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Since the call, she’d been distracted, putting things where they didn’t belong, getting orders wrong, and her eyes were red-rimmed and glossy. I suspected she’d been crying.
Through it all, however, she smiled at everyone who came in, chatted with them, and made them feel welcome—even if she did give them the wrong coffee. The Mermaids had stopped by after scouring the beach, and more than one person had told me they missed seeing me out with them this morning.
Missed. Me.
It filled me right up with warmth and fuzziness, giving me the strength to work extra hard to cover Maggie’s mistakes without letting on that’s what I was doing. No need to make her feel worse.
While I worked, I also took mental notes on her graciousness. She spoke to everyone she knew by name, mentioned a child or pet, or a mama or daddy. She’d even asked one man about “Monty,” who turned out to be a snake plant that had been rescued from the trash of a big-box store’s garden center.
She knew this town inside and out, and it was apparent by everyone’s reactions to her that they didn’t come to the coffee shop solely for a caffeine fix. They came for Maggie. The way she made them feel.
I hoped she saw it. I hoped she felt it. And I hoped especially hard that her loan application was approved, because this town needed her here, exactly where she was, doing what she did best: serving up compassion and kindness, love and happiness to this small town.
Since that phone call, the only time I’d seen her perk up was when I called the doctor’s office for an appointment and lucked out in getting one for the following week.
But since then, her smiles hadn’t quite reached her eyes as people filtered in and out, talking about a rotted wooden boat that had washed up on the beach, the yard sale, and of how I’d taken in Norman in his hour of need.
Currently, I was wiping tables and chatting with Gracie as she tried to wrangle Juniper into her carrier. The baby was having none of it. Instead she wanted only to stuff a handful of her mom’s hair into her mouth.
Gracie said to me, “She puts everything in her mouth these days. She’s teething.”
“Do you want some help?” I asked, trying not to notice the butterfly that kept knocking against the window. From here, it appeared that part of a third wing was now white as well.
“That’s okay, I—” She was cut off by the sound of her phone, the ringtone a rendition of Elvis’s “It’s Now or Never.”
“Oh, that’s Ben calling. Don’t judge the song. I’m an old-fashioned sap.” Gracie shifted the baby onto a hip as she rummaged with one hand through the backpack on the table. Through all this, Juniper kept her death grip on Gracie’s hair, pulling her head at an unnatural angle.
I held out my arms for the baby. “Why don’t you let me hold her?”
“You’re a lifesaver, Ava.” She leaned toward me, and I slipped my hands under Juniper’s arms. As soon as I touched her, she released her grip on the hair. I drew her close to me, one hand under her, the other around her, anchoring her to my side.
Gracie found her phone and breathlessly answered, “Hey, I’m here.” Then she whispered to me, “I’m going to take this outside, okay? I’ll only be a minute.”
I nodded and looked at Juniper as if she were a tiny, loveable alien. I didn’t quite know what to do with her.
I’d never held a baby in my life. It was yet another thing I’d been denied because of my disorder, this simple pleasure. It had been too risky. Or, at least, it had been deemed too risky by those around me. Those who worried I’d accidentally cause harm, even though there was usually enough warning time before a seizure to prevent that kind of thing.
Right now I wasn’t scared of a seizure, but Iwasterrified I’d drop Juniper, so I quickly sat down. As soon as I did, she turned her dark-eyed attention on me, sizing me up like I was a buffet table at an all-you-can-eat restaurant. I was never so glad in my life to have worn my hair up in a messy bun.
She was heavier than she looked—and solid, too. She sat on my lap facing me, her legs stretched to span my waist. She gripped the top of my apron and tried to put it in her mouth, but it didn’t have much give so she looked for something else to grab.
I glanced over at Maggie for help, but she was in the middle of taking Estrelle’s order. I hadn’t even heard the older woman come in, which was unusual because she clomped like a Clydesdale. As usual, she was dressed all in black—today it was a long-sleeve dress with a mock-turtleneck neckline and a lace hem. She wore her usual clunky heels and hat. Today, however, she’d accessorized with a necklace of large pearls—black, of course.
Maggie was saying something about the weather for the yard sale weekend, and Estrelle said, “A big storm’s brewin’.”
“No, don’t say that,” Maggie countered. “So much work has gone into the yard sale. I don’t want to see it ruined by weather.”
Juniper’s silky hair was tied into the tiniest ponytail I’d ever seen. Her skin was rose-petal soft, and as usual she smelled of strawberries. She’d moved on from trying to eat my apron, turning her attention to my purple Magpie’s T-shirt. She had it balled in her tiny fist and she was so determined to get it in her mouth that she leaned forward to meet her fist halfway. She bumped her head against my chest as she tried and tried again.
I laughed. “That can’t possibly taste good.”
She gurgled, leaving a wet spot on my shirt. When she gave me a drooly smile, she stole my heart.
I forgot about how scared I was to hold her. Somehow I’d been reassured by how her small body naturally molded to mine and by that all-encompassing trust in her eyes. She was a charmer and I’d been thoroughly charmed.
As she continued to gnaw on my shirt, I threw another look at Maggie. She was wiping down the espresso machine, deep worry lines creasing her forehead. I glanced around for Estrelle and found her sitting as primly as she could with curved shoulders at the table next to mine.
Amusement danced in her eyes as she openly watched me.
