It Started with a Dog, page 26
All right. Every store had their loyal followers.
She moved on, to a group of six women seated around a round table. Three of them were rocking along in the new rocking chairs. And all six of them had coffee cups that looked handmade. But upon closer inspection, she could see that all the cups featured the Lucky Star in some fashion. The one closest to her had been painted with the words An Austin Original. A couple of them appeared to have the old sign out front. One ambitious artist had tried to capture Roy Rogers.
The women all had the same book in front of them in either a physical copy or on an e-reader—The Secrets of a Suburban Mom.
“Hello! I don’t mean to interrupt, but would you like a coupon for some of Deja Brew’s bakery items? They are keto and Paleo friendly.” She handed the slips around.
All six of them seemed delighted and each of them reached for one. “My sister is doing keto,” said a woman with long dark hair streaked with gray. She’d piled it on top of her head. “She’s lost twenty pounds.”
The women all looked at the slips with renewed interest.
“We have a test kitchen at our north store where we are constantly trying new things,” Harper said. “Have you checked out Deja Brew yet? It’s an artisan coffeehouse across the street. Most of our products are low-carb, full of antioxidants, and naturally sweetened with monkfruit.”
One of the ladies, with a short bob of gray, looked at the window and shook her head. “That’s not my style. I like this kind of coffee shop—you can’t miss with free pie. And of course, we go way back with the Rogers family.”
All six of them loudly voiced their agreement about the Rogers family.
Harper’s teeth clenched behind her smile.
“What’s this?”
Amy appeared wearing green overalls and a bright yellow blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and yellow-and-green-striped glasses.
“Coupons to try a keto bakery item across the street.”
Amy took two. “Keto. I tried a keto cookie once. Thought it had a metallic taste.”
As if. “Not these,” Harper said, her smile getting thinner.
“I’ll try them,” Amy said, and stuffed the two slips into a pocket. “Hey, did you see our coffee cups?” She pointed to more of the handmade coffee cups on the counter. “The ladies here made them. We’re giving one away to each new customer.”
“Well, that’s original,” Harper said with a side-eye to Amy. “Do you have new customers?”
The women laughed. So did Amy. All was fair in love and partnerships. “We do now,” she said proudly.
“You ladies made them?” Harper asked.
The one with the long hair streaked with gray gave an easy flick of her wrist. “Oh, it’s just something we do to keep out of trouble. We enjoy it.”
“Would you like one?” Amy asked with a sly smile. “You’re sort of a new customer.”
Harper did want one. “Yes, thank you. Now which one of you is stuffing Lulu’s vote jar?”
“We all are!” one of the women gleefully announced. “Isn’t she just the cutest puppy?” she crooned as Lulu wobbled over for attention. The woman bent over to pet her. “Just the cutest puppy,” she squeaked.
“You should come across the street and say hello to Bob the Bulldog,” Harper suggested.
“Oh, I did,” said another woman. “His little University of Texas T-shirt was adorable.”
“His vote jar is pretty full, too,” Harper said, and looked at Amy.
“It’s not a contest,” Amy said sweetly.
“King Mutt is literally a contest,” Harper countered.
“I mean that all dogs are winners.”
“Truth!” one of the women said heartily.
“We’ve had three different people stop in to inquire about adopting Lulu. What about Bob? Any interest in adopting him?” Amy asked.
There was an acute interest on Harper’s part. One woman had seemed interested until Bob growled at her. “Everyone is—”
“What’s going on?”
Marty Rogers had joined them. He, too, was holding one of the ladies’ cups. How many had they made?
“Harper brought some coupons for her Paleo bakery items.”
“Keto,” Harper corrected.
“What?” Marty took a slip of paper from her hand and read it. “Belinda!” he suddenly bellowed. “Belinda, come out here and remind me why we don’t like this keto business!”
“Okay,” Harper said with a sigh.
“Hey, ladies, what did you think of our express lane?” Marty asked the book club.
“Marty, that was without a doubt the fastest and best cappuccino I’ve ever had. I don’t know why you didn’t do that a long time ago,” the woman with the short bob said. “I miss Paula, but I sure like that express lane.”
“She got another job,” another of the ladies piped up. “She’s working at Trudy’s.”
“I love Trudy’s,” one of them said. “They have the best enchiladas in town.”
“Disagree,” said the tiniest of the six women. “The Eldorado Café. Those enchiladas are authentic Mexican.”
“How would you know if they were authentic Mexican enchiladas, Karen?” one of them asked, and they all laughed.
“Hey! My great-aunt was from Juarez.”
“But she wasn’t Mexican.”
“She wasn’t Mexican, she was Cuban,” Karen said, and launched into a description of an ancestral line that grew increasingly hard to follow. She’d gotten pretty far up the family tree when the bell above the door sounded, and they all turned as one as a woman entered the Star. Harper recognized her as the Starbucks barista who had come in the day Harper sampled the pie.
“Oh, hey, Everly, come get a coupon for a keto bakery item at Deja Brew,” Amy said.
The woman walked across the dining room and took a slip from Harper. “Hmmm,” she said.
“It’s sweetened with monkfruit,” Harper offered.
