A block from the coffeehouse, Alex’s phone chimed: a text. She wasn’t surprised to see that Ben was canceling on her again. Her husband wasn’t the forgiving type. The aftereffects of their throw down still lingered, and most of the blame, she realized, fell on her. She’d said some pretty harsh things. She called him, thinking they could reschedule, but the call went straight to voice mail. She thought about leaving a message, but snapped the phone shut instead and once again settled for talking to herself.
“Shit, Ben. You have to at least try.”
No matter, she thought. She’d go anyway. Approaching the store, she noticed a new sign over the door, an old-fashioned wooden shingle that read BOOKS AND JAVA. The scripted lettering was pleasing, as was seeing the name she’d suggested in the first place. Louis had given Alex credit for that almost every time she visited, and each time she stopped, he had made some sort of improvement.
Today was no exception, she found as she walked into the store. Shelving had been installed on all the walls—heavy black iron brackets that supported thick shelves cut from rough wood left unfinished. Unlike a traditional bookstore display that concentrated on economy of space, each shelf held just a few hardbound works. An interesting assortment of found objects were used as bookends, like the old steel fishing reel, nearly the size of the book itself, that held a leather-bound copy of Moby-Dick upright.
The plaster walls had been textured and painted a deep shade of khaki. The linoleum had been stripped from the floor, and the rough, unfinished cement felt good and solid under her feet. Where there were no shelves, the walls displayed artwork—Americana in style; Alex recognized pieces by several local artists. The recessed track lighting was subtle, and the rich aromas of coffee and tea filled the air. The positioning of the half-dozen tables conveyed a sense of privacy and invited people to linger over coffee and a good read. Several patrons were doing just that, each one drinking coffee and perusing a book.
“Hey, Alex.” She turned at the greeting and saw Louis Carson step out of his small office.
“Hey, Louis. The place looks really great.”
Louis was clearly pleased with her response but didn’t say so directly. “I live right upstairs. The easy commute lets me stay late. Yesterday, I pretty much worked the whole day.” Louis looked around as he spoke and shrugged as if to say people could take it or leave it.
“It’s amazing,” Alex said. “I mean, I’ve been in some great coffeehouses in San Francisco and San Jose. I don’t know that I’ve been anywhere with a better feel than this. I’m really impressed.”
“You’ve been a big help. Lots of good suggestions. Seems like you’ve got a head for the business. Thanks again for the name idea. People seem to like it.”
“No sweat. What’s my cut of the take?”
“First there has to be a take, then I’ll let you know what you’re in for. Settle for a cup of coffee for now?”
“Sounds like you’re going to give it to me again, Louis. Knock it off. You need to take people’s money.”
“You’re such a purist. Darkest blend black?”
Alex looked at the dozen large jars of coffee beans arranged neatly on the counter. “Yeah, I really liked that last time. What do you call it again?”
“Heart of Darkness. I’ll get it.”
Alex took a seat near the window. Cool morning air mixed with the aromas of coffee, wood, and old books. Alex relaxed and felt at ease. Maybe Ben’s not making it wouldn’t be all that bad. We all need our own space, she thought.
Louis arrived with two steaming ceramic mugs. “If I ever get successful enough that I start running people in and out of here with Styrofoam cups, just kill me.”
“Yeah. In a place like this that would be a disappointment. My husband was going to join me, but he’s stuck at work.”
“Then I guess you’re stuck with me.”
“Careful. I might just talk your ear off again.”
“How’s your dad?” Louis asked. “Did you see him yesterday like you planned?”
“Yeah, I got to spend an hour with him. He’s doing all right. Still struggling with motor skills, speech, that sort of thing.”
Alex paused to sip the hot coffee and tried to remember the last time Ben even asked about her father. “I’m enjoying the book. I’ve been reading it to him. He loved … I mean he loves Cather. He actually named me after Alexandra Bergson in O Pioneers! I think it’s good therapy for him.”
“The power of great literature, I guess,” Louis said.
They talked for an hour, only occasionally interrupted by a customer coming in for coffee.
“I wish Ben could have made it today,” Louis said at one point. “I was hoping that might get some of the local cops to start coming in. Maybe he could put in a good word for me? It’d be good for business to see cop cars out front.”
“Yeah, that could work, I guess.” Alex found herself saying more than she’d intended. “Then again, the picture at the PD isn’t all that rosy right now. If you’re thinking it’s like one big happy family of heroic cops, that ain’t happening.”
“You mean it’s not like TV?”
Alex smiled. “Not quite. A lot of cops were very loyal to my dad, but since his sudden retirement, there’s been a real power shift. Now there’s a new guy in charge, and from what Ben has told me, the new chief is not all that thrilled about the old boss’s son-in-law hanging around watching his every move. Apparently nobody is. It’s a pretty lousy work environment right now.”
“How are you and Ben holding up?”
This wasn’t the first time Louis had impressed Alex with his intuition. More than once he had keyed right in on the real issue, no matter what her words said on the surface.
“It’s been tough, but we’re hanging in there.”
She was about to say more when a woman called out, “Excuse me. Does one of you work here or what?”
Several women in leotards and sweatshirts were standing at the counter. Alex blinked, wondering how she had missed their entrance. Looking at the group, she was suddenly self-conscious of her jeans, hoodie, and ball cap. Alex noticed they all had perfect makeup and manicures. Forget the outfits—these chicks have no plans to work out.
Louis looked at Alex with an apology in his eyes and touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Back in a minute, okay?”
He strode to the counter and quickly engaged the group, who all seemed to be around twenty-five. Alex listened as each woman ordered some foamy, sugar-laden concoction, clearly flirting with Louis the whole time. One of the group, Alex guessed she was somewhere around legal age, ordered a caramel triple-shot skinny something or other and practically undressed Louis with her eyes. Louis glanced at Alex and tried to smile an apology, but Alex couldn’t deny she was put off by the noisy intrusion and equally pissed that he was obviously enjoying the women’s attention.
When he turned away, Alex took the opportunity to leave. On the sidewalk she quickened her pace, fumbling for her keys. Unlocking the door of the eight-year-old family minivan, she tossed her purse inside, slid into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door. She caught a look at herself in the rearview mirror, her face flushed, and abruptly realized that she was experiencing the sudden flood of an emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time.
There was no denying what it was.
Jealousy.