Now that Henrietta was late, it meant she would have to stay back at the cafe and make up her hours. It also meant she would be late for Marcia’s. Marcia would blow a gasket. No, Marcia would do more than that; Marcia would have a full-on shouting match with Henrietta on the porch, and then hop online to tell all of her friends what a beast Henrietta was.
Unfortunately, Marcia was still family.
Henrietta put on a burst of speed, trying to catch the pedestrian light before it flicked to red. She didn’t make it. When she considered jaywalking – running across the street and taking her chance with the cars – there was a gruff laugh by her side.
“I know you’re late, Henrietta, but I have to point out that breaking the law in front of a policeman is never a good idea.”
She turned to see Patrick. Patrick Black. The same Patrick Black who had dated Marcia for an entire three months, which was Marcia’s world record for the duration of any relationship.
Patrick Black was tall, handsome, and had the kind of build that could reassure any woman. He was also courteous, and had one of those perfect smiles that made you think he’d practiced for hours and hours in front of the mirror as a teenager.
“How’s your sister?”
She forced her lips to play nice, and she offered Patrick a controlled smile. “Oh, you know, Marcia is always Marcia.”
She waited. There was only one question Patrick would ask next. It was the same question he always asked.
His eyes narrowed in interest.
“No, she isn’t seeing anyone,” she got there first.
“Oh, ah, how did you know…?” He patted down his hair.
Basic experience with the male race, she wanted to answer. Instead she put all her effort into maintaining a smile. She’d lied to a police officer. Whilst Marcia wasn’t seeing anyone seriously, she was seeing men. Yes, men – more than one – Because Marcia tended to play the field all at once. To her, the idea of having one boyfriend at any given time was boring. Why juggle with one pin, when you can juggle with 10?
“So, how is—” he began.
Once again she got there first. “Dad’s fine, so is Mum.”
Patrick gave a light chuckle, his brow crumpling in a wince. “Am I that predictable?”
Something beeped, and she turned to see the pedestrian light flashing green. She turned back to Patrick, shrugged, gestured wide, and nodded. “Sorry, Patrick, but one of these days you’ll have to ask me about quantum physics or how my pot plants are, to break the mold.”
With that, Henrietta Gosling walked across the street, leaving the confused Patrick Black to figure out what she’d said.
When she made it through the beautiful sanded-down, rustic doors of Sizzle Cafe, it was already 9:35 AM. The second her soft ballet shoes padded onto the polished floorboards, was the second the cafe’s owner, the diminutive Maria, came whirling out of the backroom, her teeth clenched as she grappled with the string of white pearls around her neck.
It was never a good sign when Maria was manhandling her favorite pearls.
Henrietta gave her most apologetic grimace as Maria rounded on her.
“Late again.” Maria shook her head. “If you weren’t the best barista I have, Henrietta, I would have fired you yesterday. Now put your bag down, get your apron on, and get to work.”
Henrietta nodded and ran for the back room before Maria could give her another serving.
Minutes later she set herself up behind the whopping imported Italian coffee machine. Tying her apron around her middle, she looked up and through the massive plate-glass windows at the front of the store. The sky was now clear.
Her lips twitched into a thin frown. When she’d run to work this morning, the sky had been spitting and the wind roaring. Now the sky was clear, the wind gone, and the sun bright and warm.
It figured. Henrietta was an unlucky girl.
It wasn’t until 12:30 that anything interesting happened. As she made an espresso for the Fire Chief, she looked up to see a man entering the store.
Just before she looked up, she felt a peculiar tingling sensation prickle the skin on the back of her neck. It was slight, it was sudden, and it was quick. It was over in the blink of an eye, but it served its purpose; she looked up at the right moment.
The stranger by the door flashed her a smile. It wasn’t a dashing smile, it wasn’t the kind of smile Patrick Black had practiced in front of the mirror. No, it was awkward, crinkled, and graceless.
Blinking, she surveyed him. It was impossible to guess his age or race. He could have been anywhere from 20 to 40. He had the kind of face that looked as though it never aged, but that couldn’t be said for his clothes. He was under 6 foot, but his clothes had been made for a man twice his size. They hung off him in great swathes of calico and cotton, the style reminiscent of a monk’s tunic and pants. Over the top was a full-length leather jacket.
He looked like someone out of a movie, maybe a vampire hunter or something as ridiculous, except one wearing hand-me-down clothes from a giant.
He had a wide, large face, and that was about all that could be said for it. His features were nondescript. He didn’t have the kind of handsome face that would set him apart from the crowd, in fact he didn’t have any feature that was worth noting at all. He looked normal. He had a nose, drab brown eyes, and far too much stubble collecting over his chin and top lip.
He
