It Started with a Dog, page 3
Why had he called Amy, again? She’d been working at the family business for so long that she was like a kid sister to him and acted like it. “When I get back to Austin, I’ll meet up with her and we’ll exchange phones. She can’t get into my banking app because it needs my face. Anyway, please don’t blow up my phone while I’m gone because I won’t be the one to see what a nerd you are. And tell Mom and Dad and Marty and Belinda.”
Amy snorted. “You think they’re going to remember not to text or call you on your number? Here, you tell them.”
She swung her phone around so that Jonah could see his mom and dad and Aunt Belinda and Uncle Marty sitting around a table in a private dining room. There was a half-completed jigsaw puzzle in the middle of the table. Some empty dishes were stacked in the corners, a few books in front of his dad, and Aunt Belinda was knitting. Behind them, through the open doorway, Jonah could see some of the regular patrons of the Lucky Star, and the top of the cook’s head, wrapped in a red bandanna, behind the counter.
“Hi, Joe!” his parents and aunt and uncle shouted. They were drinking beer and wine, and Jonah watched as a man suddenly appeared in view with two pizza boxes. “Pizza’s here,” he announced.
“Thanks, Kev!” Amy said.
Hadn’t he talked to them about bringing in food from competitors? Why, yes—yes, he had, and on more than one occasion. “Why let customers know there is a better place down the street?” he’d demanded of the four of them.
“It’s good pizza,” Uncle Marty had said.
“Joe lost his phone,” Amy announced as the pizza delivery guy went out.
“What?” Aunt Belinda exclaimed. “Then how is he calling you?” Uncle Marty took charge of carefully laying the pizza boxes on top of the puzzle.
“He mixed up his phone with someone else’s, and he is using that phone to call.”
“Why didn’t he just give it back?” Jonah’s dad asked.
“He won’t say,” Amy said. “He’s being kind of secretive about it.”
“I’m not being secretive!” Jonah shouted so that the four seniors would hear him. That was Amy for you, always tossing a little Tabasco into any situation. The seniors didn’t hear him, because they were discussing how annoying it would be to lose a phone as they grabbed for slices of pizza. “Mom! Dad!” They were not listening to him. Typical. “Amy? Can you help here?”
“Joe, honey, how did you lose your phone?” his mother asked.
“It’s a long story, Mom. I don’t have time to get into it right now.”
“Why? Are you in a big rush to go caroling?” Amy asked.
Everyone in the store laughed. Everyone, including Robert and Lloyd, the two old guys in Marine ball caps sitting next to the enormous Christmas tree. And the six members of the Little Stacy Neighborhood Book Club, who met every third week to discuss books, and then every other week to discuss their kids and husbands and crafts. They were having their holiday party under the string of oversized ornaments Aunt Belinda had made Uncle Marty hang across the ceiling. Jonah could even hear Bing Crosby crooning in the background, Ho Ho Ho-ing along with the chorus.
In the corner of the dining room, standing sentry, was the life-size cutout of Roy Rogers, his father’s namesake. That cutout had been there longer than Jonah had been alive. He’d been refurbished a time or two in the last thirty years, but he was always there, wearing something indicative of the season. Today, he was wearing a Santa hat over the crown of his cowboy hat, and someone had wrapped a garland around his neck.
This was the Lucky Star Coffee Shop. His family’s business. Correction—his family’s failing business, the one that was leaking money. Which reminded him, and he asked hopefully of Amy, “Hey, did you sell any of the Christmas trees?”
“Are you kidding? In this rain? No one is hauling a tree in this rain.”
He glanced down the pickup lane, looking for his cousin’s vehicle. “They’re small trees. Tabletop trees. People should be able to carry them. That was the whole point.”
“I’m just saying, no one is buying trees in this weather.”
They hadn’t bought the trees in any weather. Jonah didn’t get it. Didn’t millennials put up trees? He’d had the brilliant idea that they’d stop in for a tree and stay for a burger or a coffee. But they didn’t.
