15. Britta

Chapter fifteen

Britta

S tella and I get home late. We've had a long day in the sun, we're both dead on our feet, and I've told Annie I'd be at the shop when it opens at six a.m. But when I crawl into bed, I can't fall asleep. My mind keeps turning over everything that's happened today.

Introspection isn't my favorite, and I've had to do a lot of it t. Squished in between examining my anger towards Mom and grappling with regret for not taking Stella's career into account, is the realization that I did run from Dex. And I did it on a monumental day for him he'd invited me to be part of. He's been nothing but generous, and I chose not to have a mildly awkward conversation about "expectations" with him.

The truth is, I think I used that as an excuse because I am afraid of "catching" feelings for him. And I'd really rather not. I don't want the heartbreak of saying goodbye.

But I remember Mom saying something when she was first diagnosed with Alzheimer's: I won't let fears about my future get in the way of enjoying my now, and maybe she was right

Mom had squeezed the most out of life first. Some people would have traveled and checked as much as possible off their bucket list. Mom focused on loving everyone, giving as much of herself as she could before that self disappeared.

Except that part of Mom never disappeared, even when she couldn't give much more than a smile. Her friendly and open nature is why everyone remembers her. Not her coffee or ebelskiver, but the fact she made and served them with all the love she could.

Remembering Mom like that opens a place in my heart that's been sealed shut. Relief and acceptance slip in, loosening the stranglehold guilt has had on me. With that loosening, the tears I've held back for so long come freely. The distant sound of waves lapping the shore lulls me to sleep.

The next morning, my eyes are red and puffy, and I look like I got even less sleep than I did—which wasn't much. I'm so tired, but I feel lighter than I have in…I honestly don't remember how long. The waves that sounded far away and gentle last night are louder, crashing with the energy of high tide, reminding me of Dex, his kiss, his win, and the possibility of achieving the impossible.

The last two days with him and Stella, and even Archie, were exactly the break I didn't think I needed. My life since Mom got sick has been one of routine and schedules. When the unexpected happened, it usually came as an emergency. I've lived in fear of something happening that wasn't scheduled.

Staying an extra day in San Clemente wasn't on my calendar, but it was the best day I've had in years. I couldn't have anticipated how much I'd enjoy watching a competition for a sport I barely knew anything about, or that I would fall in love with it. Everything about yesterday was unpredictable, in the very best way. Maybe that's part of what made me run too. I'm used to pulse-racing anxiety—not happiness—that comes with not knowing what's next.

The time both with and watching Dex was a reset button. I feel invigorated. I'm excited to work with Annie, not just to stay busy, but also because there may be something I can learn from her I can use back at Britta's.

But I don't want to think about going back to Paradise today. I'm living in the now, so even though it's only a little after five a.m., I send Dex a message. He's an early riser, but I hope he's got his phone on silent if he's let his alarm have a day off.

Dear World's Greatest Surfer. Thanks for everything yesterday. I'm sorry I left so suddenly. I owe you dinner. When do you get back?

Thirty minutes later, as I head out the door for Annie's, my phone dings. I dig it out of my purse. It has to be Dex, and my lips kick into a grin when I see his name on my screen.

Dear World's Greatest Barista. Thanks for being there. You DO owe me dinner. Be back next week.

My laugh at his greeting morphs into a frown. If Dex is gone for a week, and I leave LA when Stella does in ten days, that will only give Dex and me a couple of days to hang out. The lightness that had me floating only a few minutes ago leaks away.

Ten days also doesn't give me time to do much for Annie. And Britta's will still be closed…

All things to consider.

I arrive at Annie's a couple minutes before Annie, who gives me a forced smile that holds little happiness. She looks even more fatigued than the first time we met.

She unlocks the door, and I follow her in. After locking the door behind us, Annie lets out a deep sigh, then locks on a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"How was the competition?" She takes a chair off a table and sets it upright.

"Amazing. Absolutely incredible to watch." I follow her lead and set more chairs back in place. "You heard Dex won, right?"

Annie nods, and a flash of joy tugs the edges of her lips higher. "Didn't I say he was magic on the water?"

My face warms as I nod. I meant the competition was amazing, but Annie wasn't off in assuming I meant Dex. He was the best part of it.

We talk more while setting up the dining room. I give her as many details as she asks for, but I sense an unnatural quietness in Annie. I don't know her well, but one day watching her interact with customers and employees has given me a pretty good sense of who she is.

A safe place. Annie's isn't just a refuge for people from their busy—often difficult—lives. Annie herself is too.

I imagine most of the time that brings her a lot of joy, but I wonder if it's a heavy burden to carry when your own life has been turned upside down.

As we prep the espresso machines and workstations, I muster up the courage to ask her a real question, hoping I won't overstep.

"Is everything okay, Annie?"

She takes a breath, like she's considering how to answer. "Diva is scheduled to come in at six, but the bus is never on time. Mitzi's baby is sick, and she doesn't have childcare for him, so she won't be in today. Hopefully Sergio can work both shifts."

"Whew." I wipe my hands on my apron, already breaking into sympathy sweat for Annie. I'd only planned on volunteering for a few hours, but that won't be enough. "I can stay. We'll make it work."

