COOL BEANS (4 page)

I’m at Cool Beans by ten thirty Friday morning. I didn’t even see Jen this morning because I decided to skip the morning run and sleep in until nine thirty. Which is why my hair is still wet from my shower and pulled up in a short little ponytail.

Jack is yawning behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine as one of our regulars, Lana, leaves with her daily mocha.

I wave to Lana, drop my bag in the cabinet, tie on my apron, and look at Jack, who is yawning again.

“Late night?” I ask.

“The bird. Is nocturnal.”

It’s never good when Jack uses two sentences when he could’ve used just one. I wince.

“Nocturnal, like she’s loud at night?”

“Nocturnal, like she kept me up all night.” He sets the towel down and grabs his head. “Screeching and hollering. And I now know her owner’s favorite movie. Polly quoted
The Mask of Zorro
the whole night.”

“Hey, that’s a good movie!”

Jack glowers at me under his hands. “Not anymore, Nut-job. All night! ‘He probably wears the mask to hide his bald head and
unsightly features.’” He sighs. “Go ahead and laugh.”

I do. “I’m sorry, Jack, but I have to admit: This is hilarious!”

“No, it’s not. I do not want to fall asleep hearing, ‘The pointy end goes into the other man.’ I like
silence.
Complete silence. Polly does not understand this. She even whistles that song Zorro and Elena dance to.”

I’m impressed. “Wow. Can I meet her?”

“Yeah, but you’ll have to come after sunset to hear her talk. She’s nocturnal, I swear. Not a word, not a peep all day and then she morphs into Ebert and Roeper overnight.”

I giggle and start foaming milk for an extra-large triple-shot cappuccino for poor Jack, who is leaning weakly against the counter, staring at a group of men doing a Bible study.

“Here.” I hand him the drink.

“Thanks, Nutkin.”

“Welcome.”

He sips the cappuccino and smiles weakly. “Very good.” He shakes his head and tries to straighten off the counter, then gives up and leans back against it. “So, any more awkwardness last night?” he asks me.

“Well, they were talking on the porch when I got home. I still don’t think he recognized me, but I don’t know. I went inside. My motto last night was ‘No Drama.’”

“Probably best.”

“Yeah.”

Our boss, Alisha Kane, walks in right then, tucking her sunglasses into her dark hair.

Alisha is a good boss. She’s flexible with schedules, gives raises regularly, and always has a funny story to share with us. In all, Cool Beans has five baristas, but Jack and I are usually paired together.

She comes in once a week just to make sure things are running well. There’s a little café across Hudson that she owns, too. Alisha spends most of her time there.

“Hi, guys,” she says, coming over in front of the counter and setting her briefcase down on it. She digs through the pockets and pulls out a bunch of white envelopes.

“Hey, Alisha, how’s it going?” I ask. I start making an americano for her. Alisha loves americanos.

“Good.” She gives Jack a look. “Jack, you look a little down.”

“He’s bird-watching this week,” I say.

“You’re what?”

Jack smiles tiredly at Alisha. “I’m babysitting a parrot who likes night best for talking.”

She laughs. “Ah. Sorry, Jack.”

“Not your fault. It’s mine.”

“Is it a school project?” she asks.

I hand her the americano and answer for him. “No, it’s just Jack not being able to say no.”

“It sounded like a good idea at the time.” He rubs his face. “Extra money, good experience with birds, not a lot of work.… Yeah. Regretting this one.”

Alisha sips her coffee. “Well, kids, I only have a few minutes, but I wanted to drop by and see how it was going. Here are your paychecks, by the way.”

“Yay!” I say for the both of us, since Jack is now sleepily staring into his coffee mug.

We talk income for a few minutes, and she gathers everyone’s time cards for the last week.

“Have a good day, guys. Call if you need anything,” she says, as is her custom, and slides her shades back on as she leaves.
Three o’clock, and I’m officially done for the day. I untie my apron, hang it on my hook inside the kitchen, and grab my bag.

Jack’s leaving too. Our replacements, Carmen and Lisa, are already here and in place behind the counter, giggling over something Lisa did yesterday.

“Bye!” I wave at them as I leave, holding the door for poor, exhausted Jack.

