2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

Silas

" A n extra pump of pumpkin spice, please, Silas. And ooh, those cinnamon rolls do look good this morning. One of those, too, please."

I am not exceptionally fond of pumpkin spice.

I don't like pumpkin spice and I like everything: rain on Sunday mornings, coffee breath and the way tourists leave Canadian pennies in the tip cup.

Just means there's more to go in the jar at home.

From September 15 to American Thanksgiving, there is a cloud of anticipation every time the door to Coffee for the Sole opens. It's autumn and customers want to put an extra pump of pumpkin spice into everything—coffee, hot and cold, chai tea, regular tea, and even matcha. That combination should be illegal in the coffee shop world.

Here in Laandia, we get a lot of good things from our Canadian and American neighbours, but in my opinion, pumpkin spice is not one of them.

I add two extra pumps to Mrs.McKibbon's low-fat latte with oat milk and unicorn foam and cringe at the smell. Autumn is a beautiful time of the year—and a short one—with the colourful leaves creating a picture-perfect background anywhere you look and the skies near perfect for star-gazing. Here in Battle Harbour, we're so far north that we average about six weeks for fall, from the time the leaves begin to turn to expecting snow before Halloween.

The steady stream of tourists who come for whale-watching and to gaze lovingly at the castle, home of the Laandian royal family, may dry up in the fall, but the townspeople with their obsession with pumpkin-spice everything, more than make up for the loss of tourist business.

Of course, the steady stream of those from away begins again with the first snowfall; the ski resorts north of the town are popular and there are many who will brave the cold wind blowing in from the Atlantic to wander the streets of Battle Harbour, trying to catch sight of one of the members of the royal family. Tourists come in for coffee and gallons of hot chocolate, and for a taste of our famous unicorn froth, and at that time of the year, there is no one asking for their drink to be extra flavoured with a vegetable spice.

But that is weeks away. Until then, it's pumpkin spice time.

"Did you see this?" Leodie thrusts her phone in my face as I slide a sleeve onto the cup. "Fenella Carrington!"

"And?" Yes, my heart gives a stupid thump at the sound of her name but it's nothing like Leodie's excitement. Fenella Carrington is a… I'm not sure what she is. Socialite? Supermodel? Internet darling ?

Billionaire.

I know she's beautiful, with a sheet of black hair and fascinating eyes that seem to be an actual shade of purple. I know she probably smells of some exotic concoction of flowers and fresh air and—

I may have a crush on a woman who's in an advertisement selling handbags.

Sad.

I may have a crush on her, but Leodie is a fangirl, way worse than I am, and because of this, I indulge her. "What are you showing me?" I ask her because the way she jumps around I can't focus on her phone.

"She threw a bottle of Pepsi at some guy! And a diamond ring. And it wasn't some guy, it was Tiger from Opium, so I guess they've broken up. Did you know she was engaged?" She finishes with a note of accusation in her tone.

Leodie is my mother's sister-in-law's second cousin—everyone is related here in Battle Harbour—and has been working with me at Coffee for the Sole for a little over a year. She's been a big help with her ideas and her energy, but the energy gets a little much sometimes.

"I don't actually know her," I remind my second-in-command.

Fenella Carrington is a friend of Prince Gunnar and has visited Laandia twice, that I know of. She seemed to have a liking for my coffee, so she was in here every day while she was in town, but seeing her that often doesn't mean I know her, just enough to develop an unhealthy fascination with a woman because she smiled at me.

It might not be unhealthy; it's not like I'm obsessed with her like Leodie, who follows every social media account Fenella has and keeps griping that she never got to serve her. I just think she's… I don't know what I think. She seemed a bit standoffish and pretentious, but she's the daughter of a billionaire and hangs out with royalty, so what can you expect?

Prince Gunnar is a good guy. All the princes are. Everyone in Battle Harbour knows them, but I wouldn't say I'm close friends with any of them.

They live in a castle. I live in a run-down apartment and run a coffee shop. There is a divide, just as much as there is between Fenella Carrington and me. I am aware of this, which means it's fine that I think she's pretty.

Very pretty.

It's not like anything would ever happen between us.

Leodie rolls her eyes. I've noticed she's big on eye-rolling, and it's very dramatic because Leodie has very big eyes. Velvety brown with coats of mascara, all behind a pair of green glasses which somehow enlarges them even more.

