Page 7 of After the Rain

THREE

COFFEE AND CURIOSITY

WADE

I stared at Ezra's email for the fifth time in ten minutes, analyzing every word like it was a complex structural blueprint.

Hi Wade,

Thanks for following up about Cooper's field trip. Everything looks good with his permission slip. If you have any other questions about his adjustment or ways to support his learning at home, I'd be happy to discuss over coffee sometime this week if that's convenient.

Best, Ezra Mitchell

Professional. Helpful teacher offering to support concerned parent. Nothing unusual about that.

So why was I overthinking it?

I closed my laptop and pushed back from my desk. What was wrong with me? I'd been divorced for six weeks, barely adjusting to single parenthood. Cooper's education was important—that's all this was about.

Ezra seemed like a dedicated teacher who genuinely cared about his students. Cooper talked about him constantly, always with enthusiasm. The man was clearly good at his job, and Cooper was thriving in his classroom.

"Important client email?" Marcus's voice made me jump. He was standing in my office doorway with that expression he got when he was trying to figure out if I was having some kind of breakdown.

"Just school stuff. Cooper's teacher."

"Must be some pretty intense school stuff. You've been staring at that screen for fifteen minutes."

Had I really been that obvious?

"Just want to make sure I'm supporting Cooper's education properly." Which was true. Cooper's kindergarten experience was crucial, and I wanted to be an engaged parent.

Marcus raised an eyebrow but didn't push. "When you're done with your intensive educational research, we need to review the Henderson timeline."

After he left, I pulled the email back up. Meeting outside school seemed practical—we could talk freely about Cooper's needs without the time constraints of morning drop-off. The fact that he'd signed it with his first name was just professional courtesy.

I started typing a response, deleted it, started again.

Coffee sounds great. I'd love to discuss Cooper's adjustment and any ways I can better support his learning at home. Are you free after school any day this week?

Professional. Focused on Cooper. Completely legitimate.

I hit send before I could second-guess myself.

My email pinged back quickly.

How about tomorrow after school? Moonbeam Diner around 4:00? Looking forward to it. Ezra

I read the message twice. Good—we'd have time to discuss Cooper's development properly.

Either way, I had a coffee meeting about my son's education. That's all this was.

The next day felt long, but that was probably just anticipation about getting useful insights into Cooper's educational needs. I caught myself checking the clock during a client call with the Henderson family, eager to wrap up work so I could focus on the meeting.

"Wade?" Mrs. Henderson's voice snapped me back to the present. "Did you hear my question about the kitchen renovation timeline?"

"Sorry, yes. The cabinet installation should be completed by the end of next week." I scrambled to find my notes, hoping I was giving accurate information.

Marcus shot me a look that clearly said we'd be having words later.

After the Hendersons left, he cornered me in the break room. "Okay, what's going on with you today? You just gave clients a timeline estimate without consulting your project notes."

I poured myself coffee I didn't want, buying time. "Just tired. Cooper was up late with a nightmare."

Not entirely a lie. Cooper had woken up around eleven asking for water, claiming he'd dreamed about giant dinosaurs. But he'd gone back to sleep easily.

"Is everything okay with him? The divorce stuff still affecting him?"

Marcus had been supportive throughout my separation, offering to babysit when I needed to meet with lawyers. His concern was genuine.

"He's actually doing really well. Loves his teacher, seems happy at school. I'm meeting with Mr. Mitchell this afternoon to discuss his progress."

"That's good. You seem like you're adjusting better too."

The observation surprised me. "Yeah? How so?"

"You seem less wound up. Like you're not carrying the world on your shoulders anymore."

I considered that as I headed back to my desk.

Marcus wasn't wrong. The constant tension that had characterized the last few years of my marriage had largely disappeared.

I still worried about Cooper, about money, about making the right choices as a single parent.

But the exhausting effort of trying to be someone I wasn't had ended with my marriage.

Maybe that's why I felt optimistic about this meeting with Ezra. For the first time in years, I was talking to someone who seemed genuinely interested in Cooper's wellbeing without any hidden agenda.

At three o'clock, I headed home to change out of my work clothes, trading my button-down for a casual polo shirt. Professional but not too formal for a coffee meeting.

