“I don’t know about you, but one cup of coffee was not nearly enough.”
“Blackbeard’s it is,” Connor said with a smile, running ahead of me to open the door for me.
Ugh, I groaned internally.Please don’t start being a gentleman today.
I was fairly certain I couldn’t handle any more of Connor’s antics. Why hadn’t I suggested Kameron accompany me to pick up raffle prizes today?
Luckily, Blackbeard’s was only a block away from my house. Even though the investors had eventually abandoned the idea of Watford Lofts, only finishing five units before abandoning the project altogether, they had the right idea. In a larger town, these modern lofts would have been a colossal hit with the influencer-type. Luckily for me, the developers wanted to cut their losses, and I ended up purchasing the condo for far cheaper than expected.
Connor held the door to Blackbeard’s open, and I stepped inside, waving to Kyrie.
“Oh, hi, Abbie!” she said, her face lighting up with a genuine joy that only existed in teenagers. I returned her warm smile.
“Hey, Kyrie. Can I get a medium vanilla latte? And one of the blueberry scones, if you have them.”
“Of course,” she said, grabbing a cup from the middle stack and writing my name on it. “And for you, sir?”
Connor choked on his spit at the ‘sir,’ and I barely stifled a laugh. We weren’t much older than Kyrie, but there was nothing as devastating as being called old by someone only a few years your junior.
“He’ll have a black coffee,” I jumped in, saving Connor from himself. I pushed him toward the ‘pick-up’ sign at the other end of the sleek coffee bar, pulling out my card to pay.
“Nice try,” Connor leaned down to whisper, handing Kyrie his card instead. “You’re not as slick as you think you are.”
“Evidently not,” I said, smiling.
Once we had our coffees in hand, we took a seat in the window booth that overlooked the main street. Things picked up outside, with hungry churchgoers heading to grab lunch after service. We drank our coffees in a comfortable silence, waiting for some of the crowd that had trickled in behind us to disburse. When there was a lull in traffic, I jumped back in line to speak with Kyrie.
“Kyrie, do you know when Phillipa will be in? We’re putting together the fifty-fifth anniversary Founder’s Day festival, and we’re trying to get some local businesses in Watford to take part, either as vendors or by donating a raffle prize or two.”
Kyrie let out a squeak of excitement that had me jumping out of my skin in surprise.
“Oh. My.God,” she crooned, vibrating with excitement. “I’ve heard rumors about the festival, but no one could confirm whether it was really happening.”
I offered her a small smile. “The Watford Town Council will make their formal announcement by the end of this week.”
“I’m sure Phillipa would love to take part however she can. This is so exciting, Abbie! I’ll pass on the info to her when she comes in later.”
“Amazing, thanks, Kyrie. Could you have her shoot me an email or call me as soon as she can? We’re on a ridiculously tight deadline for the festival, given some administrative hiccups that were out of our control. I’d love to have a definitive answer within the next week if she can manage it.”
Kyrie nodded aggressively, and I made a mental note to personally follow up with Phillipa in the next two days if I didn’t hear from her beforehand. Not that I didn’t trust Kyrie to give her the message, but I wanted to be sure Phillipa had all the relevant information before she signed up either way. As much as I loved Kyrie, she was easily distracted—often because one Kevin Phillips was always ready to whisk her away.
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Connor and I left Blackbeard’s and headed towards Forest Grove Books, a local staple that had been around just as long as Watford General—if not longer. The small bookshop was owned by Mari Pearson, an elderly woman with a gentle spirit, kind demeanor, and a knack for giving the best book recommendations.
The small bell above the door chimed as Connor and I walked in. Mari gave us a small wave from where she was hunched over the counter, stamping a pile of books. This was one of the many reasons I loved shopping small—little touches of personality that went into everything a small business owner did for their customers. Mari pressed a ‘From the Forest Grove Library’ stamp into the inner cover of every book she sold. A lifetime marking of where this book had once lived before it found its way into homes across the world.
“Hello, lovebirds,” Mari said, and I let out an awkward laugh that was far too harsh for the small space. Mari simply shook her head and waved me forward. “I heard you were back, Connor. It’s good to see you, young man.”
Connor gave her a warm nod. “Thank you, Mari. It’s very good to see you as well. Mind if I look around?”
“By all means,” Mari said, and Connor turned on his heel, disappearing into the haphazardly organized and precariously stacked books.
“He turned out to be a hunk,” Mari whispered conspiratorially to me as soon as Connor was out of earshot.
“Mari,” I gasped in mock outrage, shaking my head. “I’ll have you know he was always a hunk.”
“That he was,” Mari said, her eyes crinkling with amusement at the corners. “Too bad for the other girls that he only ever had eyes for you.”
I flushed, waving her off with a dismissive hand.