A familiar black SUV made the curve in the road and flashed lights at him.
“Listen, Allen and Andy are here. Merry Christmas, squirt. And remember—don’t blow up my phone. Promise me you’ll make sure my family understands that.”
“Have fun, Joe!” his mother called from somewhere behind Amy.
“I’m not blowing up anything. Bye, stupid,” Amy said, and clicked off.
The SUV pulled to a halt beside the curb, and the back door popped open. Jonah tossed his suitcase inside and followed with his body. A male voice from the front demanded, “Dude . . . why aren’t you answering your texts?”
He wasn’t sure which twin had asked that, Allen or Andy. His cousins were identical in appearance. They were both doctors—Andy a pediatrician, Allen a gynecologist—and they were so stinking good-looking that any man who went along as their third wheel was going to get some residual attention from women. Jonah had always enjoyed that perk of being their cousin.
The only difference between them was that Allen had married Naomi two years ago, and they’d just had their first baby, little Lena. Allen and Naomi were moving into a bigger house over the holidays in anticipation of a growing family, and in a couple of months, Uncle Marty and Aunt Belinda were moving to Chicago and into the in-law suite of the house to help out with childcare and to be close to their sons.
Jonah had come to help with the move. At least that’s what he’d said to everyone who asked. But he’d really come because he needed a break. Living around and working with his parents and aunt and uncle had a way of putting a guy in front of the five o’clock news and a prompt bedtime. He felt like he’d gone straight from young club stud to lining up for early bird specials.
Plus, he had a lot to think about and needed some time away from everything to do just that. Sometimes, it was very difficult to think in Austin.
He leaned forward, put his hands on Allen’s shoulders, and jostled him around. “It’s a phone mix-up. Long story. Where’s Naomi?”
“Spending the night at her parents’ house with the baby. She said she doesn’t want to see what I become around you two.”
“Smart girl. Where are we going?”
“O’Riley’s,” Andy said into the rearview mirror. “It’s very important that we start this holiday off with a bang.”
* * *
Start it off with a bang they did. Jonah woke up the next morning to the birdsong chirping in time to his throbbing headache. His mouth tasted like he’d eaten part of an alley dumpster, and his neck was stiff from sleeping on the sunroom couch in Andy’s house. Allen had taken the spare bedroom.
Jonah winced; the bright sunlight reflecting off old snow was shooting daggers through the sliding glass doors and directly into his brain. “Christ,” he groaned, and rolled onto his back.
That’s when he saw Allen and Andy seated on stools at the kitchen bar. They were showered and dressed. They each had a cup of coffee. And they each watched him as if he were a strange creature they’d discovered wandering around their living room.
“What?” Jonah asked irritably.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Andy said.
“I know.” Jonah closed his eyes.
“We’re going to the Christkindlmarket today.”
“What is that and why are we going?” Jonah croaked. He opened his eyes and forced himself to prop up on his elbows.
“Because we are going to be guests in the home of my in-laws and we need to take a proper gift. Didn’t Aunt Darlene and Uncle Roy teach you anything?” He picked up a folded towel from the kitchen bar and threw it on Jonah’s face. Then he set a steaming mug of coffee on the end table next to him. “You know where the shower is, and dude, you reek of whiskey.”
“Whose fault is that?” Jonah pushed the towel off him, forced himself to sit up, and lunged for the coffee.
“You really tied one on last night,” Andy said with a grin. “Trouble at home?”
“Hilarious,” Jonah grumbled. There was trouble at home, all right, but not the kind his cousin meant. He hadn’t told them yet. He hadn’t told anyone how bad it was. He wasn’t ready to talk about it. Frankly, he didn’t want to think about it today.
“Hurry up,” Allen said. “I’m starving.”
Jonah gulped down the coffee, picked up the towel, and carefully stood, testing to see if he still had functioning legs before he stumbled his way to the shower. When he was assured that he could make it without face-planting on the way, he grabbed his phone and started shuffling in that direction. With a yawn, he looked at the screen . . . and at a picture of a flower shop taken through open weathered wooden doors.