She's very dramatic as well, which can get a little exhausting at times but is mostly fun because I'm pretty low-key. It takes a lot for me to react, and that drives Leodie a little crazy. At least that's what she keeps telling me.

There's not a lot to react to in Battle Harbour. It's a fishing village, on the edge of the Atlantic, neighbours to the Arctic Circle. Our claim to fame is being the prettiest town in all of Laandia for ten years running, our pub-to-population ratio is impressive, and Coffee for the Sole, which I own, brews the best coffee in the Maritimes.

The daily lineups do give it some merit.

Battle Harbour's claim to fame is definitely the castle.

The castle at the top of the cliff overlooking the town, from where the king of Laandia rules our fair country.

King Magnus, and his four sons and one daughter.

There are quite a few singles that stop by Battle Harbour to throw their hat in the ring, trying to nab a royal.

This is where Fenella Carrington comes back into play. She nabbed one of the royals for a time. I've never had an acrimonious breakup, but I've never been such good friends with one of my exes like Gunnar and Fenella.

It's nice to see in this world where scandals and holding grudges seem to be the norm.

"Looks like she dumped him good," Leodie says, still studying her phone.

"Is there any other way to dump someone? Morning, Sophie." I smile as the woman steps up to the counter. "Usual?"

"Please."

Sophie likes a flat white—espresso with a layer of microfoam. I make a point to know all the regulars and remember their preferred drinks. I've been at the helm of Coffee for the Sole for almost ten years, after a heart attack caused my father to retire and cut short my post-secondary career. I was fine leaving the University of Laandia to come back here—I may be a small business owner, but I have no love for studying business.

Astronomy is my jam, but I do okay with the shop.

I took what my parents had built and made it better, taking the tired cornerstone of the town square and updating everything—the dishes and décor, the brands of tea, and bringing in a supply of almond and oat milk that my father refused to stock. I splurged on a Victoria Arduino espresso maker that I may still be paying for to this day.

Coffee for the Sole is now the first stop for tourists visiting Battle Harbour. We have a Facebook page and an Instagram account, thanks to Leodie.

Leodie asks Sophie about the Fenella video because, apparently, Sophie is now friends with Fenella. At least she talks about her like she is.

I move on to the next customer. Pumpkin spice latte with three pumps. Americano for the next. Two iced coffees for Rebecca from the bakery.

My dream was to be an astronaut. It's a strange dream for a person who really doesn't like to fly, or do much at a fast speed, and especially odd for someone who lives in a country without a space program. But from the time I was four until I was fourteen, all I wanted was to see the stars.

And then my sister Emily got pregnant .

She was seventeen; it's not unheard of for teenage pregnancies to happen in Battle Harbour, but it is uncommon for teenage parents to run away and leave the baby behind.

With my parents.

My parents—Alister and Betty Bell—had their children later in life, so taking responsibility for their first grandchild in their mid-fifties was a bit of a shock. One day they had been talking about retiring and selling the coffee shop, and the next, my mother had taken a leave to look after Wyatt.

No one ever voiced a word of complaint at the new normal. Of course, we never wanted to see Emily leave, but she had gotten involved with one of the McKibbon boys and not one of the good ones. Rob's family were all fishermen and that wasn't the life he wanted.

Neither was a baby at eighteen.

My sister was young and scared and easy to influence. She was also head over heels in what constitutes as love at seventeen so when Rob suggested the baby would be better off with our parents, it didn't take her long to agree.

At least that's what I think. Emily never talked to me about it. That stung because, before Rob, we had been close; as close as you can be close to your sister who is three years older than you and likes fast cars and drinking Screech with her friends.

Emily liked it when I told her about the stars.

But then she left, running out of town in the middle of the night and leaving four-month-old Wyatt asleep in his crib in her room. My parents gave up their plans of retiring and became his guardians. I gave up my dream of jetting off into space because there was no way I was going to leave my nephew behind after his mother abandoned him.

It wasn't all bad; now sixteen, Wyatt is an amazing kid. And I started studying astronomy on my own. I may never visit the stars, but I certainly know what's up there.

And maybe someday I'll find that person who wants me to tell her about the night sky, but I'm not holding my breath. I have my shop, my friends, family. It's nothing like the bright lights and drama of the TikTok clips that Leodie shows me, but it's a good life.

It's enough.