Page 1 of The Uncomplicated Café
Chapter One
CECE
CeCe Dupree sprinkledcinnamon over the creamy coconut milk latte, keeping an eye on the mysterious man at the corner table. He’d frequented her café every morning for the last five days, soaking up the summer sun that filtered through the ample front window. Always alone, he barely spoke a word, except to place his beverage order. He requested something different each day, ranging from a strong black coffee to a frothy cappuccino. Now, he’d moved on to the fancier drinks.
As a fellow introvert, CeCe wouldn’t normally mind a man of few words who kept to himself. But there was something about this particular patron—who had yet to reveal his name—that piqued her curiosity. And, honestly, her concern. His muddied brown eyes bore a sadness so deep, one glance made her chest tighten.
“Here you go.” She slid the cheery lemon-yellow mug onto the table with her friendliest smile. “One coconut milk latte, extra hot.”
“Thank you.” Without meeting her gaze, he dug a hand into the pocket of his worn Levi’s. A rough hand with deep grooves and dark freckles. A hand befitting a day laborer who worked long hours in the hot sun, not the gaunt, rail-thin man seatedbefore her. She guessed him to be about forty, maybe younger, but his pallid appearance made it difficult to pinpoint an age.
“Can I get you anything else?” She wanted to feed him half the pastries in her shop. His thin shoulders filled out the faded gray T-shirt about as well as a metal coat hanger.
“No, thank you.” He set a small irregular-shaped stone on the table, freeing both hands to cradle the oversize cup. The smooth sliver of sea glass gleamed in the sun, enhancing its soft aqua sheen.
CeCe had noticed the trinket before but never had the courage to mention it. Until today. “It’s beautiful.” She nodded toward the stone. “Aqua is my favorite color of sea glass. According to legend, it’s the color most coveted by mermaids and is thought to bring good luck.”
“Not this one,” he muttered under his breath. The melancholy words mingled with the steam wafting from his mug, but any further explanation was silenced by his first sip.
Should she ask him what he meant by his mumbled statement? Or leave well enough alone? Before she could decide, the bell above the front door jangled.
Abigail Preston, one of her dearest friends, waved as she stepped inside.
“Excuse me.” CeCe left Mystery Man to welcome her friend with a hug.
Abby’s shoulder-length brown waves felt warm against her cheek and smelled of sunshine and salty sea air. When she pulled back, her expressive hazel eyes shone with all the joyful radiance of a woman in love. “Is there anything more beautiful than summer in Blessings Bay?”
CeCe laughed at her friend’s blissful exuberance. Abby had moved to the small Northern California town in early December, making this summer her first taste of the season. While CeCe couldn’t deny her hometown’s quintessential charm, she had afeeling Abby’s euphoric mood could be attributed to more than the idyllic weather. “Only two weeks left until the big day! How are the wedding plans coming along?”
“The biggest task left is the cake.”
“I think I can help you with that.” CeCe led the way to the long counter lined with spotless glass display cases. Nearly every pastry imaginable, from classic cupcakes and eclairs to more unexpected offerings like plantain tarts and Jamaican rum cake, filled the shelves.
Abby settled at one of the tall barstools while CeCe ducked into the kitchen and returned with a tray of three miniature cakes, each one a delightfully different flavor.
“He’s here again?” Abby whispered, nodding over her shoulder at Mystery Man, who stared blankly out the window, sipping his latte. Only a few tables away, he could probably overhear their conversation if they didn’t take care to lower their voices.
“Five days in a row,” CeCe whispered back.
“It looks like he’s waiting for someone,” Abby observed with a sympathetic frown.
“It does. But no one ever shows up.”
“How sad. Do you think I should introduce myself? See if he’s new in town?”
CeCe smiled. That was so like her magnanimous friend. Abby owned the only bed-and-breakfast in Blessings Bay, which she ran with her characteristic hospitality. “You could try. You might have better luck than I’ve had. But first, let’s decide on your wedding cake. Is Logan coming?” As business partners who ran the inn together, as well as a newly engaged couple planning a wedding in a short time frame, the pair didn’t do much apart these days.
“No, he couldn’t make it. He said I could decide without him. As long as it doesn’t include pineapple.”
“I’ve got you covered. Not a shred of pineapple to be found.” CeCe nudged the tray closer to her friend, her heartbeat fluttering as Abby surveyed the three one-of-a-kind offerings. Abby had specifically asked for an untraditional selection. Instead of the more common rich and sugary cakes with layers of thick fondant icing, she wanted something subtly sweet and unexpected. CeCe had relished the challenge.
“They all look incredible,” Abby gushed. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Try this one first.” CeCe handed her a fork, gesturing toward the third cake with its golden coconut flakes and artfully drizzled glaze. Her personal favorite. Why save the best for last? She wiped a smudge of flour from her wire-rimmed glasses, not wanting to miss a nuance of Abby’s expression when she sampled her first bite.
Ever since she was a little girl, mirroring her mother as they made their family’s traditional Caribbean recipes, she’d loved creating culinary magic. They’d tie their wayward black curls into messy buns but wouldn’t bother with aprons. Or, heaven forbid, gloves. They’d meticulously wash their hands, of course, but according to her mother, food should be touched—it should be felt all the way from the fingertips to the depths of a person’s soul.
CeCe smiled at the mental image of her mother, elbow deep in a bowl of boiled sweet potato. While she mashed, she’d smear a dollop of the burnt orange paste onto each cheek, claiming it kept her skin youthful. Considering her mother’s smooth, dark complexion had hardly a wrinkle, even in her sixties, CeCe was inclined to believe the beauty hack worked.
