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“Start your day with a muffin, boy. It’s good for the mood.”
“My mood is just fine, Mr. Becker.”
“I love muffins,” Ally said.
“Now how’s that going to work? You with a sore throat and all?” Sawyer glared at her, and she giggled.
“Uncle Sawyer is always grumpy. Nana said it’s just his way, ’cus they’ve tried, but nothing changed him,” his niece said helpfully. “He’s my not sunny-natured uncle.”
“’Cus is not a word. It’s because,” Sawyer said. “And I can be sunny natured.”
She giggled.
Ally was seven and had plenty of attitude. Small and skinny, she was a wonder to her uncles, who’d grown up with a sister, but that was years ago, and Zoe had been a rule follower. Never wanted to stand out from any crowd. Ally was the opposite. Her favorite outfit to wear was a checked shirt over a tutu and black rubber rain boots.
“I can feel the darkness in him.” Mr. Becker waved the muffin he held with a pair of tongs.
“I’m always dark and grumpy. It’s my thing,” Sawyer grunted. “Unless I want to be sunny, then I can do that too.”
“No one’s thing is to be grumpy, boy.” Mr. Becker spoke in a thick German accent, even though he’d been living in Lyntacky for years.
He’d read somewhere that whatever language you spoke for the first seven years of your life was the predominant one you remembered. Sawyer was a font of useless facts. He retained stuff like a sponge.
He eyed the muffins under the glass dome. They looked good, but right now all he needed was a hit of caffeine after the crap night’s sleep he’d had.
“Bad night, Tommy?”
Klaus Becker had set up a drive-through in his front yard well before drive-through coffee was the thing. He’d done it for the people who were in a hurry, or so he said. He started at 5:00 a.m. and finished at midday. The townsfolk weren’t fooled. Klaus and his wife, Lea, just liked to talk and offer advice, and when their kids had left home, they got bored. They now counseled locals right alongside making them strudel, muffins, apple tea, and coffee. Rarely did they shut before 1:00 p.m., even if the sign out front said differently.
“I’m fine. Just the coffee for me, thanks, Mr. Becker. The attitude beside me will take a muffin with her hot chocolate.”
Coming on eighty, Klaus was tall, shoulders still straight, and bald. He had a lot to say about most things and usually did.
“You take the muffin, no charge.”
“We’ve covered this before. That’s not how you make money.”
He made a scoffing sound, gesturing to the small, brightly painted pale lemon house with flowers in the window boxes he shared with his wife.
“I have everything I need, especially since that check turned up with the refund on my taxes. Who knew I’d been overpaying for so many years? I paid off the last of my mortgage. Life is great, Tommy.”
“Good for you,” Sawyer said, taking the cup of steaming black liquid and lowering it into his cupholder. He then handed his niece her order.
“It’s like we’re blessed here in Lyntacky,” Mr. Becker continued. “Miss Jack got all that money in the mail from lottery winnings, and she didn’t even remember entering.”
“It’s a miracle,” Sawyer muttered. He took a large mouthful of coffee and bit back a sigh of pleasure as it filled his mouth and seared down his throat.
“Much needed and something that happens in this town more than others. Little miracles, just when a person is desperate.”
“Yeah, it’s weird.” Even though he said he didn't want one, Sawyer took the muffin that was handed to him.
“You drop by tomorrow, and we’ll sit and talk. I can see things are weighing heavily on you, Tommy.”
“I’m fine. You have a good day and make sure people pay for their coffee and muffins. No freebies, you hear me?”
The surprise on the man’s lined face told Sawyer he’d not said that much in a sentence before, which suggested Ryder was right. He needed to work on his communication skills.
“Bye, Mr. Becker,” Ally called with her mouth full of baked goodness.
