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“I need to think things over. I just— this isa lot. I mean Auntie M. was a character, but this place is something out of a movie. I don’t know if I can be the owner-manager-chief bottlewasher of a place where monsters just hang around and talk politics,” she finally says.
“Who talks about politics? That’s the fastest way to get Mayor Wendell’s vipers up. Trust me, politics are the last thing anybody in this town wants to hear. Ms. Maria’s place was the one place in town where we could all come together.”
“Yeah.” I hear Gabriella lean against the door. “She always said her place was open to all and if you couldn’t play nice, she wouldn’t put up with it. She was a tough lady,” Gabriella replies.
“Nobody’s asking you to be Ms. Maria two-point zero. We just hate to see such an important establishment in our community close,” I assure her.
More silence. I check my watch.Holy crap!“Look, I have to get to work. Just promise you aren’t going to run off into the night. Okay?” I plead.
“Yeah I can at least say I won’t do that to you,” she promises.
I forfeit any idea of coffee. I need to get to my shift. I leave the massive porch behind and hope the Impala stays parked for a little longer.
5
GABRIELLA
Igo back to my bed to continue packing my suitcase. I meant it when I told Chet I wouldn’t skip town without telling him. But my hands keep reaching for the shirts I so carefully color-coded about a week ago.
Maybe I can find an apartment a few towns over. I could just leave Chet the keys and leave this bizarre place behind me. The huge elephant in the room practically steps on my toes. A huge dusty rose-colored elephant. I spent so much money remodeling the cafe, there is no way I can move.
I confirm the situation by looking up my bank account. I barely have enough money to get a hotel for a week, let alone rent an apartment. For better or for worse, this town and I are stuck together.
I think about what Chet said about being more open to new people. At leastthesenew people. I know calling them monsters is wrong. I tried not to unload all my shameful thoughts on Chet. I mean did I really see stitches on Carloyn’s partner? Not the normal medical stitches. Actual cross stitches that look like his head would fall off without it.
I am ashamed of myself as I imagine the officer's head snapping off and rolling across my brand-new vinyl floor. I would probably be too frightened to listen to the Miranda rights. I shiver at the idea, would he still be able to arrest someone without a head?
I put so much work into the cafe. How can they prefer those God-awful stained glass windows over that bright window seat? I suppose the critics had a point about the pink paint. Maybe I should have kept things subtle. But the silk roses tucked into the trellis wall above the reupholstered booths just pop against that pink! That whole section looked like a fairy tale garden. Why wouldn't they want to sit by that vibe and enjoy a great cup of tea?
I just don't understand why anyone would want to stay in the dingy and dark space I saw when I arrived.
Chet says that Auntie M’s cafe is an institution around here. I agreed with him just to get him to leave. But, those customers seemed really upset. There seems to be a real connection between this place and the town.
Maybe I need to give a little here. I mean there is plenty of space for some awesome murals. Maybe I could reach out to the local art scene? There are ways to work around this. And since I don't really have a choice I need to figure out how to meet these people halfway. I just called them people, I’m off to a good start already!
The evening passes with no issues. I suppose Chet is out dealing with his—problem. If that is the case, then I’ll happily see him tomorrow. When he’s normal.
The next day I begin to make my breakfast as usual. Peanut butter toast, good strong tea, and a banana. I get a few bites in when I hear a knock on the back door. I open the door to Chet lugging a huge toolbox.
He really is quite cute. The short brown hair tucks in behind his ear. Which draws my attention to the number two pencil poking out. I like the look.
He smells like cedar trees as he brushes past me. I sneak a peek at the seat of his jeans. Hopefully he doesn’t see me. If he does, he is playing dumb. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“If you’re going to get back into the Murphys’ good graces you need to reinstall those windows,” Chet answers.
I look at the handsome handyman. “Are you serious? Those things are cloudy, hideous, chunks of glass,” I protest.
“Yes, but they modulate the correct amount of light into the cafe for creatures like gnomes, which is what Mr. Murphy is, so their eyes don’t hurt. Mrs. Murphy is an elf, so she is a little more tolerant of brightness. But if Mr. Murphy ain’t happy Mrs. Murphy ain’t happy. Understand?”
I never thought about it that way. I always thought the more light the better. “Is that why he ran out of my place with his eyes covered?” I ask mortified.
Chet nods. “Yup, your window seats may look nice but they are totally impractical around here. Chris doesn’t go out much out during the day, but every once in a while he comes in on an overcast day and those window seats let in entirely too much light for him. Not to mention if Veronica brings her kid in—as it is now she isn’t able to see him with all that light.”
“Veronica has a kid!” I interject. I had spoken to her at least a handful of times now and I never saw a kid around.
“You haven’t met Billy yet?” Chet asks. I shake my head. “Well, you see, we fix the window problem, you get to meet Billy,” he adds.
Veronica has a kid, and she never mentioned it? What else am I missing around here? My fear of this place is turning more towards curiosity. But curiosity killed the cat. However, this place seems like the kind of place a dead cat could get a saucer of cream.
