Chapter 18: Chapter 18

“Boy, is it chilly out!” she exclaimed, stomping her feet on the mat inside of the door. A small amount of snow pooled next to her black boots. She held a cup of coffee in one hand, and her other held the top of her coat closed, her large purse looped over her arm. “Brrr!”

Dak turned to smile at her, waiting for her to look up before he said anything. She did—and a large grin spread across her face. “Hi, Ellie.”

“Dak! Well, I’ll be done snickered! How are you?” she rushed over and enveloped him in a tight hug, as if he was her long lost son she hadn’t seen in ages instead of a stranger she’d met at an inn the day before. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. How long have you been here?”

“Just a few minutes,” he assured her as she let him go. “Memory and I were just chatting.”

Ellie looked around him at Memory, and he stepped out of the way, but not before he saw the odd expression on Ellie’s face. It was a sort of a demure smile, like Ellie had a secret only she was in on. “Oooh, how lovely.”

Memory’s eyebrows went up, and Dak caught her eye for a second before he turned back to Ellie. “How was the coffee shop?”

“Busy,” Ellie replied, walking around the cash register. She set her cup on the counter and dropped her bag on the floor before she whipped off her coat and grabbed an apron hanging on a hook behind the counter. “But I saw a few ladies I met in the shop the other day. Friends of your grandmother’s I think, Memory,” she added as she tied her apron. “The ones who asked me to church with them Sunday. It was so nice to see them.”

“That’s great,” Memory said, nodding. “I’ll be there, too.”

“Wonderful. Dak, you should come.” Ellie smiled at him, and he stared, wide-eyed, not sure how to reply. He hadn’t thought about going to church while he was in town, but it might be a good idea. It would give him a better feel for the people who lived here, and Christmas was the best time of year to attend a house of worship. He loved Christmas music, and everyone tended to be happy, at least while they were in church. “Cornerstone Baptist, on the corner. Made of stone. Can’t miss it.” She laughed at her own joke, and Dak and Memory joined her politely.

“I might be able to do that.”

“Good, good,” Ellie said, continuing to bustle around. “I’ll just go put my purse and coat away and then.... Oh, fiddle!”

Memory’s head jerked back slightly. “What did you say? Fiddle?”

Ellie didn’t answer her. “I’m sorry, Memory! I was so distracted at chatting with the ladies, I completely forgot to get your latte! I was going to pick it up on my way out, since they’d asked me to sit for a minute and have a muffin with them, and dagnabit if I didn’t forget to go back.”

“That’s okay...” Memory said, waving her hand. “I can make some coffee.”

“No, no, now that’s not fair at all. You should go on down there and have your own break. I can manage here. We’re all caught up, and the lunch crowd hasn’t started coming in yet. You two, go on down to the coffee house and visit.” Ellie was around the counter, pushing Memory with one hand as she came at Dak with the other.

“Us two?” he asked, as her hand landed on his arm, suddenly starting to put a few pieces together he hadn’t realized were supposed to be a puzzle.

“Yes, and here.” She pulled cash out of her apron pocket and held it up to Memory. “On me.”

“Oh, no, Ellie. That’s okay. It’s really not that big of a deal. I’m fine.”

“No, no, I insist.”

Memory looked at him, her blue eyes as large as saucers, as if she had no idea what she was supposed to do in this situation. Dak couldn’t help but smirk at the situation. “Well, she is insisting,” he pointed out, shrugging his shoulders.

She held his gaze for a second, silently checking to see if he really wanted to go with her or if he was just being polite, and when she decided that he really wasn’t put out at the idea of spending a few minutes with her, Memory said, “Yeah? Well, okay. I guess.” Turning back to Ellie, she said, “I mean, if you’re sure you don’t mind. If it gets busy, you can....”

“Handle it,” she said. “If it gets busy, I can handle it.”

Memory stared at her for a moment. “All right. I need my coat. And I’m not taking your money.”

