Page 29 of Taken from Her
The afternoon light streaming through the café windows felt warmer today, as if the weather, too, felt the shift between them. Lavender arranged chairs in a large circle, her hands moving through familiar motions while her mind drifted to this morning's goodbye kiss and the way Diana’s lips lingered on hers.
She caught herself touching her mouth and quickly reached for the stack of handouts instead. Community safety strategies, resource lists, and emergency protocols—all the practical measures that would help people feel more secure while their community was still threatened. The aromatherapy diffuser released a gentle eucalyptus scent into the air, a conscious choice to counteract the tension that had been building in her community for weeks.
Saffron supervised from his perch on the counter, green eyes tracking her movements with feline curiosity. Basil wove between her legs as she moved between tables, both cats sensing the restless energy she was trying to channel into productive preparation.
Her phone buzzed against the counter. Diana's name on the screen made her pulse quicken despite the professional tone of the message:Confirmed for tonight's workshop. Planning on a 6 p.m. arrival.
Lavender typed back carefully:Looking forward to our collaboration.
The words felt absurdly formal given that twelve hours ago they'd been tangled in her sheets, Diana's careful control dissolving into desperate need. But tonight would be different. Tonight, they would have to navigate the space between personal connection and professional cooperation, all while her community watched.
The café door chimed, and Georgia Darricott entered with her silver hair perfectly arranged and sharp gaze that missed nothing. Lavender's stomach fluttered. If anyone would notice the change in her energy, it would be Georgia.
"Early setup today," Georgia observed, settling into her usual armchair with the authority of someone who'd claimed the best vantage point in every room she'd ever entered.
"I figured people might need extra time to process," Lavender replied, adjusting the flip chart paper for the third time. Her hands felt unsteady, hyperaware of every gesture under Georgia's evaluating stare.
"Mmm." Georgia's eyes swept the room, taking in the carefully arranged materials, the way Lavender had positioned chairs to encourage both intimate conversation and larger group dynamics. "You seem different this afternoon. Good different."
Heat rose in Lavender's cheeks. "Just focused on making tonight productive."
"Of course." Georgia's smile was knowing. "Though I suspect tonight will be interesting for reasons beyond community safety." She paused. "You know," Georgia said, her voice gentle but pointed, "transparency has always been one of yourstrengths. But some things need time to develop before they're ready for community scrutiny."
Lavender looked up from her phone, meeting Georgia's understanding gaze. "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" Georgia stood, moving toward the memorial corner where photos of Tara, Isabel, and Joanna watched over the space. "I've been watching this community for seventy years, dear. I've seen how personal happiness can enhance leadership, and I've seen how trying to hide it can create unnecessary complications."
"Georgia—"
"Whatever's put that glow in your cheeks and steadied your shoulders, nurture it." Georgia's voice carried decades of wisdom. "This community needs you strong and centered, not torn between responsibility and joy."
Lavender felt something loosen in her chest. Georgia wasn't warning her away from personal connection; she was encouraging its integration.
"It's complicated," Lavender admitted.
"The best things usually are." Georgia moved toward the door as other community members began arriving. "But Lavender? Trust your instincts. They've never steered you wrong."
As the afternoon progressed, Lavender found herself stealing glances at the clock. Now with the workshop materials organized, seating arranged, and refreshments prepared, everything was ready except her own emotional equilibrium. In two hours, Diana would walk through that purple door, and Lavender would have to facilitate meaningful community discussion while her heart raced at the memory of Diana's touch.
She lit candles around the memorial corner, the small ritual helping center her scattered thoughts. Tonight would test everything: her leadership, their new relationship, and herability to serve her community while honoring the connection that was already changing how she moved through the world.
Outside, Phoenix Ridge settled into evening, harbor lights beginning to twinkle as darkness approached. Soon, the café would fill with voices seeking safety and connection, and Lavender would have to prove that personal happiness could support rather than compromise her service to them.
She touched her lips once more before she straightened her shoulders.
By six o’clock, the cafe hummed with quiet conversation. Corinne sat near the window, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced in the evening light. Three weeks without Joanna had aged her in ways that made Lavender’s chest ache. Elle and Hazel claimed the couch by the back wall, their heads bent together over their phones, probably coordinating the buddy system they’d been developing since the disappearances started.
Sam looked up from her tablet when Lavender approached with coffee. “Any word from the police today?”
“Chief Marten should have updates when she arrives,” Lavender said, proud of how steady her voice sounded.
“She’s really coming?” Racquel twisted in her chair. “Last week she seemed…”
“Stiff,” Jordan finished. “Like she was reading from a script.”
Lavender refilled their cups, hyperaware of the clock on the wall. Five minutes past six. Diana was never late.
The purple door opened.
