on this month’s payment.”
My stomach dropped. I was such an asshole. “Shit. Am I? I thought I set the transfer to go automatically.”
“It was declined.”
“Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
“You can skip this one and resume next month.” Her voice was kind and devoid of judgement.
“No, no I’ll get the amount you need by tomorrow. Some other payments must have gone through and sucked all the money. I’ll deal with this. I promise.”
“That’s fine. Everything will stay as is now, and you have until the end of the week. Would that work?”
“Yes, thank you. I need to get some tea. For Ethel. Excuse me.” I marched down the corridor to the communal area. Ethel had raised me as her own, and I couldn’t even pay for her activities at the nursing home. I’d be reviewing my finances and the cafe revenue yet again until I figured out what I could improve.
Author's notes:
I love writing Ethel! I was kicking my feet, giggling when I sat down and hammered out the beginning of this chapter. Sophia, I’ll know when you read this cause you’ll message me in capital letters! Heheeee. This character appeared to me fully fledged as YOU. So I had to do eeeet!
Rowan
The next three mornings, Tuesday to Thursday to be exact, Milo was not at the coffee shop. I glimpsed him closing up in the evening when I was walking back to my hotel, though. I had noticed only because the green-haired lady, Sophia, didn’t make the coffee as good as Milo. Not because his smile made for a better day whenever I saw it. Nope.
On Friday, I grabbed a quick breakfast at the downstairs restaurant at my hotel and headed to the Cryptid Café for my wake-up brew. This time Milo was in, bustling behind the counter, all energy and sunshine, talking to everyone while still doing his job efficiently.
He swiveled to face me. “Good morning! Just black, or…” He chewed on his bottom lip, his intense gray eyes crinkling from his wide smile.
From the mess of his unruly hair, one strand was poking him in the eye. If I’d reached over, I could have brushed it away. Instead, I shoved my hands into my pockets. What the fuck was wrong with me? “With sea salt chocolate, please. And morning to you too.”
Milo blew air up, and the hair fell back into place. “Coming right up! What’s your name?”
I was taken aback. “What?”
“I’ll write it on your cup. You can make one up as long as you know that’s your drink.”
Oh. It wasn’t a personal question. I was such an idiot. “It’s Rowan. Sorry—a lot on my mind.” Which apparently included Milo’s sunshine smile, his pretty eyes, and his hair, which stuck out in all directions.
“No worries, Rowan. Black with sea salt chocolate.” He danced toward the coffee machine in rhythm with the music playing quietly through the speakers all around. I recognized the latest Swimming with the Sharks album.
Sophia stepped out from the staff door and took the order from the lady behind me, then handed a printed note with it to Milo, who finalized my drink with chocolate powder.
He caught my gaze and set my cup on the counter. “Enjoy. And have a great day.”
“Thank you.”
With a nod at me, he swiveled back on his heel and began preparing the next order.
I took my cup and stared at his chicken scratch handwriting, feeling weirdly robbed of an interaction with him. It didn’t matter. I was in town only for the summer until the office renovations finished, so it would be better not to get used to thelocals. Then again, I might make the best of the few weeks here and attempt to enjoy the small-town vibe as much as I could before leaving. Treat it like a working vacation of sorts.
I had half an hour left before I had to go to the office, so I looked around the welcoming place and spotted an empty seat in the corner. Better than getting to work early.
Sinking into a well-loved armchair under a set of shelves with books on them was not the worst thing that could happen to me. I couldn’t deny that the coffee was fan-fucking-tastic again. The disastrous ball of energy that was Milo was buzzing about from table to table, making people laugh, and grinning like he’d been rolled in pixie dust as a kid and it seeped into his pores to remain there forever.
Pretending to scroll on my phone wasn’t working when Milo was around. The aura surrounding him lured my attention as if he were the center of gravity. Or maybe I needed to get laid and stop being so affected by a coffee-making twink.
With work being insanely busy since I moved to this place, I hadn’t had the time to go to a club or swipe right on Crypti-Match for a one-night stand. Wendigo Hills was a cozy town, but not so tiny that it didn’t have clubs. Thankfully, a table next to me had a rack full of leaflets of local places, including one that had a party tomorrow, on Friday evening. A quick online search helped me confirm that it was cryptid-friendly, as the entire town seemed to be. Unusual, but not unheard of, especially so close to a big and inclusive city like Chicago.