“Take it, or I’ll just put it in the cash register,” Ellie insisted.

Shaking her head, Memory made a wide berth around the older woman, heading to the back. Dak waited until she was out of the room before he looked Ellie in the eye. “Forgot the latte, did you?”

Ellie shrugged, making no comment, and as she turned to walk back to the cash register, she started to hum along with the song playing, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” She opened the cash register and dropped the cash inside. Dak chuckled at her, and she caught his eye over the top of the register and winked.

***

The walk to the coffee shop was slightly awkward. Memory wasn’t sure what to do with her hands or what she should say to Dak, who tried a few times to engage her in conversation, but the butterflies in her stomach seemed more like dancing reindeer, and it took her a long time to settle down enough to truly engage in any topic he brought up. She didn’t want him to think she was boring or stupid, so she took some deep breaths as he pulled the door to the shop open for her, the familiar scent of all things brewed wafting through her lungs making her feel like she was at home. She could do this—it wasn’t like she’d never been on a date with an attractive man before. And this wasn’t even a date! She could do this....

“Thank you,” she said, letting the warmth of the establishment thaw her face as she approached the counter, Dak just behind her. The scent of his cologne, a light blend of woodsy musk with a hint of something slightly festive—not cinnamon, but something that gave her the impression he’d chosen a holiday version of his preferred brand—settled into her lungs with her calming breaths, and she found herself slowing slightly so that he was even with her instead of behind her.

“What’s good here?” he asked, looking at the menu. “I was in for a moment yesterday, but I just grabbed a black coffee on my way to a meeting.”

So many questions popped into her head, but Memory stored them away for later. “I always get the mistletoe latte this time of year. It’s creamy with a hint of mint, not too strong, and then it has sort of a... berry after flavor.”

Dak raised an eyebrow at her. “Berry? In a latte?”

“I know it sounds weird, but it’s really good.”

“Oookay....”

“Of course, if that’s not your thing....”

“No, no, I ‘ll take your word for it, Miss Memory.”

She giggled, not sure what to make of that. The customer in front of them got her order and stepped aside, so Dak gestured for her to order.

“Hi there, Memory,” Sheila, the coffee house owner, and a very good friend of Memory’s dad, said in her sweet southern accent. “The usual?”

“Yes, please,” Memory said, wondering what her father’s friend might think when she added, “and make it two, please.”

Sheila raised an eyebrow and then looked at Dak. “Hi there. I remember you from yesterday. How was yer coffee? Did you end up addin’ any sugar to it?”

“Nope, it was good straight,” he said with a smile.

Sheila grabbed two of the largest cups they had and said, “Good, good,” and headed over to the machine to prepare their drinks. Memory glanced behind her to see if they were in anyone’s way and was glad there was no line at the moment. A few tables were occupied, but the place wasn’t crowded now, and none of Grandma’s friends from church were still there—which she was thankful for. She wouldn’t even know how to introduce Dak to any of them. She saw a few people she knew and waved at them, but none of them were more than acquaintances.

Sliding the two drinks across the counter, Sheila turned to the cash register. “That’ll be $7.34,” she said with a smile.

Memory reached into her pocket, wondering if she even remembered her billfold. She’d been in such a tizzy when she went to get her coat, it might not have occurred to her. Before she could dig too deeply into her pockets, Dak handed Sheila a $10 and told her to keep the change.

“Thank you,” Memory said, picking up her cup. “I can pay you back.”

He smirked at her and gestured at an empty booth. Trying not to show any hesitation, Memory crossed the shop and slid into the booth, blowing out a deep breath that stirred her bangs as Dak sat across from her. She took a sip of the latte. It was entirely too hot and singed her tongue, but the flavor was delightful, and she found herself smiling despite the pain.

“How can you drink it when it’s that hot?” Dak asked, pulling his head back slightly as if he were impressed with her coffee drinking skills.

