How to Love Your Neighbour(5)
Hugo, a twenty-one-year-old college student who made Grace feel ancient despite her being only seven years older than he was, burst through the swinging door from the back.
“Sup Gracie-girl.” His long dark hair was tucked into a ponytail.
“Not much, Hugo. Good thing you showed on time. You want to unlock the door? We’re ready to go.”
“I’m always on time.” He winked at her exaggeratedly, pointing his index finger her way, making Grace laugh. His serious lack of flirting skills made him endearing. The customers loved him.
Grace laughed, lifting her brows in question.
Hugo chuckled. “Yeah. That’s fair. But I’m charming.”
“You are that.” Which was why Ellie let him get away with his perpetual lateness.
Hugo lowered his chin, focused on attaching his name tag to his apron. “Big plans tonight?”
He asked it every shift, teasing her when she told him she was curling up with books or a design program. This time, she waited until he was looking at her. “Moving into my place. Any chance you could help? I don’t have much but my bed and dresser are heavy.”
He clapped his hands together. “Yes! Finally. I will help in exchange for you letting me plan the shindig to end all shindigs.”
Grace laughed. “First, you’re not old enough to use that word. Second, no parties. Too much going on. I just want to get in there and get settled.” She didn’t have the cash to do most of the renovations that needed to be done but being able to call it her home would offset her impatience about that.
“Fine. Small, simple gathering to celebrate then. I’m not budging.” He crossed his arms over his chest, lifting his chin in the air.
Shaking her head, she patted his arm. “Deal. But not until I’m ready.”
Hugo gave an exaggerated fist pump. “I’ll take it.”
Grace shook her head, starting an espresso order for the customer who’d be walking through the door shortly.
On cue, Mrs. Kern, Grace’s favorite professor, walked through the door, smiling at Grace. “Morning.”
“Morning. How’s your Saturday?” Grace pushed the espresso across the countertop.
“The girls were still asleep when I left so it’s been blissful,” she said, pulling a wallet out of her oversize purse.
During the week, Mrs. Kern was all business, her blond hair in a tight braid, makeup expertly applied, her attire a great blend of classic and functional.
On the weekends, however, she wore sweats, her hair loose, face makeup free. She was Grace’s idol, and though she couldn’t be more than thirty-five, Grace wanted to be her when she finally grew up.
“Sounds nice. You marking our papers today?” Grace leaned on the counter while Hugo helped the two teens carrying backpacks who approached the display cabinet.
“Actually, I’m finalizing some exciting news I’ll share Monday.” She hesitated, her easy smile sliding into something . . . different. “Listen, Grace, I have a favor. A big one.”
Her excitement over whatever her teacher was finalizing fizzled. Grace was horrible at saying no to favors. It was how she ended up walking five dogs when she didn’t even own one. How she’d ended up telling Morty of course she didn’t mind staying at his house longer. How she ended up working this Saturday at the shop when she’d had the day off and could have spent it moving into her house. Or chatting with a hot guy on the beach.
“Sure.” Stretching her mouth into a smile, she hoped it looked genuine. She should have made herself a double shot of what she was serving.
“The girls have their birthday party next Sunday. Our face painter canceled. She’s got shingles, of all things. I’m in a bind.”
Pulling her lip between her teeth, Grace pictured dozens of squirmy seven-year-old girls asking for butterflies and unicorns to be drawn on their cheeks. If she could go back, she wouldn’t use her summer painting faces at a carnival as one of her truths in the icebreaker, two truths and a lie, her first class this semester in Mrs. Kern’s course.
“You’re a great artist,” Grace said weakly.
“Not on skin!” Mrs. Kern picked up her coffee. “Please. I’ll pay you three hundred dollars.”
Whoa. This favor was looking up. She had a small nest egg but that much money would let her splurge on a few extras.
“I feel bad taking your money,” Grace heard herself say.
“No reason to. I’m happy to give it if it means I don’t have to do it.”
“Then, I guess I’m in.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
Today had taken a series of detours she couldn’t have predicted. It took all of her brainpower to focus on her job instead of twirling around with the excitement of it all. She was moving into her own house. Tonight. She thought about that weird saying about the first day of the rest of someone’s life. Tonight was the first night of her dreams coming true. Look out, Harlow Beach. Here I come.
3
Noah Jansen waited outside of the fitness club for his younger brother, checking his watch again. He hated the restless energy coursing through his body and wanted to get inside, hit the punching bag. His phone buzzed with a text.
“Shit,” he said, looking at the screen.
Something came up at the radio station his brother owned—well, technically, the station he and his two brothers owned. Typing out a quick “that’s fine” text, he spun around, thinking he’d go for a run on the beach. He’d already gone paddleboarding but that hadn’t settled anything inside of him either.