CHAPTER 7
Cheyenne
My head was still pounding as I pushed the door to Dreamy Bean Coffee & Book Café open and was hit with the delicious, rich aroma of coffee beans. The café was normally one of my favorite places to be. From the exposed brick on one wall, the floor-to-ceiling bookcase on another, the counter that was wrapped in distressed wood, the large pendant lights dangled from the ceiling, down to the bistro tables and spindly wrought-iron chairs, the interior felt like a big hug. Plus, books and caffeine, what more could a girl ask for?
But this afternoon, not even the quaint décor, scent of java, and old books could make me feel better. Cash’s breakfast had settled my stomach, but the decaf had done nothing to help my pounding headache.
I kept my sunglasses on as I made my way to the corner booth where Isabella was already seated.
When I saw that my friend had already ordered me a large, caramel macchiato with a double shot of expresso my heart skipped a beat. Without saying a word, I lowered onto the seat and sipped the glorious drink. After a few pauses and more sips, I set the cup down.
“Better?” Isabella asked.
“Yes.” I took another sip. “If Jimmy hadn’t already gotten down on one knee and asked you to marry him I would right now.”
Isabella and I had gone to St. Finbar’s, an exclusive private academy for girls in Connecticut. The first week of our sixth-grade year we were assigned a family tree project in social studies. That was when we discovered that both of our mothers had passed away when we were young. That sort of shared trauma bonds people and it did for us.
She left school sophomore year and I didn’t see her again until I randomly ran into her a few months ago here in Firefly. She was here on vacation because her nanny Mrs. Beasley ran the boarding house and she wanted to reconnect with her. But during her visit she met and fell in love with my baby brother and the two of them were engaged so now she lived here.
Which I was glad about. Isabella was the only person who knew both sides of my life. She was the only one who truly understood how different my upbringing had been from my brothers’ since she’d had basically the same one.
“Did you have class this morning?” she asked.
“Yep. Watercolor for Seniors.” I’d barely made it through. Some of the seniors didn’t think they needed hearing aids and spoke to each other by shouting which made my head feel like it was going to split open. “I didn’t think it was ever going to end.”
“Do you have the kids’ class today?”
I taught three classes a week at the Boys and Girls Club. Normally I looked forward to them. I loved teaching kids, especially kids with behavioral or social issues or differently-abled which most of the kids at the club were.
Art had been my therapy growing up and I loved seeing kids express themselves or find a haven in it. My dream was to someday open an art therapy center for youth.
“Yeah, I do. At three-thirty.”
Isabella cringed. “Are you up to it?”
“I’ll rally.”
“Uh oh,” Isabella mumbled beneath her breath as she looked over my shoulder and pasted a smile on her face. “Incoming.”
“Just the ladies I wanted to see.”
I looked up and saw Miss Shaw, who owned the hair salon Pretty in Peach, waving as she approached our table. She was wearing a neon pink shirt that to my eyes was the equivalent of screaming seniors to my pounding head. I wanted to groan, pull my hoodie over my head, and hide, but I’d been raised with better manners than that.
“Hello, Miss Shaw.” I smiled.
“Well, it’s nice to see you up and around today. After yesterday, I was worried that you’d be out of commission. It’s okay to indulge on special occasions dear, but we can’t make it a habit.”
My stomach turned for a completely different reason. I’d been having flashes of the reception yesterday and none of them were good. I still wasn’t sure just how bad the damage from my indulgence was.
“I have to run to meet my first client of the day but I’m so glad I ran into you both. I was wondering if either of you would be interested in being models for the festival.” Miss Shaw handed both Isabella and me a flyer. “Cheyenne, your mama and I won first place seven years in a row. And Isabella, I know you’re plannin’ on heading down the aisle with Jimmy, I’d love to do some bridal looks for you.”
“I’d love that,” Isabella happily agreed.
“Um…yeah, sure.” I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about my participation.
Growing up, all I’d wished for was that I could know more about my parents. I didn’t feel like I could know who I was without knowing them. I’d felt lost.
But since being back in Firefly, I’d found out I didn’t even know who my father was and all anyone wanted to talk about was my mom. How much I looked like her. How much I sounded like her. How much I moved like her.