Summer at the Heartbreak Cafe: Summer Sweet Romance (Lakeview Contemporary Romance Book 0)

L
ike a wheel
of fortune that had last stopped in the depths of a cold Irish winter, the weather had since spun again and stopped to rest at where summer sunshine bathed the Lakeview countryside.

Ella Harris looked up at the clear blue skies and smiled.

It was early June and today the sun had some real warmth in it for the first time. With it had come a lifting of the spirits and a feeling of general optimism.

In her sixty-odd years she had learned to appreciate all seasons, but summer was without a doubt Ella’s favourite time of the year.

“Isn’t it glorious?” she said to Nina, her good friend and part-time waitress at the cafe she ran in the centre of the popular tourist destination.

Twenty minutes-drive from Dublin, the town was centred round a broad oxbow lake from which it took its name. The lake, surrounded by low-hanging beech and willow trees, wound its way around the centre and a small humpback stone bridge joined all sides of the township together.

The cobbled streets and ornate lanterns on Main Street, as well as the beautiful one-hundred-year-old artisan cottages decorated with hanging floral baskets had resulted in the village being designated heritage status by the Irish Tourist Board, and the chocolate-box look and feel was intentionally well preserved.

Ella’s café was situated in a small two-storey building with an enviable position right at the edge of the lake, and on the corner where Main Street began.

Early in their marriage, Ella and her late husband took over the running the café from her father-in-law, and she spent nearly every waking moment since then ensuring that his legacy—and that of her dearly departed husband Gregory—lived on through good food, hot coffee, and warm conversation.

“Heavenly,” Nina smiled. “I adore summer. No more early-morning school runs and trying to rush little Patrick out the door,’ she said fondly, referring to her five year old son.

Ella smiled, thinking not for the first time that her friend was doing a wonderful job of bringing up her little boy alone. Though she knew Nina had some help from her father - after whom her son was named - being a single mum in a small Irish community wasn’t an easy prospect, and she was glad that the younger woman had overcome her initial indecision about whether Lakeview was the best place to be, instead of Dublin where her mother resided.

She was also glad that a few hours week working at the cafe at busier times of the year helped provide a little extra income for Nina as well as the opportunity to get out and about. Summer was one of those times.

For Ella, there was no question that Lakeview was the best place to be, but that was easy for her to say.

She’d enjoyed a very happy life here, raised three wonderful children with her late husband, Gregory, and despite burying her beloved almost a decade ago, had recently even managed to find love again.

She smiled as she thought of the new man in her life - fellow Lakeview native Joseph - and what a whirlwind the last six months had been.

The two women systematically opened each of the ten parasols providing shade for an outdoor patio seating area along the side of the café.

Ella had the patio area installed especially for the summer season, and now it boasted modern, comfortable bistro chairs and tables, and pretty red and white striped parasols, overlooking the park bordering the lake.

The cafe’s al fresco dining area was now well and truly ready for summer, and the town’s habitual influx of tourists.

Ella picked up her cleaning bucket and put it next to Nina’s before returning inside the cafe through the side door. As always, the interior felt immediately warm and inviting, with delicious smells coming from the kitchen.

She stopped to survey the room. The decor hadn’t changed much over the years — it was still a warm cosy space with parquet oak flooring, shelves full of dried flowers and old country-style knick-knacks, along with haphazard seating and mismatched tables, one of which was an antique Singer sewing table.

In front of the kitchen and serving area was a long granite countertop, where various solo customers typically nursed their coffees and pastries atop a row of stools. Alongside this was a glass display case filled with a selection of freshly baked goods; muffins, doughnuts, carrot cake, brownies and cream puffs for the sweet-toothed, and pies, sausage rolls and Italian breads for the more savoury-orientated.

From early morning the place was flooded with families, friends, and neighbours, all there to grab a bite to eat—and to gossip. Ella thrived on the commotion and excitement, and the community had embraced her: she had become a figurehead in the town and a confidant to anyone who came in looking for a bit of conversation with their coffee.

The walls were adorned with watercolors by the popular Dublin artist Myra Smith. She routinely spent summers in the town working on her paintings, and usually stayed in one of the nearby artisan cottages - many of which were rented out to holidaymakers at this time of year.

