Love Charms (15 page)

The
message light on her phone was blinking.
I didn’t hear it ring?
With a
frown, she picked up the receiver and pushed the play button.

“Hello,
Annie, this is Dita, Eric’s mother, returning your call. I’m swamped today. Why
don’t you meet me at The Demi-Café on West Fourth Street tomorrow morning at
seven? See you then!”

Annie
stared at the phone receiver with her jaw dropped. She had just decided to call
back to clarify her need for only a number when the phone rang. It was the
client who was supposed to be in her office now, calling to cancel. She spoke
briefly, rearranging her schedule to fit him in later in the week, but her mind
couldn’t seem to focus on anything except the message from Eric’s mother.

She
listened to the message again, writing down the café and street name before
erasing it. She was feeling dizzy and sleepy and didn’t feel brave enough to
call again. Recalling Eric’s little eccentricities, she decided to give his
mother the benefit of the doubt.
Okay, Mom. Let’s see where this goes.
She packed up her briefcase, making sure to tuck in the notebook with the
numbers on it before turning off the lights and locking up for the night.

* * *

Annie
circled the block three times before finally seeing the little coffee shop
tucked away between two larger restaurants.
Damn!
She was twenty minutes
late by her watch. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she cast a visual
sweep across the building as she clicked the button to automatically lock her
car door. There was only a hand-made sign propped in the corner of the dirty
glass in calligraphied letters: Demi-Café. She had worried on the way over how
she was going to recognize Eric’s mother in a crowd, but now Annie didn’t think
that was going to be a problem.

She
swung the door open to the sound of tinkling bells and took a step back at the
powerful smell of the place. It was an exotic blend of darkness—coffee,
chocolate and spice. Her sense of smell was keen these days. The tables
appeared empty. There was a man behind the counter, working the cappuccino
machine from the sounds of it.

Annie
stood for a moment, chewing her lip and fingering her keys.
What am I doing
here? Maybe Chloe’s right
, she thought, remembering her sister’s sarcastic
comment, “When it comes to Annie’s Eric-quest, Obsession isn’t just a new scent
from Calvin Klein.”

“Annie!
Yes? My, you are lovely. Come! Sit!”

Annie
whirled at the sound of the voice to her left. Beyond the window, tucked away
in a cornered nook table was a woman of indeterminable age. Her blonde hair was
piled up onto her head in a mass of swoops and swirls, and her mouth was
smiling, but her eyes were not.
She’s had work done
. She held a hand
out, beckoning, her fingers long and slender and decorated with rings. Annie
moved into the seat across from her, taking the extended hand in the delicate
squeeze of a feminine handshake. Her skin was like cream.

“Mrs—uh…Eric’s
mother?” Annie doubted it even as she spoke the words.
This is someone’s
mother?

The
woman laughed, and in it, Annie heard Eric’s laugh. Only it was lighter, like
silver tinged with lavender, instead of his deep golden tone. “That’s me,
darling. You can call me Dita. Only my best friends do.” She smiled then, as if
she were sharing a secret. Annie settled her purse, shrugged off her light
jacket and glanced toward the counter. She couldn’t drink coffee, but something
wet would be good. Her throat was dry.

“So
tell me, how do you know my wandering son?” Dita asked.

“I—”
Annie averted her eyes, trying to remember the lie she had told, and noticed
that the man behind the counter was moving to bring a tray over to their table.

“Oh,
don’t bother with that reunion thing, sweetie. I know better. Girls still call
daily for my boy.” She laughed again, and Annie was transfixed by the sound.

“Dita.”
The man bent to put a steaming cup and saucer in front of her. “Your special.”
The accent was thick and probably Latino, Annie judged. He also placed two
large, over-full paper bags of beans on the center of the table.

“Can
I get a diet Sprite or...something without caffeine?” Annie asked.

“Oh,
don’t drink that hideous syrup! Bring her a chocolate, Joss.”

