COOL BEANS (11 page)

“Hurry up, slowpoke!” Jen yells from the living room. I half-hop, half-trip out of my room, pulling on a pair of fuzzy pink socks.

“I’m sorry. Someone made me dress for my date in multiple
layers,” I grumble, falling on the couch. Then I’m happy again.

“What are we watching?”

“Want to watch
Runaway Bride
since you rented it for tonight anyway?” Jen’s wearing her faded red, silky long-sleeved pajama set. Her hair is piled on her head, and she’s posed in front of the TV, holding the rental DVD.

“Yay!”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she grins. “Ice cream?”

“Pie?” I say at the same time.

She nods. “Both. We’ve been working out.”

“What about natural dirt foods?” I ask, eyes wide.

She waves a hand while putting the DVD in. “Who cares? It’s a girls’ movie night, and you cannot have natural foods during one of those.”

I like Jen a lot.

Forty minutes later, we’re both snuggled under fleece blankets on the couch, watching Julia Roberts try on a backpack for her mountain-climbing honeymoon. I lick the apple pie with melted vanilla ice cream off my spoon. Canned apple pie filling, instant Pillsbury crust — it’s like God
wanted
us to have high cholesterol.

“I do not want to climb a mountain for my honeymoon,” Jen says, scraping the bowl.

“Me neither.”

“I want to go to a spa or a resort or something,” she continues.

I frown at the TV. “I want to do something in the snow. Winter is the most romantic time of the whole year!” I throw up my hands in happiness and rain down a sprinkling of apple filling on Calvin at my feet, who yips and then starts licking himself.

“Oops.”

“You get vacuum duty.”

“I bequeath it to Calvin.”

Jen smiles. “I’ve always liked summer,” she says softly and wistfully. “Everything is green, and the flowers have all bloomed.”

“The whole ‘June bride’ type of thing?”

“Yeah.”

I shake my head. “Summer’s hot.”

“That means a strapless dress.”

“And a bathing-suit tan,” I say.

She starts gnawing on her lip. “Good point.”

I toss her one of Calvin’s toys, much to his dismay. “Here,” I offer. “Have a chew toy; save your lip.”

“Funny.”

I pop the lid on a lady’s latte and pass it across the counter. “Here you go, ma’am.”

“Thanks.”

She takes it and settles into one of the squishy chairs, pulling a novel out of her purse. Today is another cloudy, stormy day, and Cool Beans is packed.

Jack is in the back, whistling, while he pulls another batch of our infamous blazzberry scones — that’s blueberry and raspberry — from the freezer. Apparently, he left Polly with his apartment-complex office, and the owners were supposed to pick the bird up at two o’clock today. It’s nearly four, so Jack has officially been birdless for two hours.

Thus the annoying, nonstop whistling. Earlier, I heard him making up a song about “No more parrots in his ’partment.”

It was disturbing.

“Hi there,” I say to a nicely aged man in his sixties. “What can I get you?”

He pulls out his wallet. “Just a coffee, missy. And a chocolate-chip cookie, please.”

I tell him the amount, while grabbing the cookie and drink for him. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” goes the man.
Ping
goes the tip jar.

Yay!
goes me.

Jack comes from the back, wiping his hands on his apron, still whistling.

“Wait, is that the victory theme from
The Mighty Ducks?”
I ask.

“Yup.” He grins happily at me. “Fitting, don’t you think? It’s a happy song. About … poultry.”

“It’s not about poultry.”

“Sure it is. It’s about the Mighty Ducks. Ducks are poultry.”

“No, it’s about winning.” I shake my head. “And besides, even if ducks are, parrots aren’t poultry. You eat poultry.”

“True, but Polly barely escaped that fate.”

He’s smiling, so I know he’s kidding, but I glare at him. “Meany.”

“I wouldn’t have eaten him. But after a week and a half of listening to him talk, Canis was about to rip him beak to tail,” Jack says.

Canis is a mix of Labrador and pointer. He should have the words “bird dog” tattooed into his hide. I’m actually amazed Polly lived this whole time.

“Is Canis ready to be the only pet in your life again?”

“You’d better believe it.” Jack sighs. “I can’t wait. No birdseed everywhere, no more screams, silent nights …”

“Christmas already, Jack?” Alisha says, walking up to the counter. “And here I thought Maya was the Christmas freak.”

I giggle.

Alisha grins, looking around. “Looks busy. That’s good,” she says.

“It’s a cold day. Everyone wants lattes,” I say.

“Speaking of which,” Alisha begins, “Jackie, will you make
me a cinnamon latte while Maya gets me the totals?”

“Sure thing, Alisha,” Jack says, starting on her drink.

She leaves, latte in hand, a few minutes later. “See you later, guys.”

“Bye,” I say, turning back to Jack. “So, I went on a blind date last night.”

He’s right in the middle of sipping from his straight-up black coffee, so he ends up choking. “With whom?” he says, hacking.