The woman had donated a couple of paintings to the cafe as a thank you a couple of years before, and now even though she was a famous and sought after artist, she still popped in now and again.

Ella reached under her spectacles and dabbed at her eyes. Why was she so emotional this morning?

Then she remembered that this always happened at the beginning of summer, before the small community swelled with visitors from near and far, changing the dynamic of both the town and the cafe.

This room was heavy with memories and all the people whose lives had merged there.

Like every other summer that had gone by, Ella hoped that this would be a great one and that by the end of it, new friendships would have been made and old relationships solidified.

“
Y
ou look so thoughtful Ella
,” Colm, the cafe’s resident chef, called out from behind the counter. He was a gem, and had been working for her since he was still in school.

Ella was the first person he’d come out to - a difficult prospect for a person from a small Irish town like this - and they were great friends.

He lived with his partner in one of the artisan cottages nearby, but the two of them spent a lot of time travelling the world, jetting off at quieter times of the year, during which time Ella held the fort herself.

She chuckled. “Just indulging in past memories. The Heartbreak Cafe has seen its fair share of drama,” she joked, referring to the cafe’s popular nickname.

Colm rolled his eyes theatrically. “Well, if the last thirty years have been like the last two or three, it must have been crazy,” he said, referring to recent personal and community dramas that were somehow always central to the cafe.

Ella walked a few steps to the front of the counter. The glass surrounding it was sparkling clean; as always Nina had done a wonderful job.

Going out front, she looked up and down along Main Street. Already there was a hustle and bustle that had been missing over the last couple of months in the lull between Christmas and early summer.

Just then, she saw Paddy Collins walking slowly down the street, his walking stick tapping the ground in front of him.

“Hello Paddy,” Ella said with a smile. “Time to get out of hibernation?”

He chuckled, the wrinkles around his mouth creasing even deeper.

“You’re right there Ella. Any chance of a warm cup of tea for an old man, and perhaps an omelette?” he said.

“Absolutely, come on in.”

Ella led the way and went behind the counter.

“An omelet please Colm, our first customer of the summer is here.”

“Is it our resident swallow?”

Ella nodded. “Yep, it’s Paddy.”

“Then summer has officially begun,” the chef declared and retreated to the kitchen.

It was true, Ella thought as a few minutes later, she arranged the omelet on the tray.

Paddy was as regular as the seasons. When autumn came, he retreated into his cottage and rarely ventured out. He had a daughter who stayed and kept him company during the harsher months of winter.

But every year without fail, when the weather changed, almost like a squirrel which had been underground, Paddy left his cottage and ventured out, and his first stop was always her cafe.

For the next three months or so, Ella knew he would eat his breakfast at her establishment every single morning and she was only too delighted to have him.

“Is Elizabeth all right?” Ella said, placing the tray in front of Paddy. He had chosen the same table he always did, next to the front widow, where he could see people passing by on the street outside.

“Oh she’s grand, gone up north for a while,” he said.

“Shame that she doesn’t spend summer here with us too,” Ella commented.

“Ah, I’ve tried to talk to her but she’ll hear nothing of it. Says this place holds too many memories,” Paddy said, cutting up his omelet in a painstakingly slow way.

Ella knew why his daughter loathed being in Lakeview at this time of year.

One summer very many years ago, a tall handsome tourist had come into town and he and Elizabeth had fallen deeply in love. The young couple had spent the summer together, and when it was over, the tourist proposed and they went on to make plans for their future.

The wedding was planned for the following spring, and it was to be the wedding of the year. Elizabeth’s new fiancé returned to Dublin supposedly to sort out his affairs, but never returned. Elizabeth was crushed. She had never moved on from that experience viewing all men as the enemy.

“Maybe one day, she’ll find someone else and overcome all those bad memories,” Ella said.

“It’s her decision, there’s nothing I or anybody else can do for her.” Paddy muttered, evidently eager to get on with his breakfast.

After that, the café got pretty busy with the regulars coming in for their breakfast or midmorning coffee.

