I liked it here though. I felt good being here. Like I could make a real difference somehow. And not because I was Sabrina Delacorte’s daughter. But because I genuinely cared and wanted to help.
Even if I was washing the dishes.
I’m pretty sure when Mom signed me up for this, she didn’t anticipate that I’d be in an apron, doing my bit to help.
A smile tugged at my mouth.
It felt like a small rebellion somehow.
A secret ‘fuck you’ to my mother.
* * *
Lewis was one of the most interesting men I’d ever met. A war veteran, he’d done tours of Iraq, Bosnia, and Afghanistan, until he’d been medically discharged after a nasty shrapnel incident. But he talked fondly of his life in the military, and it was clear that he had a deep sense of community from the way he talked and joked with the many people making the most of the free hot drinks and cake.
“Celeste, be a sweetheart and go grab some empties. We’re almost out of coffee mugs,” he said, pulling a freshly baked tray of cakes from the oven.
“Sure thing.” I wiped my brow with the back of my hand.
It was fast-paced in the kitchen, a constant stream of tasks that needed completing to keep up with the endless flow of people. I didn’t have a chance to chat with many people since I wasn’t serving out front, but I overheard some of their stories. It seemed that people from all walks of life came here. People struggling to make ends meet, older people looking for a hot drink and some company, war veterans like Lewis who had no one else to share their lives with.
It was heartwarming to see how despite their personal circumstances and experiences, people came together over something as simple as a mug of coffee and a slice of cake.
I dried my hands and grabbed a tray, taking it out front.
“Ah, Celeste,” a familiar voice said, and I turned to find Miriam smiling at me. “Don’t you have anything better to be doing on a Saturday?” Humor twinkled in her eyes.
“Actually, I don’t. Can I help you to a table?” I asked, noticing how frail she looked on her walking stick.
“No, it’s fine.” She waved me off with a defiant look. “My grandson will be here any— oh, here he is now.” Her eyes went over my shoulder, and I glanced back, almost dropping the tray.
Because the only person standing at the door was the last person I expected to see.
Zane.
Zane
Celeste gawked at me,her mouth dropping open and closed, once… twice… three times, as if she couldn’t quite figure out what to say.
“Celeste, dear, whatever is the matter?” Grams asked, her eyes crinkling with concern and a slight hint of amusement.
Shit.
This was a clusterfuck. Grams already suspected Celeste and I knew each other, but if she picked up on the strange tension between us, I’d never hear the end of it.
I narrowed my eyes at Celeste.
Don’t say anything. Don’t fucking say—
“I didn’t realize you were Zane’s grandma.” She gave Grams a big smile, but I saw the strain in her eyes. The confusion.
The last thing I wanted was Celeste to know our business. But I hadn’t known she was going to be here today? How could I?
Fuck.
“You’ll have to excuse my grandson’s manners. Zane Thackeray is what we old folk refer to as brooding. But then I suppose you already know that if you two know each other.”
Celeste smirked a little at that, and I bristled.