Anathema (Causal Enchantment #1)(3)
“And what do you plan on doing with all the pieces?” she asked, lifting a brow in query.
“I don’t know … glue them back together?” I said with the certainty of a gas station attendant asked to perform solo brain surgery.
The woman smirked. “I bought that lantern in France. It’s one of a kind and it certainly can’t be glued back together,” she informed me, her tone cool, yet serene.
Oh no. This was hers. “I’m so sorry. There was so much rain! I was distracted and I just … hit it. I’m so sorry. I’ll pay you for it.”
“You have ten thousand dollars?” Those haunting eyes gazed down at my rain–soaked department store clothes with amusement.
I felt the blood drain from my face. “No, but—” The ground swayed, and I tasted bitter bile forming in the back of my throat. I didn’t have ten thousand dollars. I had exactly forty–seven dollars in my bank account and no job.
She regarded me silently, her expression unreadable. Finally she spoke. “I’m Sofie. What’s your name?”
I hesitated, swallowing. “Evangeline.”
“Evangeline …” My name sounded so elegant, rolling off her tongue. “Please, come in and warm up with something hot. On the house, of course. I insist.” She reached out with a delicate–looking hand to help me to my feet. “Leave all of this. I’ll clean it up later.”
Confused by her kindness, I accepted, following her like a disoriented puppy.
A soft buzz of conversation and jazz music enveloped me as I stepped into the warm café. A stone fireplace was the source of that heat, a blaze of fierce orange flames dancing on its hearth.
“Welcome to Newt’s Brew,” Sofie said as she led me past sharply–dressed patrons lounging in upholstered chairs of varying style and pattern as they sipped lazily from colorful mugs. “Here, sit.” She pointed to a stool by the counter. “Hot chocolate?”
I nodded.
“I also offer lattes, cappuccinos, espresso, herbal teas—anything at all, if you would prefer something else. And of course, the most supremely delectable pastries,” she added, noticing my eyes bulge as I observed the array of sweets in the display case behind the counter.
“Hot chocolate would be wonderful, thanks,” I said, curiosity pulling my eyes away to scan the place—all dark hardwoods, rich fabrics, and ornate moldings.
Sofie went behind the counter and tossed me a large towel. “You look like a drowned cat.” Her accent made the statement sound exotic.
I glimpsed my reflection in a mirror on the wall behind her, and had to agree. I spent the next few minutes quietly drying my long hair, wishing I could strip out of my wet clothes and curl up by the fire.
“Follow me, please,” Sofie said, heading over to the fireplace. “Would you mind?” she asked the couple sitting in the seats directly in front of it, as she gestured at me.
“Oh no, that’s okay!” I quickly countered, embarrassed, but the couple was already up and on their way out the door, all smiles.
Sofie motioned to one of the chairs.
“You really didn’t need to do that,” I said, guilt creasing my forehead.
She waved my protests away, her other hand pointing insistently toward the chair.
Accepting with a sheepish smile, I sank into the chair, my wet jeans clinging uncomfortably, then closed my eyes as my body absorbed the heat.
Moments later I heard something being set on the table beside me and opened my eyes. A mug of hot chocolate mounded high with whipped cream sat there; Sofie had settled in the seat across from me. I stared at her in awe. No one, aside from my own mother, had ever shown a quarter of the compassion that this stunning woman was doling out so freely and unwarranted to a girl who had just broken one of her valuable possessions.
“So, how do you propose to pay me back for my lantern?”
Her words yanked me back to reality. My gaze dropped to floor, and that pungent bile crept up to touch my taste buds again. The simple act of breathing became difficult. Great question. How was I going to come up with ten thousand dollars? Though I’d tried hard to find a job in the last four months, the rejections were always the same: experience needed. And I was fresh from high school graduation—no experience here.
The silence dragged on as I studied the flames. Finally I braved Sofie’s gaze again. She was leaning back in her chair with the poise and style of a super model, her fitted black dress accentuating her curves and highlighting her creamy pale skin.
She spoke before I could. “You know, many people would say that it’s my fault for putting something so expensive out on the sidewalk. It was bound to get broken,” she offered, still with no emotion.
My mouth opened to respond but no words came out. That thought hadn’t crossed my mind. The excuse would certainly get me off the hook, but I knew my conscience would never accept it, instead pricking me endlessly like a sliver in my clothes. “No. You’re nice, offering me an excuse, but I broke it and I should pay for it … somehow.”
An oppressive weight settled on my chest and I sent my eyes to roam the room again. The tables were covered with dirty mugs waiting to be picked up and I could see that the wet floor was in desperate need of a mop. It dawned on me—I hadn’t seen anyone serving customers. “I could work here?” I blurted without thinking. A vivid image of me in my Sketchers and faded jeans, tripping over a chair leg and scalding a customer with a tray of hot drinks, popped into my mind. I quickly amended my suggestion. “I could wash dishes, clear tables, run errands—whatever you need. All day, seven days a week. Whatever you need. It may take a while for me to earn the money …” More like forever.