“But it’s not about the coffee,” Nan said. “You said so yourself—it’s a little break that helps you get through the day.”
“Right,” Monica said. “As hard as you’re working, you need to get out now and then—breathe some fresh air, rub elbows with humanity, meet people.”
“Why would I need people when I have you?”
I’d intended it as a joke, but Monica didn’t laugh. Maybe it was my delivery. I’ve never been much good at telling jokes. Jamie used to double over laughing when I tried because I was always mixing up the punch lines. For years, all I had to say was, “Then one muffin turned to the other and said, ‘Got any grapes?’ ” and he would laugh so hard tears came to his eyes. Monica’s a tougher audience.
“I should go help Alex with the dishes,” she said, but then the kitchen door swung open and Alex entered.
“You’re too slow,” he said. “I already finished.”
“Aha! My evil plan worked!”
Monica rubbed her hands together and let out a maniacal laugh. Alex rolled his eyes and set down a plate of chocolate brownies.
“I found the recipe online. Tell me what you think.”
“I don’t know,” Monica said, eyeing the brownies with pretended distrust. “Aren’t you the kid who got suspended for peddling suspicious substances outside the library? Is there oregano in these brownies?”
“Ha. Ha,” Alex deadpanned. “Did anyone ever tell you that you should consider a career in comedy? No? There might be a reason for that.”
Monica grinned. “Too soon?”
“Way too soon,” Alex said. But he smiled when he said it.
Chapter 14
Grace
“So, that’s a chipotle chicken Panini, a fruit cup, and a grande nonfat latte.”
“And a cookie,” I said, my stomach rumbling as I peered into the bakery case. “Chocolate chip.”
“And a cookie.” The girl in the green apron tapped another number into the register. “That’ll be sixteen dollars and ten cents.”
“Sixteen dollars?”
The girl bobbed her head, looking apologetic. “At least there’s no sales tax in Oregon.”
True. But sixteen dollars? I thought about canceling my order and going over to Alder Street to see if I could find something cheaper at one of the food carts, but Gavin was on even more of a tear than usual. I had to be back in twenty minutes. What to do?
Once again, my growling stomach made up my mind for me. I dug out my debit card, stuck it in the reader, and keyed in my code. The transaction was rejected—lack of funds.
“No worries,” the girl said after I mumbled an apology, explaining that I got paid tomorrow. “It’s tight at the end of the month. Do you have cash? A credit card?”
I pulled out my wallet and handed over eleven dollars in bills, then started digging around the bottom of my purse, searching for change, but was only able to come up with an additional $1.87.
“Cancel the coffee—no, wait! The cookie. I need caffeine more than sugar.”
She tapped more numbers into the register. The line of customers behind me was growing longer and more impatient. When she announced the new total, still a dollar and a half more than what I had, someone behind me groaned. Someone else said, “Hang on. I got this.”
A man stepped out of line and handed the girl thirty dollars. By this time, my face was bright red. I felt so conspicuous and humiliated that I couldn’t bring myself to look up. So it wasn’t until he said, “Add another coffee onto that order, please. Tall drip,” that I realized the voice belonged to Luke Pascal.
Mortified, I looked up at him and said, “I can’t let you pay for my food.”
“Well, somebody better do it,” said a man wearing red too-short shorts and a pair of Birkenstock sandals paired with white athletic socks, the same man who had groaned before. “Could you move it along? I’m growing old here.”
Luke gave him a genuinely withering glance. The man, suddenly quiet, stared at his sandals. Luke turned back toward the girl.
“And if it’s not too much trouble,” he said in that polite but commanding teacher voice, “I’d like my coffee extra hot. Thank you.”
After she handed him back the change and the cookie, Luke shoved two dollars into the tip jar. Two minutes later, we were sitting at a table in a corner, Luke sipping his coffee while I wolfed down my Panini.
“I’m paying you back,” I said between bites. “I get paid tomorrow.”
“Not necessary. But you can if it’ll make you feel better.”
He was silent, watching me eat, making me feel even more conspicuous than I had been with the eyes of all those people on me, watching while I grubbed around in my purse for change I didn’t have.
“Would you please quit staring at me?”
“Sorry.” He ducked his head and took a drink from his cup. “It’s just . . . you must be really hungry. Did you eat today?”
I shook my head and swallowed quickly, to avoid talking with my mouth full. “I accidentally left my lunch on the kitchen counter. And my boss just got asked to give a big presentation at a corporate sales conference the week after next. Somebody else dropped out at the last minute. The good news, at least for me, is that he’ll be in Chicago and out of my hair for four whole days. The bad news is, I’ve got to create thirty-three super-slick slides for his presentation, with all kinds of charts and graphs, and I’ve never used the design software before.”
Luke’s eyebrows arched. “Does your boss know that?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, maybe you should tell him. I’m sure he could find somebody else to do it.”
“I don’t want him to find somebody else to do it. I’m trying to be indispensable.”
His brows arched even higher. “Well, that sounds exhausting.”
“It is. Hey, do you know what time it is?” I
