Page 13 of The Fall Classic

“Cool. Me too.”

“You’ll probably be at practice when I’m here, though,” she says as we both stand up.

“What time are you usually here?”

She hesitates, though I’m not sure if she’s regretting committing to being here at all or trying to figure out how to make it work with my schedule.

“Nine?” she says.

“I can make that work.”

It’s hard to tell in the dark, but her eyes look like they’re darting back and forth between mine, almost like they’re asking why?

“We probably need to dissect ‘Mending Wall’ next.”

“Will it be on the test?” she asks.

I laugh too loud, although it probably only feels that way because we’re bathed in darkness. “Can I see you out?”

“I’ll take her,” Alma says from the door, where she’s standing with her keys.

“Yeah, of course,” I say, walking with Georgiana to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Georgiana.”

“Call me Georgie,” she says.

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Georgie.”

“See you tomorrow, Logan.” She says it like she doesn’t quite believe it, clutching her book to her chest. “Oh, and good game tonight.”

“Thanks. You too.” I groan at the same time as she laughs. “I mean … proverbially, probably. I definitely didn’t say something stupid there.”

“Go home,” Alma tells me, opening the door and practically shoving me out.

I turn back to see Georgie and Alma watching me go, and I’m already halfway home before I remember that I never changed after the game and my keys are still at the stadium. So I double back, hoping they’re already gone when I pass the coffee shop.

They are.

But Georgie’s mug is still on the table where she left it.

I’m not sure what that means, but it feels like a promise.

Her way of saying “I’ll be here.”

Me too, Georgie.

CHAPTER FOUR

Georgie

The line at the truck has been steady since seven, which is everything I hoped for when I suggested moving the truck to the factory lot. My first few weeks on Maple Street, I could have read half a novel between customers on a Wednesday morning. Now I have a stream of customers and am trying to keep track of everything at once, including wiping down the steam wand before milk builds up and affects the flavor profile.

Mama always said the little things matter, and you’ve gotta respect your customers enough to remember that nothing that affects them is little.

I keep the line moving at a good pace, thanks to a recent shift from one-at-a-time service to assembly line style when we’re busy: I take orders in a batch first, take payment, then make the drinks.

“Medium oat latte, two sugars,” I say, sliding it across the window with a quick smile at the customer. All of our drinks have names, but some people feel too silly using them. When that’s the case, I match their tone. “Have a good day!”

I give out another few drinks before taking more orders. When the next customer steps up, I lean down close enough to the outside to get a whiff of fresh air. Instead, I get a nose-full of diesel from the delivery bays across the parking lot.