Annie
raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything as Joss nodded his head in assent
and left them. “You grind your own?” she asked, indicating the bags and she
peered around them to see the older woman.

“I
roast my own,” Dita corrected, pointing out the lighter colored beans. “These
are raw coffee beans. Quite a powerful stimulant.” She lifted one of the darker
beans, holding it out in her hand for Annie to take. “These...smell...” she
urged.

Annie
drew in a deep breath, the aroma deliciously soothing. “Wow!”

“Yes.”
Dita nodded. “Pure cocoa beans. They are a very strong aphrodisiac.”

Annie
flushed as Dita studied her face. “So, about Eric—”

“Yes,
Eric. You were about to tell me how you know him.”

Annie
sighed and cleared her throat. “I met him at a Valentine’s party three months
ago. He was hiding in the dark under my sister’s kitchen table. We spent the
night talking.”

Dita
sipped her drink, her eyes on Annie’s face. “Go on.”

Annie
knew it sounded crazy, but Dita seemed unfazed. “Well, he wouldn’t let me turn
on the light. He didn’t want me to see him. So we stayed under the table, and
we...talked.” Annie felt warm and pressed her hand to her cheek to cool it.
“When we left, I promised him I wouldn’t turn on the light. He didn’t want me
to see his face in the light.”

Joss
returned with a large mug of hot chocolate. Dita thanked him and he nodded, his
eyes warm. Annie busied herself with the drink, not wanting to tell the rest of
the story. Dita sipped and waited.

“I
broke my promise to him,” Annie admitted, rubbing the rim of the mug and
sucking the sweetness of cream off her finger to chase the bitter taste of the
words from her mouth. “I listened to my sisters, and I turned on the light. I
haven’t seen him since.”

Dita
wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Yes. I know.”

“You
know?” Annie met her eyes, feeling like someone had punched her in the stomach.

“Yes.”
Dita tucked her napkin under her saucer. “He told me about you. Do you think I
invite every girl who calls looking for him out to coffee?”

Annie
gripped her mug, her eyes wide. “How did you know it was me? The story about
the reunion...I only gave you my first name...”

“Caller
I.D., dear.” This time Dita’s eyes were smiling, but her mouth was not. “Isn’t
the modern world a wonderful thing?”

Annie
sat back in her chair, feeling warm and woozy. “So can you tell me where he
is?”

Dita
shrugged one shoulder. “In a manner of speaking. I can tell you where he will
most likely be.”

Annie’s
mouth tightened. “Now I know where Eric got all his mysterious bullshit from.”

Dita
laughed, and this time it was like silver heat. “Perhaps.”

Annie
rose, snatching for her purse. “Excuse me a moment.”

“Of
course, dear.”

Annie’s
purse strap snagged and pulled the chair, bumping the table edge as she tugged.
She gasped as she watched the two paper bags totter and tip. She moved to catch
them, but the rich, glossy beans spilled onto the floor. She stood stooped,
transfixed, her hands still out to catch the impossible flood, her eyes wide
and mouth agape.

Dita’s
eyes met hers. “Well...that’s a mess.”

“I’m
so sorry!” Annie swept the beans up with a fist and began to put them back into
one of the bags. “I’m sure he has more. I’ll pay for them. It was my fault.”

“Please,
don’t mix them,” Dita cautioned her, shaking her head.

“I’m
sorry.” Annie dropped the bag, her whole body feeling like a bright red apology
as she crouched on the tile floor.

“These
are still usable,” Dita explained. “He only gets a shipment once every three
months.”

Annie
surveyed the scattered disarray of mixed beans. “I’ll pick them up, then.”

“That
would be kind of you. I’ll be back to help you in a moment.” Dita smiled down
at her as she stepped carefully through the widespread litter of beans. “And
please, cocoa in one, coffee in another. Yes?”

