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She stops in a Starbucks, located in a small strip mall on Military Trail, on the way home. It’s crowded and she has to wait in line, a situation she normally avoids like the plague. But this morning has been something of a wake-up call. Her paranoia has already cost her her marriage. Now it’s starting to affect her son.
Besides, she’s in no hurry to get home. Erin will either be asleep or unpleasant, the only two options she seems to present these days. “A tall, skinny latte,” Maggie orders when she reaches the front of the line. “And a muffin.”
“What kind?”
“Cranberry walnut?”
“Name?” the barista asks, handing her the large muffin.
Maggie takes the muffin, gives the girl her name, pays the cashier, then looks around for a seat. But the half-dozen stools by the window are occupied and there are only a few tables, all full. “You’re very busy this morning,” she remarks idly, stepping aside to let the man behind her place his order. She notes that he’s young and very handsome, and tries to imagine what he’d look like minus the shirt and tie.Where the hell did that thought come from?she wonders.What is the matter with me?“Are you hiring?” she asks the girl behind the counter, in an effort to override such thoughts. “My daughter is looking for a summer job.”
The girl behind the counter shrugs, swivels toward her co-workers. “Are we hiring?”
More shrugs.
“She can fill out an application online,” one of the employees volunteers.
Fat chance of that,Maggie decides, watching as a table by the door frees up just as her name is called. She hesitates, torn between grabbing her latte or making a beeline for the table.
“You get the table,” the man behind her says. “I’ll bring the coffee.”
“What?”
“You’re Maggie, right?”
Her body tenses. “How do you know that?”
“The girl just called it out.” He smiles. A flash of white teeth. Dimples. “And your name’s on the cup.”
“Right.”I’m an idiot,Maggie thinks, heading for the now-empty table along the far wall. She sits down at one of its two chairs, her purse in her lap. The man is right behind her, handing over her latte. “Do you mind if I join you?…It’s the only available seat,” he says when she fails to respond.
“Rick!” a voice calls out.
“Be right back.” He’s gone before Maggie can object.
Take your coffee and your muffin and run,she thinks. But the man is back before she can muster the necessary resolve to move her legs.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, sitting down. “I’ll just sit here and drink my coffee. We don’t have to talk.”
“No, that’s all right,” Maggie says, pretending to sip at her coffee when what she is really doing is studying the man’s handsome face. He’s younger than she is, although it’s impossible to tell how much. Blue eyes, brown hair, deep dimples at the sides of his lips. Well dressed. No visible tattoos. He doesn’t look like a hired assassin. “I’msorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“You weren’t. How’s the muffin?”
“Not great. It’s slightly stale and the walnuts are as hard as stones.”
“Good to know.”
Maggie sips at her coffee, not sure what else to say. It’s been a long time since she’s made small talk. And she was never very good at it. She takes another bite of her muffin, feels a sliver of walnut lodge inside the same back filling she loosened a few weeks ago at Publix.
“So, your daughter’s looking for a summer job, is she?”
A sharp intake of breath. “How do you know that?”
“You kind of announced it.” Another smile. More dimples.
Maggie tries smiling back, but the result is more twitch than smile. “Are you…hiring?”
“Me? No. But I know that the hairdressing salon next to my office is looking for a receptionist.”
