Page 27

CHAPTER 27

CASPIAN

The early morning light filters through Special Blend’s windows as I unlock the front door for Catherine. The bell above chimes softly—the same one that’s been there since before I was born, though I didn’t know that until recently.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Catherine says, bustling in with boxes of pastries balanced expertly in her arms. The scent of fresh baking fills the space, making my mouth water. “Ready for the big day?”

I take a deep breath, looking around at my coffee shop. Mine. The reality of it still hasn’t fully sunk in. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Here, let’s get these laid out,” she says, setting the boxes on the counter. “I made extra of the maple pecan danishes. They were one of Mac’s best sellers, so you’ll already have a captive audience.”

We work in comfortable silence for a while, arranging pastries in the display case. Catherine has an eye for presentation I’m grateful for—each item placed just so, creating an inviting array of treats.

“You know,” Catherine says as she adjusts a row of muffins, “your mother would be so proud of you.”

The mention of Mom makes my throat tight. “Yeah?”

Catherine pauses, her eyes soft with memory. “Oh yes. This was her dream too, you know.”

I nearly drop the scone I’m holding. “What do you mean?”

“Special Blend.” Catherine gestures around us. “Elena used to talk about it all the time when we were young. She’d say she was going to go away, become a famous singer, make her fortune…” She chuckles softly. “And then she’d come back here and buy Special Blend from Old Mac. She used to have a part-time job here, you know?”

I set down the scone carefully, trying to process this information. “She never told me that.”

“I thought that’s why you bought this place.”

“I wanted a coffee shop to honor her because I always felt she would have been amazing at running one, but I never knew…”

I shake my head as I look around the space with new eyes, imagining my mom as a teenager serving coffee between these same walls. Did she stand where I’m standing now? Did she laugh with customers at this very counter? Suddenly, the coffee shop feels different—more meaningful, more personal. It’s like she’s here with me today, her presence woven into the very fabric of this place.

Maybe that’s why it felt so right to buy Special Blend, why it immediately felt like home. Some part of me recognized what she had loved about it all those years ago.

“Maybe this was always meant to be,” I say softly, running my hand along the polished counter. “Me coming to Maplewood, taking over Special Blend…”

Catherine’s smile turns knowing. “And finding other reasons to stay?”

Heat rises to my cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She laughs warmly. “I saw the way my son looked at you at Lottie’s party. And the way you looked at him.” She pauses her arranging to meet my eyes. “I haven’t seen Nate look at anyone like that in a very long time.”

My heart flutters at her words. “I really like him, Catherine.” The admission comes easily, perhaps because she’s Nate’s mom or because she reminds me so much of my mother—warm, understanding, accepting.

“I know you do.” She puts the tongs down and pulls me into a tight hug. “And I couldn’t be happier for both of you.” When she pulls back, her eyes are misty. “If only Elena could see you now…”

“She can,” I say with certainty, feeling the truth in my bones. “She has to. After all, it’s because of her that I’m here in Maplewood at all.”

Catherine cups my face, just like Mom used to. “You’re right. Now, let’s finish up so we can open the doors and welcome all your customers. I have a feeling you’ll need all the help you can get during the morning rush.”

She’s not wrong. The moment I flip the CLOSED sign to OPEN , it seems like half of Maplewood pours through the door. The bell chimes constantly as people stream in, filling the shop with cheerful chatter and excitement. I love seeing familiar faces that have come in on the days I opened just for a few hours.

I lose myself in the rhythm of making drinks, grateful for my years of barista experience. Catherine proves invaluable, handling the register and keeping the line moving while I craft beverages.

“One maple latte with oat milk,” I call out, setting the drink on the counter. “And a pumpkin spice for Agnes!”

“Thank you, dear,” Agnes says, collecting both drinks. “The Rocktogenarians have become quite addicted to your special blends. We’re having band practice later. These will keep us going.”

It’s nearly noon when there’s finally a lull in the crowd. I’m wiping down the counter when the bell chimes again. I look up to see four men entering—two of them I recognize as Ben and Indy from the other day. The other two are the twins I didn’t get to meet at the grocery store.

“Can I have a hot chocolate, please?” a small voice asks from the other side of the counter, and I spot Bailey bouncing excitedly beside Ben.