“Some guy who scored an eight on the good-looking scale and a two on the personality scale.” I sigh. “Half the time, we just sat there. Staring at our food. Fiddling with our enchiladas.”

“Sorry.” He starts laughing.

“It’s not funny, Jack.”

He clears his throat to stop the laugh. “Why did he not have a personality?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. He just didn’t. Apparently, he isn’t around women much.”

“He said that?” Jack takes a lady’s order, and I start making her three to-go coffees.

“No, Travis did.” I say this in a small voice while he’s talking to the lady. “Anyway, change of subject, Zach is moving to town tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Here’s your change and your coffees,” Jack says to the lady, handing her the drinks in a cardboard carrier.

She dumps her change in the tip jar. “Thank you!”

Jack turns back to me the moment she leaves. “Wait, what?”

“He’s moving here tomorrow. I’m supposed to go to Mom and Dad’s right after church so I can help them.”

“No, Travis was at your blind date?” He’s frowning.

I twist a rag around in my hands. “Well, it was kind of a double date
and
a blind date.”

“Oh.” He starts grinding a new batch of coffee beans.

I grab a filter to help him. “It was Jen’s idea.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but right then the phone rings. “I’ll get it,” I say.

The cordless is under the front counter. “Thanks for calling Cool Beans. This is Maya. Can I help you?”

“Is there a Jack Dominguez there?” Female voice.

“One sec.” I toss the phone to Jack.

He clears his throat and then answers it. “This is Jack.” I finish getting the new coffee batch ready, disguising my eavesdropping. It’s not that often that Jack gets a call, period — much less from a girl.

He tucks the phone under his ear. “Hey, how are you? Yeah. Mm-hmm. They what?” he almost yells.

I jump.

“What did you tell them? What?! Oh, man.” He covers his face with his left hand. “Mm-hmm. No, I understand. Bye.” He hangs up, but his hand stays over his eyes. “Oh, no,” he mumbles.

“What? What happened?” I’m hopping around him like a little spastic puppy. “What is it? What’s wrong, Jack?”

He sighs and rubs his face before moving his hands. “They never showed.”

“Who never showed?”

“Polly’s owners.”

My mouth drops open. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Polly is still at my apartment’s office building.” He groans now. “Man!”

Poor Jack! “What are you going to do?” I ask, popping the new coffee grounds in the coffeemaker.

“I don’t know. Rebecca, the secretary, called the number I
gave her for them, and they said they weren’t coming today, so she asked when they were, and they hung up.”

I don’t know what to do, so I grimace a half-smile at him. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“It’s not your fault. Want a nocturnal parrot?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Oh.” He sighs again. “Nutkin, I need to go put her back in the apartment, so do you mind if I take off in a few minutes for about half an hour?”

“No, go do it. Sorry.”

A man comes over for a refill, and I dispense a new cup of dark roast for him. I can smell our fresh-from-the-oven scones, and apparently he can too. “Here you go, sir.” I hand him the drink.

“Thanks. What’s baking?”

“Scones.”

“I’ll take one.”

I ring him up and give him a warm pastry.

Jack unties his apron and goes into the back, coming back out a few minutes later. “I’ll be right back, Maya.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sorry.”

He suddenly starts laughing. “Will you stop saying ‘sorry’?”

“Okay.” I wince. “Sorry.”

“Back in a minute.” He leaves.

I wipe down the counter and look around the coffee shop. Nearly all the chairs are filled with people laughing, talking, reading, or busily typing away on a laptop. A group of Cal-Hudson college kids are sprawled out on the two couches by the fireplace, textbooks and notebooks scattered everywhere. I silently thank God I’m done with school.

Jen walks in right then. She’s wearing form-fitting jeans and
a soft gray wool sweater that spotlights her blue eyes.

“Hey, Maya.” She comes up to the counter and looks around. “You guys are busy. Where’s Jack?”

“He found out he’s got a parrot.”

“I thought he had a parrot.”

I nod. “He got it back.”

“Oh.” She grins. “Can I have a small English Dusk tea?”

“Here or to-go?”

She sits at the bar. “Here.”

I pull a huge red ceramic mug from under the counter and attach the strainer sack to it. I scoop the loose-leaf tea and dispense the hot water over it.

“So, what are you doing today?” I ask. I hadn’t seen her yet today. By the time I got up and showered, she was on a run, and I was almost late for work.

“I’m about to go to the grocery store,” Jen says, grinning at me.

“Aww, is that why you came in?” I coo.

“Yes, it is. What do you need?”

I dig around for a sticky note and write her a list. She takes the note, reads it, and then looks up at me. “Seriously, Maya?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“All of this is instant dinners and ice cream.”

“It’s cheap!” I say. “And I work out.”

Jen just shakes her head and smiles. “Oh, gosh.”

“Thanks for going to the store.”

She nods. “Sure. What time do you get off?”

“Ten or so.”

“Okay. Travis and I are going to dinner tonight, so I may not be home when you get back.” She finishes off her tea.

