Page 33 of A Magnolia Move-In
I wasn’t sure I wanted them to fix me, but I was grateful she was trying to help.
“Thanks,” I whispered, surprised at how emotional her words made me.
I wanted to be strong enough to overcome this, but I wasn’t sure if that was a possibility anymore. Not when I felt as broken as I did right now.
Fiona pulled alongside a coffee shop and turned the car off. She smiled over at me. “I thought we could get some coffee first. I’ll introduce you to my mom.”
I nodded. I almost said I really had no choice but decided to bite my tongue. I was a nice person, usually. I wasn’t always going to be in this predicament. If I wanted to have good relationships when this was all over, I needed to keep myself from alienating those around me.
Thankfully, whatever issue Fiona had with the chair earlier was sorted out, and she was able to open it with minimal effort. Once I was situated, she slammed the passenger door and pushed me into the shop.
The aroma of coffee and cream filled my nose, and I inhaled deeply. Without the ability to drive, I hadn’t had a good coffee in ages. Oh, how I missed it.
“You have that look,” Fiona said as she parked me in front of the register and grinned.
“What look?”
“The look of a woman missing her favorite drink.”
I smiled. “You have an uncanny ability to read people.”
Before Fiona could respond, a woman who looked identical to her—just twenty years older—approached the register. She had on an apron and a soft, welcoming smile.
“Well, you’re new,” she said as she glanced over at Fiona.
“Mom, this is Naomi. She’s Jackson’s sister.” Fiona waved from me to her mom. “Naomi, this is my mom.”
“Call me Anna.”
I could tell where Fiona got her approachable demeanor. Anna was just as soft and warm as her daughter. “It’s nice to meet you.”
After introductions were over, Anna was all business. She took our drink orders and even threw in a few just-out-of-the-oven macadamia nut cookies on the house.
Fiona pushed me over to the table while Anna bustled around behind the counter, stirring and whipping up my smoothie and Fiona’s iced coffee.
I sat at the table, fingering the napkin my cookie sat on. It looked and smelled divine. I wanted to dive into it, and it was taking all of my strength not to.
“You can start,” Fiona said, waving toward my cookie.
“Did I look that desperate?” I asked as I broke off a chunk and slipped the whole thing in my mouth. The warm dough mixed with the salty nuts made all of my tastebuds sing with pleasure. “Oh my gosh,” I whispered. “This is amazing.”
Fiona laughed as she took a bite of her own. “You act like you haven’t had a homemade cookie before.”
I paused, trying to remember the last time I hadhomemade anything. My baking was limited to whatever I could make from a box. “It’s been years,” I said as I took another bite.
“Years?”
“Years.”
The look that passed over Fiona’s face had me worried for a moment. I wanted to make a good impression on the woman that had my brother falling over himself. Was she going to judge me?
“Our mom wasn’t a make-from-scratch kind of person,” I hurried to add.
Fiona nodded. “My mom is. I, unfortunately, was not blessed with that gene. But I’m learning.” She paused. “You can come over sometime, and Mom and I will teach you.”
I knew I should have said no. My head was screaming at me to back away, but I couldn’t. It was like my body could not physically form the word. So, instead, I smiled. “I’d like that.”
The look of joy that filled Fiona’s face was priceless.