“Bye, Pattertwig.” He yawns. “See you tomorrow.”

“Sleep well, Jackie.”

He gives me a hug before I get in my car.

Calvin is yipping excitedly as I walk in the door. “Hi, boy!” I pick him up and rub his big ears. “How are you?”

It’s a gorgeous day, and I decide Calvin and I are going on a walk. I change into my jogging pants and a T-shirt. I have one arm in the armhole and the other is trying to find the opening for my head and other arm.

Right then, of course, the phone rings.

“Calvin, can you get that?”

I yank the shirt on and answer my cell, my left eye involuntarily winking because some fuzz from my shirt is in my eye.

“Yeah?”

“Well, hi; hello to you too.”

“Hi, Mom. Sorry, I couldn’t see.” Still can’t. I rush for the bathroom, wondering if people can go blind by T-shirt fuzz. I don’t think this shirt is 100 percent cotton. That’s bad, right? According to the Style Network, that’s very bad.

I think it’s because people are into the all-natural stuff now. You know, green is the new black and all that. If you want my opinion, I think “going green” sounds like someone’s either very
jealous or on the verge of being awfully seasick.

Mom asks, “What are you up to?”

“Is polyester bad for your eyes?”

“Probably,” my mother says, all cheerfully, apparently not having that whole mother’s intuition thing to know that her daughter is going blind.

“Oh.” I start splashing water in my eye. I’m still holding the phone with my right hand and my aim is bad to begin with, but I find out it’s a lot worse with my left hand.

Water drenches the front of my pants.

Swell.

“What is going on there?” Mom asks.

“I had fuzz in my eye, so I was trying to get it out before I got polyester poisoning of the retina or something, but now I have water all over my front like I couldn’t hold it long enough.”

“Pleasant, Maya.”

“You asked!” I blink, and the fuzz leaves my eye. So easy now that I’m soaking wet, of course.

“Well, I was actually calling for a reason.”

“Beyond just concern for your favorite daughter?”

“With a daughter like you, I’ve learned just to live with concern.”

I grab a towel for my pants, sit on the toilet-seat cover, and start dabbing. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now. About Sunday.”

Calvin and I drive two hours roundtrip every Sunday to eat dinner with my parents in San Diego. With gas prices what they are, I believe I deserve the Daughter of the Year award. Calvin doesn’t get anything. He’s just a dog, and he likes the wind in his face. It’s a treat for him.

“Zach and Kate are coming to town.”

My brother, Zach, is four years older than me and married to Kate. They don’t have children, and they’re like the worst communicators on the planet.

Obviously.

I can barely contain my joy. Right. “They’re in town?”

“Well, they will be tomorrow. So, they’ll be here on Sunday, and Dad thinks we should go out to dinner. I was calling to see if you’ll meet us at The Cheesecake Factory in Fashion Valley Mall.”

Well, if Zach’s here, then yeah. Bring out the fatted calf.

I squint my eyes shut and pause with the towel.
Sorry, Lord. That wasn’t a good thought at all.

Here’s the thing about my brother, Zachary Robert Davis: He’s pretty much brilliant. He made straight As from kindergarten to graduating from med school. He’s a doctor in Phoenix. For sick little children in the largest children’s hospital in Arizona.

I’m a barista in Hudson. The difference, needless to say, is glaring.

“Sure. What time?” I say. Short answers are best here.

I can almost hear Mom looking at the clock and thinking. “Maybe around five? That will give you enough time after church, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wonderful. See you in a couple days, sweetheart!”

Mom hangs up, and I set the phone on the counter. I keep working on the wet spot.

Don’t get me wrong; I love my brother. I really do. He’s usually a good brother, especially now that puberty is long past for both of us.

I just have self-esteem problems after a family dinner involving him. He’s always talking about some child he cured of a
deadly disease, and what am I supposed to say? “Oh yeah? Well, without me, some poor lady would have had a horrible caffeine headache all day long!”

Kind of loses something.

It’s hard being the sister to a genius. It was hard in grade school when we had the same teachers and they’d all say the same thing at the beginning of the year: “Oh, wonderful! Another Davis child!” You know, expecting another straight-A student. By the end of the year, they were like, “Oh. We thought you were related to Zachary Davis.”