Annie's shoulders relax, and she leans in my direction. "If I thought I could do without you, I'd say no. I'll just say thank you instead."

"I'm happy to help." I chew my lip, not wanting to push, but still feel like she hasn't answered my question. "But… how are you ?"

Annie pauses, then drops her head and shakes it. "Tired. I'm tired, Britta. You heard about my Keesha's accident?"

"Your daughter?"

She nods.

"A little."

"She's been in a rehab center, but my insurance is pushing for her to be released, and she's going to need full-time care when she comes home." Annie wipes the already-shining metal counters with an energy like a genie might appear to grant her three wishes.

I bet I could guess what her number one wish would be.

My heart tugs with my own memories of my family and me coordinating our schedules and lives around Mom's care.

"Have you got help?"

"I've got plenty of friends and my church who have offered." Annie stops scrubbing and leans against the counter with her hand on her hip. "But I'm stretched in two directions when I'm here instead of with Keesha."

I bob my head in sympathy. "I get that. My mom had Alzheimer's. My family and I spent five years juggling our businesses and her care. Most of her care fell on me." I take the rag from Annie and rub down the counter opposite the one she's worked on.

"When did she pass?" Annie asks gently.

Not if… When. "

She knows without being told. That's what makes Annie a safe place.

"End of April, but I'm still surprised some days when I wake and remember she's gone."

"I'm sorry, Britta. You're too young to lose a parent." Annie rests a warm hand on my shoulder, which, somehow, is more reassuring than a hug. As if she's saying I'm here for you instead of I'm so sad for you.

"Yeah, it is." I face Annie again. "I miss her every day, but I don't think I'd change anything, even if I could. It was an honor to care for her."

Annie nods slowly. "No one will take care of Keesha like I will. I know better than anyone what she needs."

"We felt the same about Mom, too. We didn't want to put her in a nursing home. That's not the best decision for every family, but for us it worked, but it wasn't easy. None of us could have done it alone and still run our own businesses." I point to the espresso machine. "Can I make you a coffee?"

Annie tilts her head in a yes. "I've had a big chain make an offer to buy Annie's ."

It's my turn to be surprised. "Would you take it?"

"I don't want to, but if it comes down to choosing where I'm needed most, the answer will always be Keesha." Her mouth twists with the impossible choice she's already considering.

"I'm here for whatever you need, Annie. At least for another week and a half." Last night, when I agreed to stay as long as Stella does, ten days seemed like a long time. Now it seems too short.

"Like I've said, you are a godsend." Annie reties her multi-colored apron over her caftan—a rich purple today—then walks to the door and flips over the closed sign. "Time to open."

Over the next six days, I'm with Annie every time she flips that sign and says those same words. And I'm still there when she leaves for the day to take care of Keesha and the afternoon shift manager shows up. I help through the lunch rush, then head back to the apartment between two and three.

I'm always exhausted when I get there, but Stella and I find something different to do every day. Walk a new beach looking for shells and sea glass. Try a food we've never eaten before. Shop cute boutiques along PCH.

The only thing that doesn't change is how much I enjoy the sunshine and the soothing shush of the ocean.

The more time I spend at Annie's, the more responsibility Annie gives me; leaving me in charge while she runs to the rehab center to check on Keesha; trusting me to balance the books; and even asking me to write the schedule for the following week. It's all stuff I've done thousands of times at Britta's , and the familiarity of the tasks eases some of the longing I feel for my coffee shop. Annie's feels like a little piece of home.

Today, Annie left me completely in charge while she met with her daughter's doctor to talk about moving her to a rehab center. I was so happy to help. Like, happier than I've been in a really long time.

And I really enjoy working with Mitzi and Diva, but I also like the other baristas who work there. Manny, who's putting himself through college; Carla, who lost her home when she couldn't pay her hospital bills after getting hit by an uninsured driver; and Sergio who's learning all the ropes so he can open his own coffee shop in El Salvador once he has enough money to return home.

At the end of the shift, Annie comes back to the shop and sits at a table doing some paperwork, but I feel her observing me. When I hang up my apron to leave, she catches me.

"Can we talk in the office?" she asks, and I follow her to the tiny room at the back of the shop that barely has space for a desk and chair, let alone the stacks of papers on both.

Annie glances around like she's just realized there's nowhere for us to sit, then shrugs and leans against the desk.

"I'm just going to come out with it. I need to sell so I can take care of Keesha, and I could really use your help until then, if you can stay longer. Unless…" She catches my eye and doesn't let it go.

"What?"

"I'd rather you bought Annie's than some chain that will ruin everything I've built." Her eyes burrow into me, unearthing the dream I've had to start a business of my own. The dream I set aside to run Britta's .

"I'm not sure if you're in a position to buy," Annie continues. "Or if you've even thought of staying in LA for good, but if you're interested, I'd sell to you before anyone else."

"Buy Annie's ?" Even after our conversation the other day, I'd never thought about buying Annie's.

Her chin plunges up and down. "More than just the business. I own this property too. I think you're the person who could do right by my baby, so I'll sell everything to you for less than what the chain is offering. Are you interested?"

I stare at Annie. I should say no.

I don't.