At three in the afternoon, when there was a usual lull in activity before the teatime crowd, a handsome stranger walked in, standing in the middle of the room to look around.

Here we go
, Ella thought smiling,
our first summer visitor
.

S
am Crosby looked approvingly
around the little town that was to be his summer retreat.

Coming to Lakeview had been a brainwave. Already he could feel his muscles relaxing and the tension from the last couple of weeks ebbing away.

His hands were tucked inside the front pockets of his jeans as he contemplated his new surroundings. Hopefully he would leave this place with a first draft of a new novel.

If not he had no idea what to do.

It wasn’t writer’s block; Sam didn’t believe in that; it was simply a lack of a good plot. He discarded all the ideas that came to his mind so far. They were crappy and lacked the meat to carry the novel to the end.

He slowed his step to take in the tantalising scent of fresh bread. A little way down was a café, the Heartbreak Cafe he’d heard his landlady call it, and the enticing cooking smells reminded Sam that he had not yet had any lunch.

He had arrived in the town half an hour ago, and had not even unpacked his things in the pretty little artisan cottage he was staying in.

His publishers had found him the quaint little place by the lake, and if the easygoing surroundings didn’t get his creative juices flowing, nothing else would.

The holiday cottages were just a short walk from Main Street.

He went into the café, and behind the counter was a dignified older lady with more grey hair than black, and a younger waitress. She was very pretty, with flowing dark hair, parted in the middle, and pale eyes that fell between blue and grey.

“Hello, welcome,” the older woman said, smiling at Sam as if they were long lost friends. “You must be one of our summer visitors.”

Sam looked at her and smiled, a little at a loss to what response was appropriate.
So much for peace and quiet
. “I guess I am.”

“Please, take a table anywhere, and we’ll be right with you.”

He chose a table by the window, next to an old man sipping his tea. The man focused his grey watery eyes on Sam for a few seconds and then looked away disinterested.

Sam looked around. Ella was friendly and warm as she took his order, and immediately made him feel right at home. He felt a little ashamed of himself for his initial coldness towards her.

But the last thing he needed right now was chatty locals distracting him. What he needed for his creativity to emerge was focus.

He hadn’t come to Lakeview to make friends. Sam was here to finish his novel and was determined to do just that.

Or novel to be.

By the end of the summer, his publisher expected something from him, and Sam knew he needed to deliver. Readers too were waiting on something new. In this day and age, if he didn’t come up with something his name and reputation would be quickly forgotten.

Why now? He had never run out of ideas before.

Sam suspected that it had something to do with working nonstop over the years. Each year for the last three years, he’d had two novels published, all six of which had been bestsellers. It was a lot of pressure, so much expectation.

You never knew with books. His favorite was
The End of Time
, which he had written five years ago. It had done dismally; in fact, it was his poorest performing novel ever. Yet even today, Sam still considered it the best thing he had ever written. Typical.

Ella, the older lady returned to his table with a tray bearing his coffee and a doorstep of a sandwich.

“Are you staying in the holiday cottages by the lake?” she asked.

“Yes,” Sam nodded with a smile, trying to sound a bit more friendly. “It’s a great spot, and this is a lovely town.”

“Glad you think so. How long are you staying?”

“A couple of months,’ he replied.

Her eyebrows curved. “Oh, so you’re the author?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Sam said in a flat voice.

He liked his privacy and hated the fact that this Ella already seemed to know about him. Experience had taught him to keep that fact to himself. There were would-be writers everywhere, and while he was happy to give pointers and talks at organised events, it was distracting to be bombarded by people asking about his books and whether or not they’d ‘heard of him.’

“Don’t worry; no one will bother you here,” Ella continued, as if reading his thoughts. “We love visitors but we also know how to give them their privacy. You’ll work in peace here.” she added with a reassuring smile.

“I hope so. “ Sam said, aware he was being curt again, but he unable to help it due to the tension in his body.

Ella took the hint, and with one last smile, she padded away.

Sam chewed on his sandwich, as he looked out the window and took in the passers-by outside on Main Street.

Peace, in a buzzy place like this?

Now, he wasn't so sure.