The Moonbeam was busy with the usual after-school crowd. I picked a booth near the window and ordered coffee while trying to calm my nervous energy.

The waitress, a woman whose name tag read "Dolores," filled my mug. "You meeting someone, hon?"

"Yeah, in a few minutes."

"First date?" She winked at me.

"No, just... a meeting. About my son's education."

"Uh-huh." Dolores didn't look convinced.

When Ezra walked through the door at exactly four o'clock, something in my chest tightened.

Seeing him outside the context of school, dressed in dark jeans and a soft gray sweater instead of his classroom attire, made him seem more real somehow. More human. The afternoon light highlighted the gold in his blonde hair, and when he spotted me and smiled, I felt that flutter again.

Relief washed over me. He looked genuinely pleased to see me, not like someone fulfilling a professional obligation. His smile reached his eyes, and there was warmth in his expression that made me think maybe I hadn't been imagining the connection between us.

I stood to greet him, unsure of the etiquette for this not-quite-professional, not-quite-personal meeting. We shook hands, and I noticed how his palm felt warm and solid against mine, how our eyes held contact a moment longer than necessary.

"Thanks for making time for this," I said as we settled into the booth.

“You’re welcome. I always enjoy getting to know my students' families better."

But there was something in his tone that suggested this was about more than standard parent-teacher relationship building.

Dolores appeared with a coffee pot. "What can I get you, hon?" she asked Ezra.

"Just coffee, thanks. Black."

"You boys want anything to eat? Apple pie's fresh today."

I glanced at Ezra, who hesitated. "I should probably just stick with coffee."

"The pie here is actually really good," I said, then immediately felt awkward.

"Well..." Ezra smiled, but there was something uncertain in it. "Maybe just a small piece."

"Two pieces," I told Dolores, surprising myself.

After she left, an awkward silence settled between us. This was harder than I'd expected—sitting across from each other without the buffer of Cooper or the structure of a school conference.

"So," I said finally, then realized I had no idea how to finish that sentence.

"So," Ezra echoed, and I caught the hint of amusement in his voice.

"Small towns. Everyone knows everyone's business."

"You're not kidding. I'm still getting used to that after Portland."

"What was the transition like?"

Ezra stirred sugar into his coffee. "Bigger adjustment than I expected. In the city, you can be anonymous. Here..." He gestured around the diner. "Well, here we are, and half the town probably knows we're having coffee by dinnertime."

"Does that bother you?"

"Sometimes." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Privacy is a luxury I didn't realize I'd taken for granted."

There was something in his tone that made me think there was more to that story, but before I could figure out how to ask, Dolores returned with our pie.

The interruption gave us both a moment to regroup, and when we started talking again, it felt easier.

"Cooper's been mentioning some challenging behavior from one of his classmates," I said, grateful to have landed on parenting territory.

We talked about Cooper's development, his emotional needs during the family transition, strategies for supporting his learning. The conversation felt safe, professional, but as we continued talking, I found myself noticing things about Ezra that had nothing to do with his teaching abilities.

The way he unconsciously adjusted his glasses when he was thinking deeply. How his hands moved when he explained concepts, like he was building ideas in the air. The fact that he left the pecans from his pie on the side of his plate.

"You don't like pecans?" I asked, then immediately felt stupid for noticing such a small detail.

Ezra looked down at his plate with surprise. "Texture thing, I guess."

"Not weird. Cooper does the same thing with mushrooms."

"Smart kid. Mushrooms are basically edible sponges."

I laughed, more relaxed than I'd felt since walking into the diner. "Sarah always said I was enabling his picky eating by agreeing with him about foods I don't like."

“Sarah is the Ex-wife?"

"Yeah."

Ezra nodded but didn't push for details. "How's Cooper handling it?"

"Better than I expected. He has moments of sadness, but overall he seems almost relieved. Like the tension he was picking up on before is gone now."

"Kids are perceptive about adult emotions. Sometimes divorce is less stressful for them than an unhappy marriage."

There was something in the way Ezra said it that made me think he might be speaking from experience.

"You really love what you do," I said, watching his face as he talked about child development.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Cooper talks about you like you hung the moon. And watching you explain things... yeah, it's obvious."