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Well at least now she knew what the worst was, and she was still trying to clean it off her feet under the hot spray of her showerhead. Who knew gum could stick that much? After a few attempts at trying to yank the big wad of sticky goo from her bare sole, she’d resorted to jabbing at it with the end of her razor. It finally fell off in a huge lump in the shower tub. She tried not to heave as she lifted it up with the tips of her fingers and threw it in the bathroom trashcan.
On the bright side it wasn’t glass. Or something a dog had squeezed out. And anyway, it was worth it to have walked out of the café with her head held high.
Or as high as it could be when you’re walking in bare feet and you have no idea if you’ll have a job in a couple of weeks time.
She climbed out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body and using a second one to dry the spray off her long hair. She twisted it into a turban and walked down the hallway to her bedroom, yanking her closet door open to try and decide what to wear.
In front of her hung the same old clothes. Shorts and denim skirts, t-shirts and tanks. A couple of sweaters that were only dragged out on the rare occasion the temperature dipped. She’d once had a raincoat that had stayed on its hanger for two years before she’d donated it to Goodwill, tags still attached.
In the end she picked a pair of navy shorts and a blue striped top that knotted at the waist. And when she’d pulled them on and managed to coax her damp hair into a messy topknot, she sat down on the bed and stared at herself in the mirror her mom had fixed to the wall when they’d first moved into this place twenty years ago. She could remember them looking around it, and her mom being so proud to be able to afford their own place with her wage from Newtons’ Pharmaceuticals. And at the time all Ally could think of was the fact it was a condo, and there was no swimming pool.
Looking back, she regretted that day so much. Hated that she’d failed to understand how hard her mom must have worked to keep a roof over their heads. And she’d never had a chance to tell her that. Instead, she’d lost her mom when she was still a hormone-ridden, sullen teenager, too busy rolling her eyes to see her mom for who she really was. Her passing was sudden and shocking, and Ally thought about her every day.
For years after her mom’s death, while she’d lived with her dad in his bungalow over on the other side of town, they’d rented the condo out. Her mom’s insurance had paid some of the mortgage off, but they’d relied on the rental income to cover the rest. When Ally had left school and started working at the café, she’d decided to move back in to the condo. Her wages weren’t amazing, but they were enough to cover what was left of the loan and the additional bills she had to pay every month.
Without them she wouldn’t be able to live here anymore. She pulled her legs up close to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees, trying to comfort herself. Having to move out of this place would cut her like a knife. It was her one connection left to her mom. She could sit in the kitchen and remember how it used to feel as she finished her assignments at the square table when her mom rushed in from work and would immediately throw some food in the stove. Then there were the Christmases – the ones when it was her mom’s year to have Ally for the big day itself and they’d stay up late on Christmas Eve watching movie after movie. By that point Ally knew the truth about Santa, but her mom never batted an eyelid. She’d tell Ally to go and put her stocking out at the foot of her bed, and when Ally walked into her bedroom she’d see a new pair of pajamas waiting for her on her bed, a little note from Santa attached.
She still bought herself a new pair of pajamas every year, putting them out on Christmas Eve in memory of her mom. Nobody else knew about that, not even Brooke or Ember. It was a secret, their secret, and she kept it between herself and her mom.
If she was really honest, the thought of having to move out of this condo was one of the things that was motivating her to get dressed and walk back to the Beach Café. She needed a job, and right now that was her best option.
The other thing? It was the café itself. Like her home, it had been such a huge part of her life ever since she was a child. And now that her dad had left, it was her only connection left to the life she used to live. She’d lost her mother, and her dad showed no signs of coming back to town. The Beach Café felt like the only thing she had left.
Except it wasn’t hers, was it? It now belonged to Déjà Brew and its handsome owner. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering how dismissive he’d been of the café and it’s history. He hadn’t wanted to hear her explanations, even though she’d worked there for the past ten years. He’d made it perfectly clear that he didn’t care about the culture in Angel Sands, or what the locals preferred.
In fact, Mr. Déjà Brew wasn’t interested in her opinion at all. And wasn’t that just a kick in the teeth?
* * *
Nate was on a phone call to the building company who were booked to do the refurbishments when the door to the café opened. He looked up to see an old man walking in, wearing a pair of baggy surf shorts and what looked like it used to be a white t-shirt before it became grey thanks to over-washing.
“I’m sorry, we’re closed right now,” Nate told him.
“So I see. You the new owner?” The old man had his arms folded across his chest the same way Riley had the previous day. Nate tried not to smile at the comparison.
“That’s right. Nate Crawford.” He held out his hand. The man looked at it for a moment. Then he reached out his own hand and gave Nate’s a brief shake.
“I’m Lorne Daniels. I own the sur
f shop next door.” Though his tone was neutral, his eyes were narrowed.
Ah, a fellow business owner. Nate had learned to tread carefully there. You couldn’t tell if they were the type to embrace change or be fearful of it. Plus there was the Déjà Brew brand – that always polarized opinion.
“It’s good to meet you, sir. I hope we don’t cause you any problems by being closed for the next couple of weeks. I know a lot of business around here rely on footfall, but I can guarantee that once we’re open I have plans to increase our traffic by fifty percent. That should hopefully spill out to the rest of the shops, too.”
“I don’t care about the footfall. I have enough turnover to keep things going. I want to know your intentions toward Ally Sutton.”
“I’m sorry?” Nate’s brows knitted together. “I don’t have any intentions toward her. I mean she’s a beautiful woman and everything, but she’s really not my type.” Had Lorne spotted him taking a surreptitious look at Ally when she’d been standing in front of him with all her spandex-clad glory?
“I don’t mean those sort of intentions,” Lorne replied. Though his face remained expressionless, Nate could have sworn there was a twinkle in the old man’s eyes. “I mean are you going to keep her employed here? That girl’s like a daughter to me. I want to make sure she’s taken care of. In fact, there are a lot of people in Angel Sands who feel the same.”
“She’ll stay working at the new coffee shop. I promised her father.”
“Huh. And I suppose you’ll be leaving town as soon as the café is up and running then?”
“No, sir,” Nate said. “I plan to stay around while my daughter finishes high school. After that I’ll be heading back to Seattle.”
“You and the wife?”
