Coffee Shopping

Chapter 1 - the encounter

In some ways it was another summer day, with wispy clouds spotting in the blue sky. Flags flapped half-assedly in the wind. The downtown towers were buzzing with suits and briefcases, a hive of activity that was bursting with the energy of the newly struck lunch hour. The smell of street foods - fresh donairs, rotating hot dogs, the sear of hamburgers - hung in the air, but Marnie Murano paid them barely any mind as she stepped out from the courthouse doors and strode onto the street beyond. She was fuming.
How dare he? That bastard wanted half the house AND to take the dog? He made it seem like it was such a small thing, and the smug smirk on his face across the oak table made Marnie want to puke in disgust. She regretted marrying him for a variety of reasons, but that look that he would give would always be on the top of the list. Good riddance.
It was perhaps the powerlessness of it all that was getting to her, as he had always been a domineering sort, but never in quite the way she wanted to. She had hinted at the ways she had wanted. He had never listened, and now here he was, still deaf to her needs. She was getting tired of the song and dance.
“Miss, watch out please,” came a demanding tone, as Marnie realized she was about to walk into a man in a dark suit and an obnoxiously large bluetooth earpiece on the side of his head. He dismissed her lazily with his eyes and continued on crossing the street.
Where was she again? She had to take a moment to orient herself, as being so lost in thought had brought her feet in one direction, but left her mind in another. Ah. Of course she was here.
Normandy’s Bistro and Cafe had only opened up a few short months ago, but it had quickly become her favorite spot, especially once the divorce had hit the fan. The tingling bell that sounded when she opened the door was always the cue for her stomach to rumble in response, and the smell of fresh baked bread hit her like a wall of salivation. She was in heaven. Or, in a hell of gluttony. She didn’t know which sounded better.
Mismatched wooden chairs with stuffed seats scattered the room around wooden tables that glistened with varnish. A cozy fire crackled in the corner, next to a lending library of books and a tray station of dirty cups. The giant chalkboard behind the till displayed the soup of the day and the local sandwiches. Marnie couldn’t decide which she wanted more, and let herself be overwhelmed by options for just a moment or two. There was no rush.
Perhaps her stomach decided otherwise, as it growled again in protest as she lingered further. Hush, she told it, this is my time. The thought caught her off guard, but it was true - the thoughts of her ex had washed away as soon as she stepped through the door. She decided to leave them there.
“One pastrami sandwich with extra pickles, hold the tomato please,” she asked politely to the tired looking barista. “And one medium black coffee to go.”
She paid and waited at the side, mindful of social distancing and the space it needed. Since all that began she had found herself coming to Normandy’s more now that it had opened up again, as she had missed it, so much so that she tried to recreate the cafe vibe at home. Nothing compared, but she still had the tighter pants and softer folds to show for it, despite not getting the full satisfaction. It was nice to be at a home away from home.
The sandwich and coffee arrived, and she took them and walked for the door. Thank goodness the coffee wasn’t scalding, as its lid quickly exploded off when she walked into someone, again, of course. She didn’t even want to look up.
What Marnie didn’t expect, of all things, was laughter, and as she looked up she was glad she finally did. He was striking, in a few ways, but mainly it was the cowlick at the side of his brow that did her in. She was smitten and apologetic at the same time, cause damn this guy was cute, but she barely had time to notice the curve of that jawline before she remembered she had to address the coffee that was now across his pressed shirt.
“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry sir, geez this is embarrassing -” she stammered quickly, beside herself with shame as she realized what she had just done. This was not her day. Or week. Or month. Fuck it, her year. 2021, please come sooner.
“No, no worries miss, I needed a new paint job anyways, and brown seems to be my colour today I guess,” came his calm reply. It was as effortless as if he had rehearsed the moment a million times before.
“Any colour would look good on you,” came her even quicker shot back, and she was just as surprised as he was at the quick wit. She seemed to have impressed him, as his eyes suddenly glittered with a deeper level of enjoyment. Where did that come from?
“You haven’t seen me in neon pink.”
They shared a laugh then, each equally unable to decide on what to say next, and not wanting the moment to disappear any sooner. Marnie was now without her coffee, but had gained something else just as quickly, as he slipped a business card smoothly into her hand.
“Maybe you’ll get the chance to though, through dinner perhaps? I’m a fan of pink,” came his bold ask.
“Y-yes, I mean, yeah, sure! When would you like to, how?” Marnie stammered with a flustered air.
He smiled in response. “Tomorrow night, I’m going to be at the Old Town Kitchen, be there for 8 if you’re free. Text me if you’re not. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a hot date with a dry cleaner,” he said as he dabbed at his chest with a spare napkin. She bid him goodbye with a smile, and as he left she had to stop herself from squealing. She did, however, quickly look at his card, before carefully putting it in her pocket, and it was her turn to be impressed as she read:

Westin Harlowe
Executive Chef/Owner
Old Town Kitchen

Her stomach rumbled again.