Right.
He had someone else’s phone. What was her name? Harper.
Harper had a text message. Jonah’s first thought was that he should definitely not tap on the screen to read the text because that was a total invasion of privacy and it was none of his business. He would not like to think she was scrolling through his text messages.
His second thought was that he should totally read the text. What if it was important? What if someone had died? Okay, if someone had died, the news probably wouldn’t come in a text. Okay . . . what if someone had used her credit card? And hadn’t she said to let her know about texts?
He tapped on the screen.
Her text message was from someone she had marked in her contacts as SW:
Harper, greetings and felicitous felicitations given with genuine felicity.
Jonah stumbled mentally over that and had to read it again.
As the year draws to a close—a bounteous year, for which we were truly blessed—I am reflecting on our goals and contemplating some changes. You were right to tell me that you deserve better. I have sought higher guidance through meditation, and I am ready to share my thoughts with you when you come back. I hope the holidays bring you peace and light. Soren.
Well, hello, this was some boyfriend she had for herself. Or girlfriend. For the sake of his own curiosity, Jonah wished he’d gotten a better look at the woman sitting next to him in the ride share yesterday. All he really remembered was that she smelled like wet clothes and lavender, and she had light brown hair with gold highlights. But that was all he could recall, because at the time he’d been straddling a nonexistent middle seat and bracing himself for impact.
He decided he ought to forward the text. He didn’t want to bother her on Christmas Eve, but if this was a boyfriend-girlfriend text, she would probably want to know. He would want to know if he had a girlfriend, which, hello, he did not, because . . . honestly, he didn’t know why. Maybe because he was essentially dating an old coffee shop.
He continued on to the guest bath. He stepped inside and closed the door, and forwarded the text to his number. He added, Good morning. I thought you might like to know that your boyfriend or girlfriend sent a text. Should we have a rule about texts? Read or don’t read? Anyway, hope I’m not interrupting holiday plans. J.
He left the phone on the counter and turned on the shower. He stood under the stream of water long enough that one of his cousins banged on the door. He got out, wiped down the steamed mirror, and shaved.
He felt much better after the shower. He wrapped the towel around his waist and picked up the phone. Harper had replied.
Definitely read!
And then, OMG SO NOT my boyfriend, followed by the vomit emoji. That’s my boss. But thanks for sending it along, because between you and me, it’s a Christmas miracle that he agreed I was right and that I deserve better. Now, if only I knew what he was talking about, because I do love it when I’m right. I like to hang on to being right and wear it like Joseph’s Technicolor dream coat for a few days. She inserted a smiley face and a Christmas tree to end the text. Merry Christmas.
Jonah liked this girl.
* * *
At the Christmas market, Jonah and his cousins found a suitable holiday gift for Naomi’s parents, then wandered around the stalls for the afternoon. Later, they went out for a steak dinner and talked. Their conversation covered the usual ground—women and sports. But eventually Allen asked about Jonah’s aerospace engineering job. “Your employer is still cool with you helping out at the Star?” He sounded a bit incredulous, as if it was beyond the realm of reason that an employer would give an employee a few months off to deal with a family problem.
The family problem was the coffee shop on the corner of Mary Street and South Congress Avenue that had been there since what felt like the beginning of time. They all knew the story—their grandparents, Juanita and Howell, had opened the coffee shop in the mid-fifties and had named it the Lucky Star Coffee Shop after an episode of the old weekly Roy Rogers television series. They’d obviously been huge fans.
The Star, as they called it, was a squat and plain red brick building, and through the years, as buildings had been torn down and new ones put up all along the avenue, the coffee shop had remained exactly the same. In the late seventies, Juanita and Howell sold the Star to their sons, Roy and Marty. Marty and Belinda (Allen and Andy’s parents), and Roy and Darlene (Jonah’s parents) added more baked goods to the menu. Jonah’s mother had become a self-proclaimed master pie baker, but most of Austin had agreed with her—the Star became the place known for homemade cakes and pies and a cup of joe.