“Can I have a cinnamon bun?” another child—this must be Tyler—asks, pressing his face against the display case.

The two men I haven’t met step forward, extending their hands. “I’m Tristan,” the first one says.

“And I’m Tate,” adds the second.

Something about them seems familiar, but I can’t quite place it.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, pushing away the odd feeling their intense gazes give me. “Welcome to Special Blend. What can I get for you?”

“Hot chocolate, please!” Bailey pipes up again, bouncing on his toes.

“Make that two hot chocolates,” Ben adds, ruffling Bailey’s hair. “And yes, Tyler, you can have a cinnamon bun.”

As I prepare their drinks, I notice Tristan and Tate watching me closely. It’s unnerving, but I focus on crafting the perfect hot chocolates, complete with whipped cream and a light dusting of cocoa powder.

“These look amazing,” Indy says as I hand over the drinks. He seems to be trying to ease some tension I don’t quite understand. “If you’d opened in Chester Falls, I’d have some serious competition.”

“How long have you been in Maplewood?” Tate asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Just a few weeks,” I reply, wrapping up Tyler’s cinnamon bun. “But it already feels like home.”

“Your mother was from here, wasn’t she?” Tristan’s question makes me pause.

“Yes, she was.” I look between them, that nagging feeling of familiarity growing stronger. “Did you know her?”

Ben clears his throat. “We should probably get these two their treats before the sugar crash hits,” he says, guiding Bailey toward a table. The moment breaks, and Tristan and Tate step back, though their eyes never leave my face.

“Thanks for coming in,” I say, forcing a smile despite my confusion. “I hope you enjoy everything.”

As they settle at a table near the window, I can’t shake the feeling that their visit isn’t just about coffee and pastries. And the question about my mom? Weird. Catherine catches my eye from where she’s restocking napkins, her expression concerned. I give her a reassuring nod, but my mind races with questions I can’t quite form.

The bell above the door chimes again, and this time, when I look up, my whole body relaxes as I see Nate. He’s bundled against the cold, his cheeks pink and his hair slightly mussed from the wind. His eyes find mine immediately, and the smile that spreads across his face makes my heart skip.

“Hey,” he says, making his way around the counter. He greets his mom with a quick kiss on the cheek, then comes around to my side. Before I can process what’s happening, he’s cupping my face and pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

Catherine’s delighted giggle makes us both pull back. Nate’s eyes widen slightly as if just realizing what he did.

“Oops,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We probably should have talked about how to tell people about us.”

I feel my cheeks heat but can’t stop smiling. “It’s okay. Your mom already knows.”

“What?” Nate looks between us. “How?”

“Oh, honey,” Catherine says, patting his cheek as she passes by with a tray of fresh pastries. “I’m your mother. I know you better than you think.”

Nate’s sheepish expression is adorable. “Fair enough.” He turns back to me, lowering his voice. “How’s the first day going?”

“Busy,” I say, leaning into him slightly. “But good. Really good.” I glance toward the table near the window, where Tristan and Tate are still watching us. “Though something weird just happened…”

Before I can explain, the bell chimes again and a new wave of customers floods in. Nate steps back, understanding in his eyes.

“I’ll grab a table and wait for the rush to die down,” he says. “Then you can tell me all about it.”

I nod gratefully, already turning to help the next customer. As I work, I catch glimpses of Nate reading a book at a corner table, occasionally looking up to meet my gaze with a soft smile.

“Excuse me?” a small voice pipes up from near my elbow. I look down to find Bailey standing there, clutching what appears to be a picture book from my small collection.

“Hi, Bailey.” I smile. “Did you find something you like?”

“Can I buy this, please?” He holds up the book—a beautifully illustrated story about a young bear finding his way home through a winter forest.

Ben appears behind his son, shaking his head with an amused smile. “Typical.” He chuckles. “I own a bookstore, but my son only ever wants books he sees in other places.”

“The heart wants what it wants.” I laugh, taking the book to ring it up along with their earlier purchases.

Ben hands over his card, still smiling. “We’ll see you around.”

I don’t know why, but his words sound more like a promise than a casual comment.

“See you around, Ben.”