Again?
“How do you guys afford eating out all the time?” I ask.

“He’s pretty well-off, Maya.” She smiles all sappy-like. “He bought me — ”

I hold up a hand, cutting her off. “Wait, let me guess. Tulips?”

My sarcasm is lost on her. “He’s so sweet, isn’t he?” she sighs. “Well, I’m off to the grocery store. Call if you need something not preservative-chocked.”

“Ha-ha,” I say, picking up her empty mug. “Thanks, Jen. Bye.”

Jack walks up right as Jen is leaving. “Hey, Jack,” she says.

“Hi, Jenny. Leaving right as I get here? That’s nice of you,” he teases and gives her a hug. “Hey, you know what you need?” he asks, one arm still around her.

She gives him a look. “What?”

“A companion. Company. A friend. Someone you can tell even your most horrible secrets to.”

“I don’t want a parrot, Jack.”

He sighs and lets her go. “What if it were free?”

She shakes her head. “They’re messy. And loud.”

“What if I
paid
you to take her?”

“No thanks,” she says cheerfully as Jack deflates. “I’m sure someone wants your parrot, Jack.” She nods around the restaurant. “Maybe someone here does.”

“Does anyone want a parrot?” Jack yells.

There is suddenly total silence. Everyone looks at him confusedly and then almost at the same time starts their happy chattering buzz again.

Jack shoves his hands in his pocket. “I’ll take that as a no.”

It’s ten thirty by the time I get home and tiredly sit on the edge of my bed to take my shoes off. Cool Beans was busy until we
finally shooed the last customers out so we could lock up and leave.

Calvin is hopping up on my lap for some attention, and I sleepily scratch his ears. “Hi, baby. It’s been a long day.”

I lie back on the pillows and yawn, covering it with my wrist. I glance to my left, and there sits my Bible.

How long has it been since I did my devotions?

I pick up the sticky-note-clad Book and frown. It’s been a while. I close my eyes. I’m so tired right now; I could fall asleep in my coffee-scented clothing. Which is a big no-no because then my sheets smell like Cool Beans, and suddenly my work life and my home life are one and the same smell.

That’s bad.

I put the Bible back on the nightstand. I’m so out of it that I wouldn’t be able to learn anything right now anyway.

I find the remote to my little TV instead and flick on the Style Network. Changing into a pair of pajama pants and a cami, I cuddle under the covers and slowly drift to sleep, dreaming of dark-rinsed jeans and jewel-toned tops.

At exactly ten in the morning on Sunday, I fall into a padded folding chair, coffee and Bible in hand. I’m wearing jeans and a thick blue sweater since our cold weather front has been holding for the past few days.

“Morning, Maya,” Andrew says, coming by.

“Hey, Andrew.”

“Good week?”

I nod. “Decent.”

He smiles and moves on to greet the next person walking in. I sip my coffee, looking around. Jack and Jen aren’t here yet,
and a group of about twenty people mill around, grabbing coffee and visiting.

I’m not very good at meeting new people. I get all freaked out about having to come up with small talk.

There’s a guy I recognize from the past several weeks sitting two empty seats down from me. I’ve never talked to him. Guys are even weirder to randomly just go talk to. Then it looks like I’m coming on to him, which I’m not.

He must notice my fidgeting because he looks over at me. “Hey,” he says.

Oh great. Now I have to talk back. Why am I so good at this at Cool Beans and so bad at it here?

He’s looking at me expectantly. He’s blond and cute, and that makes it even harder to talk normally to him.

I’m mentally going over the five points of meeting new people that Andrew told me when he asked why I never talk to people outside of Jack, Jen, and him.

I wrote it down on a sticky note at the time:

“Hi,” I say back, wringing my hands nervously. “I’m Maya. I’m interested in coffee, chocolate, and snow, and I wish I could paint like Thomas Kinkade, and I’m curious what you like to do.” I try to giggle casually, but it comes out like a staccato version of Cogsworth the Clock on
Beauty and the Beast.

He blinks at me.

I rub my forehead.

“Good morning, everyone,” Andrew says, the official opening of our Bible study.

Why did Andrew ever give me that list? It makes it worse!

Honestly, how hard is it to say, “Hi, I’m Maya. What’s your name?”

I’m using both hands on my temples now.

“Headache?” Jack whispers in my ear, sliding into the seat next to me.

“Of course, you show up
now
,” I hiss at him.

“What?”

“So, why don’t we all quiet down and turn to James.” Andrew is looking right as me as he says the words “quiet down.”

I glare at Jack and grab my Bible.

Forty-five minutes later, Andrew prays and we’re done. Honestly, I didn’t hear too much of the message. I have to drive to San Diego right now to help Zach and Kate get their new house set up.

Mom sent me a text this morning that said,
Sweetie, it’s raining so wear something warm.

Swell. Moving in the rain.

I’m probably being really immature and selfish about this whole Zach-moving-back thing. I mean, maybe we’ll get along just fine now.