It never gets easier.

I abandon the towel and head to my room. Calvin follows me, curious about when exactly this walk will happen. “Just a second, kiddo.”

I grab a sticky note from my bedside table.

Between Zach and Travis, the walk turns into a jog, the jog into a run, and the run into crashing on the sofa, sweaty, worn out, and holding a package of Oreos and a jar of marshmallow creme.

Calvin falls with a huff on the floor beside the couch, tucking his head between his paws.

“Sorry, bud. Guess I pushed us kind of hard today.”

He sighs his agreement.

I think one of the best, albeit most disgusting-sounding, desserts ever is Oreos dipped in marshmallow creme. It’s amazing. I always feel sorry for people who don’t know of this remarkable combination.

I flick the TV on and rise off the couch for a brief second to pop in
While You Were Sleeping,
probably my most favorite Sandra Bullock movie of all time.

It’s Calvin’s, too. I know this because usually he sleeps through movies, but anytime I watch this one, he perks up and stays awake through the whole thing.

Jen walks in right when Lucy and Jack have their first kiss under the mistletoe. “Oh!” she sighs, drops her purse and coat on the floor, kicks off her heels, and falls to the couch. “I love this movie.”

“Hi, Jen.”

“Hey.” She reaches for the Oreos, bypassing the marshmal-low creme. “So, is this the grand plan for tonight?”

“What?”

“Oreos. Squished-down marshmallows in a jar. Bill Pullman.”

I lick the crumbs from my thumb. “I’m putting in
Elf next.”

“Maya, it’s October.”

“Jen, it’s funny.”

She giggles and pulls her hose-shrouded legs up underneath her on the cushions. “You’re right. Can I watch it with you?”

“Yep.” I watch her tie her hair up in a sloppy bun on top of her head. “What should we have for dinner?”

“Wayne gave me a gift card to Macaroni Grill today. We could have pasta.”

“I don’t feel like showering.”

She nods. “I don’t feel like putting those heels back on. Honestly, Maya. You should be thankful your career actually encourages good podiatric support.”

“Speaking of podiatric and doctors and stuff, Zach’s back in town.” I pop another marshmallow-covered Oreo in my mouth and watch the screen in crunching silence.

Jen looks at me. “Thus the cookies and the comedies.”

Jen knows all about my sibling rivalry with Zach.

“Well …”

She reaches over and rubs my arm. “I’m sorry. It’ll be fine, you know.”

“Yeah. Let’s make tortellini for dinner.”

“I thought you just said you didn’t want pasta.”

My mouth is watering. “I said I didn’t want to shower.” And by
make
tortellini, I really mean dump one of those frozen bags of pasta into a boiling pot of water.

“Oh.”

I look over at her. “Hey, why did you get a gift card anyway?”

She blushes lightly. “Well, Travis is a big client, and he sent flowers to the office today. Wayne was proud of me, so he gave me a gift card.”

I’m frowning. “Wayne was proud you got flowers, so he gave you dinner for you and you alone?”

She shakes her head. “I never claimed he was brilliant, Maya.”

“This is true.”

We watch the movie for a few minutes. Jack and Lucy are dancing around the “I like you” issue, and it’s pretty adorable. This is how Jen and I watch movies: We talk until we get to a scene we love; then we shut up and watch it.

Travis sent Jen flowers.

I chomp another Oreo and glance over at her profile. She’s concentrating on the movie, mindlessly nibbling on a cookie.

I know exactly what flowers he gave her: tulips. It’s Travis’s favorite flower, and he gave me tulips the whole time we were dating. Even though I specifically mentioned on multiple occasions that I love daisies.

Especially the happy little white ones.

This will work out nicely for Jen, though.

“He even brought me my favorite flowers,” she says quietly after the scene ends.

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. A huge bouquet of tulips.” She sighs. This is the second time, and she’s only been home for fifteen minutes. “I really like him, Maya.”

I have to laugh at her dismal tone, even though my stomach suddenly starts cramping. “So why the depression?”

“I don’t want to get my heart involved so fast. You know?” She rubs her face. “Things were good. It was me and God, and I didn’t need anyone else.”