Memory shrugged. “I don’t know. I always do. My tongue’ll be numb for an hour or two, and then I’ll be fine.”

He laughed, and Memory noted how rich the sound was, how it sort of rolled around in her ear like the tune of a familiar song. He was easily the most handsome man she’d ever seen in real life—maybe even in the movies. He looked like he might’ve just stepped out of a magazine, with his dark hair, slightly messy as if he had an agreement with the wind to only blow it a certain way. Clearly, he was a runner or did something to stay in shape and probably lifted, too, though it was hard to tell with his coat on. He had the hint of a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose that she imagined announced themselves fully sometime in June and probably hibernated through most of the winter. Something familiar about him settled in her chest, a sense she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around, but it was there just the same, like a blanket she’d cuddled up with when she was younger but hadn’t seen for years.

“So how long have you owned the shop?” he asked shrugging out of his coat and confirming her suspicion that he at least appeared to be familiar with a gym. He was wearing a gray sweater, slightly form fitting but not tight, and it cast his green eyes in a smoky haze. Memory suddenly felt far too warm.

Tugging at the sleeve of her white coat, she tried to pull her arm out and almost knocked her fist against the table. Images of latte all over both of them had her eyes bulging. “Do you need some help?” he asked, and she could almost sense he was chuckling at her, not for the first time. She had sounded like a moron earlier, after all, when she couldn’t even address him without mixing her words all up.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” she said, though she was beginning to wonder why her coat hated her. She finally got the first sleeve off, realized it had been caught on her watch, fixed her sleeve where it was tucked under the band now, and then used her free hand to pull off the other sleeve, balling up her coat and her scarf and plunking them next to her. She shook her head at the offending article as if it should’ve known better than to cross her. “Uh... what?”

He pressed his lips together, that amusement dancing about his mouth evident, though he was trying to hide it. “I asked how long you’ve owned the shop.”

“Right. Well, my grandma bought it when I was young,” she explained, noting he still hadn’t tried his drink. “I started working there with her as soon as I was tall enough to see over the counter and reach the shelves. I’ve always loved it there.”

His smile morphed as he recognized her fondness for the store. “Did your grandma choose the name?”

“She did. She didn’t choose my name, though. My mom named me right before she died.” Memory cleared her throat and picked up her cup realizing she was talking about the two people she’d loved and lost and hoping they could find a way to switch to a cheerier topic. “Mom said I would be her memory.”

“That’s really sweet,” Dak said, his eyes shifting to the familiar “I’m sorry for your loss” expression she always got when she spoke of her mother, and lately, of her grandmother. “It’s really a beautiful name.”

“Thank you. My mom was a beautiful person. Not that I ever really met her. I’ve seen lots of pictures of her, though. Although....” Memory stopped. A thought had entered her head, an image she almost mentioned. Dak seemed so familiar to her, it almost seemed normal that she would bring it up to him, but remembering that she had just met him, she stopped herself short of sharing something so personal and said, “Although, I lost my grandma in January, so now I’m her memory, too.”

“Oh, no. Memory, I’m so sorry to hear that.” He shook his head, as if he was truly affected by her revelation. “How terrible. How are you coping?”

She picked up her cup and took a sip, not sure how to respond. He finally lifted his and stared at it for a second before he moved it to his lips and tested it out. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he drank a little more. “Well?”

Dak held the cup back a ways and looked at it. “It’s not terrible,” he said, cocking his head to the side slightly. He took another sip. “It’s not the greatest, though.”

Memory smiled at him, letting a small giggle escape. “It’s good. You just don’t want to admit it.”

He laughed and took another drink, not admitting anything but not denying it either. He opened his mouth, and she supposed he was about to change the subject. Memory wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She’d wanted to tell him the truth—that she missed Grandma Helen so much her heart ached, that she wished she could move past it and get on with her life, but as long as she had the issues with the house, as long as the shop wasn’t making enough to pay for some help, she didn’t know how she was going to ever move on.