Everly shrugged and tucked the slip into her shirt pocket.
“Sweet tea?” Amy asked the barista.
“Yes, please.”
Amy started toward the counter. “Harper, you still want a Lucky Star cup?”
“I do. Thank you.” They had plenty of mugs at Deja Brew, but she liked it here. She liked that everyone knew one another. That they had regulars and they liked to sit around and talk. That they all had homemade coffee cups and were loyal and kind and liked pie. She had a crazy urge to pull up a chair with the book club and ask about the book and sign up for pottery classes.
When Amy went to get the cup, Everly looked down at Lulu, who was begging for attention. “She’s so cute.” She looked at Harper. “How’s the new place?” she asked, indicating Deja Brew with her head.
“Good! Building every day.”
Amy came out from behind the counter with a handmade coffee cup and the sweet tea for Everly.
“We have an adorable bulldog in the King Mutt competition,” Harper added.
“You mean a stuck-up bulldog,” Amy said with a laugh. “How’s it at Starbucks?”
“Oh, you know. It’s going along.” Everly shrugged again. She shrugged a lot. “We’ve had a lot of traffic lately. Probably because of Duke.”
“Duke? Who is Duke?” Amy asked.
“The Saint Bernard puppy we are sponsoring for King Mutt.”
It took a moment for that to sink in, but Amy and Harper exchanged a look of shock and horror, then looked at Everly the Barista. “You have a puppy in the King Mutt competition?”
Everly nodded. “Cutest thing. He’s got a little barrel collar. You know . . . like he’s going to save someone.” She giggled. “He’s so popular. Like, who knew? We had to get a bucket for all the votes. Needless to say, we had to bring on an extra person just to keep up with orders. Everyone’s coming to see Duke.” She cast a meaningful look at Lulu’s vote jar.
Amy handed Everly the tea. “You’ve been coming in here every afternoon for tea and never mentioned you had a dog?”
“Didn’t come up,” Everly said. “Thanks for the tea—see you later.” She smiled, clearly enjoying the surprise, and went out, that green apron draped over her arm.
“What the hell?” Amy muttered.
“A Saint Bernard puppy?” Harper muttered back. “No one can beat a Saint Bernard puppy. Where were the Saint Bernard puppies when I went to the ACC?”
“Has she been coming in here all this time just to spy?” Amy asked, clearly hurt by the turn of events. “Because if she has, this means war.”
“It damn sure does,” Harper agreed. She looked at Amy. “Thanks for the cup.” She dipped down to give Lulu some love. “You’re as cute as any puppy, Lulu, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.” She stood up, waved to the women in the book club. They all waved back. One of them wished her luck with her keto bakery products. Even Marty shouted at her from the private dining room and his jigsaw puzzle to have a good day.
Harper walked back across the street, to her swinging baskets, to her artisan coffee, her keto-friendly foods, and her stuck-up bulldog. She went back to all the latest trends, and the sort of customers who followed the latest trends, who liked Tiny Pies and locally sourced products and no GMOs.
She sat beside Bob in the window seat and stroked his back. He pressed against her and propped his head on a pillow, gazing out at the Lucky Star.
Harper felt a weariness seep into her bones. A weary loneliness, if she was going to be precise. This feeling . . . this wasn’t like her at all. She had always been capable of finding the bright side of any situation. But there was something about the Lucky Star that felt so warm. And familiar on some level.
Was it because the people who tended to gravitate to Deja Brew were young professionals rushing off to work, and they really weren’t building any sort of community? Harper had envisioned writers and musicians filling her egg baskets. Locals who wanted to make this a little home away from home. So far the clientele seemed to be touristy and transient, in a hurry to be somewhere else. But the vibe at the Lucky Star was so different—everyone seemed to belong there. To be an actual part of the place.
She looked around at the iron and chrome and trendy baskets. She watched Elizabeth hand an oversized cup with a tower of whipped cream to a woman who was wearing high-heeled thigh boots. She glanced at four young men around a table, all of them drinking green smoothies, all of them muscle-bound. Gym rats, she guessed. Men with disposable income who probably didn’t think twice about the cost of a green matcha smoothie.
Deja Brew was obviously not the same sort of place as the Lucky Star. And it really shouldn’t be—it catered to people in high-heeled thigh boots and green smoothie drinkers. But Harper? She wanted to be in a place like the Lucky Star. Looking across the street now, she felt a little like she used to feel when she was a kid, looking at Olivia’s house. She’d wanted to belong in their world, too.
It was even more than that. The thing she hadn’t quite been able to grasp the morning after she and Jonah made up, that thing that was teasing her from the far reaches of her mind, had finally crystallized in her thoughts. She realized now that in partnering with Jonah to help bring business to the Lucky Star, she was helping him leave Austin for Spain.
She was helping him achieve a goal that didn’t include her.
Twenty-Six
Jonah had agreed to go for a morning run with Harper.
The night before, they’d eaten from a pan of macaroni and cheese, both of them too tired to make it a proper meal. Harper had fallen asleep on the couch, the dogs had piled up on Truck’s bed together, and Jonah had flipped through a silent round of basketball games, nursing a beer.
