came. Sleep hadn’t come easy with something so exciting hanging in the balance. She was eager to make it real. The next morning, she was surprised to see Rothstein enter the shop with a big smile on his face. Well, that certainly boded well. She geared up, wiping her hands on a nearby towel and standing up straight, ready to do this. “Good morning, Mr. Rothstein,” she said, matching his grin.
This was it. She pressed her hands against her apron and smoothed it down, reminding herself of all of her talking points.
“Morning, Clem. Smells amazing as always. Can I steal a hot scallion biscuit and medium coffee?” No mention of her phone call. Her stomach did about eighteen somersaults. She ordered it to relax.
“Easy enough,” she said. She put together his order and stole a glance at him as he waited. “Did you happen to get my voice mail last night about the café? I thought maybe that’s why you stopped by.”
“I did. It’s admirable you’re so passionate about the place. But I’m afraid it’s already sold.”
She froze and her skin prickled. The information hadn’t quite made it all the way into her brain because it didn’t compute. His words made no sense. An overwhelming feeling of dread descended, and her limbs felt numb. She turned to him, his coffee cup only half poured, the carafe suspended in the air. “Sold?” Her eyebrows drew in and everything moved slow, like they were trudging through mud on a hot day.
“Yes!” He continued to beam, clearly having a great day. “Very unexpected, but I signed the paperwork yesterday with my attorney. Meant to talk to you about it sooner, Clementine, truly, but it’s just been a whirlwind. Moving across country after thirty years is not something I recommend.”
“Right.” She blinked several times, trying to force her brain to think clearly. This couldn’t be true. What was she going to do now? Two minutes ago, she had her dream right there in her grasp, and now it had been cruelly snatched from her. She felt heavy, like a stone sinking slowly to the bottom of the lake.
Rothstein nodded toward the half-poured cup in her hand, and Clementine swallowed, attempting to regain functionality, her footing. Finally, she located the will to finish the pour and handed him his coffee with a shaky hand. “I was surprised to hear you’d be interested, though. That’d be a big leap for someone like you. Luckily, you’re off the hook.”
Her gaze fell to the counter where it remained. She remembered back to her childhood and how staring at the ground had been her crutch on those days in school when she just wanted to remain invisible, when the town kids were making plans for parties she often wasn’t invited to, talking about their summer camps she could never afford, or enumerating the details of the brand new pair of jeans their mom had bought for them. The worst. Clementine would drop her head and try to shrink herself to as small as possible, a habit that, until this moment, she thought she’d broken. “I didn’t want to be off the hook,” she said quietly, raising her gaze.
“What’s that?”
She touched the cool granite countertop, and the sensation helped anchor her. She’d lost her gumption, her grit. She was that loser kid again and she couldn’t shake it. “Nothing.”
“Biscuits are great today,” he said around a hearty mouthful. “You make these?” He held the second half up in reverence.
She nodded.
“You folks amaze me,” he said, talking with his mouth open. “I owe you all for making this place what it’s become. Do you know how many people begged me not to close when news got out? Too damn many to count. That’s a testament to you and your staff.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rothstein. Who is it?”
“Who is what?” He squinted, still mauling his breakfast as crumbs fell onto the counter and his shirt.
“Who bought the Biscuit?”
“Oh, that Tangle Valley woman who does the wine out there. Madison LeGrange. Her dad was a golf buddy of mine. She’s smart as a whip. Not to worry.”
For the second time in five minutes, Clementine’s world skidded to a halt. Why? How? It made no sense that Madison would have any interest in a small business like this one. She had her hands full with her job at Tangle Valley, with all of her magazine articles and guest appearances at vineyards across the West Coast. She was well-known in these parts. Clementine had heard folks