Page 53 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
Betty
Is it weird that I’m nervous?
When I got Storee’s text last night, I was thrown off. How did she get my number? Then again, it’s a small town. I think if you know the right people, you could find out anything. But when she asked me to have coffee, I felt... excited.
It hasn’t been easy, being here, not knowing anyone but Uncle Dwight, someone who I’ve started to notice isn’t the most popular in town. Walking around, few people say hi to him, but I do see others waving and talking on the side of the streets. Maybe because he’s not as chatty as others, but it will be nice to chat with someone other than him.
And Storee seemed really nice.
I also brought my notebook so I can sit and study the atmosphere of Warm Your Spirits, which has such a cute nameto begin with. But also probably a wonderful place to start when it comes to my research, because if any place can sell a warm Christmassy spirit, it’s the local coffee shop.
I open the door to the store, and I’m immediately presented with the smell of coffee and baked goods.
The register and where the coffees are made are in the center of the shop, which has a little 360 view of everything that’s going on, leaving the perimeter of the shop for seating. Decorations are carefully hung, pine and cranberry garland draping from one end to the other, while numerous Christmas trees decorate the space. Fake candles are propped up on every frosted windowsill, a fire is roaring in the back with real firewood, and subtle Christmas music plays in the background, offering that cozy Christmas feeling.
I take a mental note of the fireplace, because it’s real, not an electric one, no gas involved, something the owner must maintain throughout the day. That’s a really nice touch. Something I probably would never have thought of, because even though it smells like coffee in here, there is a subtle smoky scent that adds to the welcoming ambience.
Wanting to order first, I walk up to the counter, and an older woman with blonde hair greets me. “Hello, dear. What can I get you?”
“Hi, um, what’s your coziest drink?”
“Our peppermint mocha. Do you like peppermint?”
“I do. It sounds perfect.”
“Great. Are you going to drink it here?”
“Yes, I’m actually meeting Storee Black.”
“Oh, how nice. She’s over in the corner. I’ll bring you your drink when it’s ready so you can chat.”
“Wow, thank you.” I pay for my drink, and the woman gestures me in the right direction. I slip my card back in mypurse, lift my head, and then stop when my eyes fall on a very tall figure holding a baby and talking to Storee.
No freaking way.
For a brief moment, I think about bolting and texting her that I’m not feeling well so I’m skipping out on our meetup, but unfortunately for me, her eyes meet mine, and her face lights up with a smile.
Crap.
With a brave face, I head in that direction only for Storee to stand and greet me with a hug.
“Betty, it’s so great to see you. Thank you for meeting me.”
“Thank you for the invite,” I say, feeling all kinds of awkward as Atlas turns toward me, holding Storee’s cute baby, while another baby rests in the stroller.
“I believe you know Atlas.”
I give him a short wave. “Yes, hi. How are you?” My nice autopilot kicks in, because I couldn’t really care less about how he is. I honestly hope his leg rots and falls off. That’s how much I care about his well-being.
“Doing better.” He presses his hand to his chest. “Sternum has healed.”
“Well, good for you.”
He smirks... actually smirks and says, “Then again, holding this little bundle of joy could pretty much heal anything.” Atlas kisses Storee’s baby—God, I can’t remember her name, how terrible—and the baby giggles.
The baby looks like she’s older than one, which means she probably doesn’t take too kindly to strangers, leading me to believe that Atlas and Storee know each other well.
Wait, doesn’t her husband work at the farm? If I recall correctly, he does, which means... they probably are all friends.