He’d had a lot on his mind. Earlier that day, he’d come into the Lucky Star and found an actual lunch crowd. He’d counted twelve tables, enough that Aunt Belinda and Amy were stressed. Burt was complaining about needing help, his mother had flour all through her hair and seemed to have trouble keeping up with the pie baking.
He couldn’t believe it . . . but they were really starting to turn things around. And it wasn’t just the fine weather, either—it had turned cold again. Somehow, through dumb luck and some ideas they never would have had if Harper hadn’t come into his life, they were infusing new life into the Star.
He’d stood there, staring at the store that looked exactly as it had when he was growing up. How could it be that nothing was the same but looked the same? Robert and Lloyd were in their usual spot at the booth in the middle of the window with their slices of pie, but there were new faces in the store. Younger customers, and all of them with slices of pie. A few of them had the coffee cups the book club had made. More than one had ordered a grass-fed beef burger and truffle oil fries.
Was it really this simple? All they had to do was give away some free stuff and people started coming in again?
“It’s the advertising,” Harper had informed him later that night when they had shared the pan of macaroni. “With good advertising, people think nothing of paying five bucks for a rainforest muffin. It’s truly amazing what the right ad can get people to buy.”
Jonah was wondering why it had taken them so long even to consider the possibility of a gentle marketing campaign.
He was patting himself on the back when his dad had come into the office after the lunch rush. Jonah had assumed it was to fret about the money they were spending on advertising and was prepared to show him the receipts from the last week.
His dad had eased himself down onto the chair with a grimace.
“Are you all right, Dad?”
“Stop asking, I’m fine. It’s pretty busy out there. We might need to think about bringing Paula back.”
Jonah grinned. “Right? At long last, something is clicking.”
“Pie always clicks. Your mother is a great baker. I wanted her to go on one of those baking shows she likes, but she doesn’t want to take time from the family or the Lucky Star.”
Jonah had nodded. “Sounds like Mom.”
His dad had drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, studying his son. “I think it’s time I took back the helm, Joe.”
Jonah wasn’t expecting that. It sounded vaguely like he was being fired. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“Course not. But the Lucky Star is not your life. It’s ours. I can take it from here.”
It was funny how you could want so badly to be released from something, but the minute you were released, you felt bad about it. Jonah had gotten used to steering the ship. “Are you sure, Dad? It’s pretty stressful, and your oncologist said to avoid stress with your immune—”
The chair had squeaked loudly when his dad suddenly surged forward. “Jonah? I know what he said. I feel fine. We don’t need you here.”
Maybe Jonah had had too much on his mind, or it was the way his dad had said it—but that had sounded pretty dismissive and Jonah had snorted and said, “Since when?”
His father’s pale face had taken on a definite hue. He had stared hard at his son, and then said quietly, “You’re right. You’ve been a help to me and your mother all your life. From the moment Jolie died, you were our bright spot. But this time, we went too far. You’re in the prime of your life, and you need to live it the way you see fit. Not for us. Now, I appreciate everything you’ve done, Joe, and God knows we owe you a debt for pulling us back from the brink. This is not your place. It’s not what I want for you, and if you’re honest, it’s not what you want for you, either.”
Jonah said nothing. All of that was true.
His father had eased back in his chair. “And the truth is, I feel useless around here. I need to be running this place like I did before. That’s my place, and I’m not helpless and I don’t need you to save me.”
It took several moments for Jonah to respond. “Okay,” he said at last.
Jonah really did understand his dad’s point of view. It had stung at first, after all Jonah had sacrificed and done to help. But there was something liberating in how forcefully his father had said it. His father didn’t need him, but Jonah realized he needed his father’s tacit approval to take the job of a lifetime.
Still, he hadn’t slept well, his warring thoughts mixing into uncomfortable dreams.
This morning, Harper woke him up at the ridiculous hour of 6 a.m. “We’ve got to work the kinks out.”
With a groan, Jonah got up and fed the dogs. When they left, Lulu and Truck were stacked against the wall, pretending not to look at the bowl of food Bob was taking his own sweet time about eating.
They set off at a leisurely pace, talking about their busy schedules for the rest of the week. Harper told him she’d figured out a way to fix the budget shortfalls Soren had left her with. She was going to delay delivery of something until the next month, although he didn’t hear what exactly. His thoughts were still racing. He was going to call Edgar before he went to work at the Star.
“So let me ask you something,” Harper said as they came to a red light at the corner. “What is the worst thing that ever happened to you at work?”
The light turned green. They started running. “Hmm . . . once, I mistakenly sent an e-mail to my boss intended for my cousin. I said he’d acted like a douche the day before and he was lucky I didn’t kick his ass.”
Harper gasped. And then laughed. “Oh my God! What happened? Did you get fired? Is that the real reason you’re back at the Lucky Star?”
“It was a long time ago, so no. Fortunately, my boss thought it was funny and sent back an e-mail confirming he’s a douche. Why do you ask? What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you?”
“Well, there was the time I brought some coupons for keto baked goods to the Lucky Star and no one knew what keto was.”
“I could have told you that. People on my side of the street are very particular about their processed carbs and sugar overload.”
