Page 37 of Rich Girl
“Hello, what can I get you?” A human materializes out of nowhere.
“Medium black. No sugar. No cream.”
I am short and to the point, which only seems to amuse the person behind the counter.
“You got it.”
He turns around and gets to work, filling up a medium-sized paper cup, no sugar or cream, just as I asked. He puts a lid on it and slides it over the counter where I stand with my card ready to pay.
“It’s on the house,” he winks at me. “I can tell you’re not from around here.”
I stare at him in surprise. Not like I never got a free cup of coffee before, but never for no apparent reason other than I was a visitor in their little town.
“Thank you very much.” I look through my purse. “I don’t have any cash to tip you. I was going to put that on the card,” I explain.
“No worries,” he shrugs. “With the fees the banks charge, it would cost me more to run your card than to give you the cup for free.”
I feel instantly offended, only because I thought he was trying to be nice. Turns out, he was just looking not to go broke. Okay,I guess that’s a good enough reason. I’m just not used to the practicality side of it.
“I appreciate it, nonetheless.” I try to give him my best smile. “Is it okay if I sit out front for a minute?” I point toward where the bench is.
“Knock yourself out.”
I nod in thanks and walk outside where I make myself comfortable on the bench. I stretch my legs and point my toes, admiring the espadrilles I have on. They are my most comfortable shoes despite the look Ray gave me when he first saw me walking in them. He didn’t think they’d work. But they have a wedge platform that is very easy to walk in.
The first sip of coffee goes down smoothly, soothing my soul. Good thing I don’t eat breakfast, I would’ve been starving to death by now. Ray didn’t give me time to do much once he got the call that he had to leave.
I am so into my own head that I don’t even notice people approaching from down the sidewalk.
“Hello,” one of them addresses me.
The woman standing in front of me looks like she is dying to talk to me for some odd reason. She is accompanied by her friend who is pushing a stroller.
“I’m Evie.” She gives me a super friendly smile. “This is my friend, Carrie.” She points to the other woman. “And her little baby boy.” She points to the stroller.
The surprise on my face must be obvious because, suddenly, she looks apologetic.
“I am so sorry. We didn’t mean to ambush you like this. But we could tell you’re not from around here. And we’re dying to know who you’re visiting.”
“How can you tell I’m not from here?”
They both have the decency to look embarrassed. But seriously, do I have a sign on my forehead that says out of towner?
“Your hair,” Carrie starts first. “It’s beautiful.”
I chuckle at hearing that. “Your hair is very pretty, too.”
Carrie puts a hand to her head, pushing the mass of hair behind one ear.
“Evie made me stop.” She talks fast and like she’s telling me this huge secret. “She’s the godmother to my baby. I had no choice.”
“Carrie,” her friend looks at her in shock, jaw slack. “I can’t believe you’d throw me under the bus like this!”
“I didn’t know what to say,” Carrie whines. Her fingers wrap around the handle of the stroller, pushing it back and forth like it’s a nervous tic.
Evie rolls her eyes at her friend, but then she bursts into laughter.
“I was going to comment on her shoes. They really are very pretty.”