Over the years, a hodgepodge of items had been added to the menu. Big salads. Burgers and sandwiches. Chicken potpies. Basic comfort food that any cook with a spatula could make. But the pies were the draw, and the Star developed a loyal following from the surrounding neighborhoods, including the book club, Vietnam War veterans Robert and Lloyd, a Bible study class from Mt. Zion Baptist Church on the east side, a Mother’s Day Out group, and more.
Like their fathers before them, Jonah, Allen, and Andy had been raised in the coffee shop. During summer breaks and holidays, they all had jobs as busboys. Jonah experienced his first kiss there. And his first breakup—in the back booth with the cracked vinyl seating, Crystal Mendoza told him she didn’t want to date him anymore a week before their high school graduation. Allen broke his arm there, jumping off a ladder. Uncle Marty confessed to Aunt Belinda that he’d kissed Mrs. Sanderson beneath some mistletoe there. And when Jonah’s older sister, Jolie, died of leukemia, his parents had retreated with their grief into work there.
Jolie had died when Jonah was a preschooler. He really didn’t remember much about her—she was a ghost of a memory, a sickly-looking girl with dark circles under her eyes. A few of the regulars remembered her. Lloyd had once told him she’d sit quietly in the back booth with coloring books, never wanting to eat or drink much.
When Jonah was older, and the bus dropped him off from school at the Star, he and his mother would paint the store windows with sketches he’d made. There was no rhyme or reason to them—he just thought of pictures that were cool to his thirteen-year-old self, and his mother helped him paint them on the windows. His parents had never cared if dinosaurs walked across the front windows, or spaceships crashed into the brick. All they ever cared about was that Jonah was close by and safe. He’d always intuitively sensed that they were afraid of losing him, too. And he’d always felt compelled to assure them that he was there for them.
The Lucky Star was one of those places that old-timers pointed to with great fondness, but in the last decade, old Austin was slowly consumed by new Austin, with designer coffeehouses and trendy shops and people flocking in from California to live in high-rises. Property values in what was once a fading section south of downtown had skyrocketed with the ongoing gentrification. The Rogers family struggled to pay the property taxes on the coffee shop. The only reason they’d survived as long as they had, outlasting other mom-and-pop shops, was because Juanita and Howell had bought the building. Otherwise, astronomical rents would have forced them out long ago.
Two Christmases ago, the Rogers family held a meeting. The profit margins had shrunk, and they’d had to let some longtime staff go. But still, they’d all imagined that the Lucky Star would find a way to carry on as it always had.
Seven months ago, there had been another family meeting. Jonah’s father, who was the business end of the Star, announced he had cancer of the bladder. The treatment was brutal, and Jonah had helped as much as he could, dropping by after work, filling in for his dad, taking him to doctors’ appointments.
Three months ago, Jonah realized that he couldn’t help as much as they needed him and do his day job at the same time. So he’d taken a sabbatical from his aerospace engineering job at Neptune Industries to help. It was the only thing that made sense to him. His mother was the baker. Uncle Marty did all the maintenance. And Aunt Belinda helped Amy run the storefront. None of them were suited or wanted to take on the business aspects.
Jonah’s boss, Edgar, was supportive of his request, given the circumstances. He called to check in with Jonah every couple of weeks.
Last week, he’d called with news.
NASA had contracted with Neptune Industries to develop a long-range, deep space satellite. The project would include six months of training at NASA’s deep space communications facility in Madrid, Spain. And a substantial raise. They needed someone to lead the project, and Edgar said the partners wanted Jonah. He’d earned it. He was their best guy. What was not to love? A cool job and more money. Was it possible he could cut short his sabbatical?
Jonah desperately wanted to jump at the opportunity. This was the sort of project that people like him spent an entire career working toward. Why hadn’t he just jumped? No one would blame him. And yet, he’d told Edgar he needed to think about it.