Annie
nodded, her head pounding.
It will take forever to sort all these!
She
sighed, lining the two bags up on the floor and squatting down. She glanced at
her watch. She was supposed to meet a client in half an hour. There wasn’t
anything else to do but begin putting the raw, light-colored beans in one bag
and the dark, aromatic beans in the other. After a few moments, her back began
to hurt and she carefully cleared a spot to sit, cross-legged on the floor as
she sorted.

The
tile felt cool under her bare legs.
Good thing it isn’t winter anymore.
She remembered how cold the tile was in her sister’s kitchen that night. She
could see Eric’s hands, and she could feel his mouth, burning against her neck.
Annie looked toward the alcove where Dita had disappeared.
They’re probably
both back there laughing at me.
Her face reddened at the thought.

At
least no one is likely to come in!
She glanced at the front door. She hadn’t even seen anyone pass by the window.
She began sorting one bean at a time—light, dark, light, dark—into
the bags. This seemed to be taking too long, and she reconsidered, making a
pile of each on the floor first, sliding her hand through the mixed beans like
a divider, light over here, dark over there. Although it was still tedious, the
chore moved along faster.

Aside
from her embarrassment, Annie found herself starting to enjoy the task. It was
hypnotic, and even pleasant, creating order out of chaos. The monotonous
routine became a gentle rhythm as she sorted. Her mind began to wander,
randomly focusing on her past. Memories of her sisters flooded in, their love
for her, their protection. Nothing was ever good enough for “our Annie.” She
was too beautiful, too perfect.

Annie
recalled the last man she was involved with, flushing at the memory. Craig was
a great guy with a truly generous heart. They’d met during one of her sisters’
many attempts to find her the perfect man, this one a “speed dating” routine.
It was once again her sisters’ influence that had convinced her that Craig
wasn’t “the one.” She had broken up with him two years ago on their
advice—all because he was “just an elementary school teacher” and, as
Chloe had put it, “financially limited.”

Had
she really been so shallow? Her mind wandered back to that night, under the
table with Eric. She couldn’t remember any point in her life when she’d felt so
immediately connected to someone else. He had seen through her, into her, and
she had let him. It was like nothing she had ever known before, and she longed
for him. Even when she believed he might be disfigured, it hadn’t mattered to
her. It was just her sisters and their damned opinions again that had sent him
fleeing into the night.

No.
It was my choice
. The
realization startled her, and she frowned as she separated the beans into piles
then scooped them into the correct bags. It bothered her that she had entered
the kitchen and turned on the light. It wasn’t even so much that she had done
what Eric asked her not to, but more that she had done—once
again—what her sisters had wanted. It was that thought that made her stomach
churn and her cheeks hot. Why couldn’t she ever make a decision on her own,
without the influence of her family?

I
am. I’m searching for Eric
.
Annie closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. Everyone wanted her to forget
about him and move on. She could hear Chloe’s voice in her head: “It was one
night under the kitchen table, not the romance of the century!” Maybe even Eric
himself wanted her to forget him—he certainly hadn’t contacted her since
that night. But she wasn’t going to stop looking until she found him and told
him.

What?
What are you going to tell him?
Annie sighed and peered into one of the bags. It wasn’t even half full! The
other was only just as full with light-colored beans. Frowning, she stared at
them scattered on the tile floor. The pile didn’t seem smaller to her at all.
How
is that possible?
She rubbed her eyes, straightened her sore back and
looked up for the first time in what felt like ages.

Joss
was standing behind the counter again and she smiled over at him and waved.
I
must look ridiculous, sitting on the floor and sorting beans
, she realized,
but she found she didn’t care. He smiled back, his eyes warm, and gave her a
nod.

“Tough
task.” He leaned over the counter and surveyed the mass of strewn beans. “Need
some help?”

Annie
brightened. “I’d love some!” She expected him to come and get down on the floor
with her, but he didn’t. Instead, he reached under the counter and pulled out a
large scoop attached at the handle to a wooden box.