Page 22 of Riptide
Cara nodded, grateful, and watched Diane work.
The woman was efficient. Made the Americano perfectly, warmed the muffin and rang up the order with easy conversation.
"Here you go. Fresh and hot."
"Thanks." The artist woman took her order to a corner table, opened her sketchbook. Started drawing something Cara couldn't see from this angle.
Another customer appeared. Then two more. The afternoon rush building.
Diane handled it smoothly. Took orders, made drinks, chatted with customers like she'd been working here for months instead of minutes.
Cara stood in the kitchen doorway, watching this stranger save her business while she fell apart.
"She's good," Piper murmured, appearing beside her. "Like, really good."
"Yeah."
"You should hire her."
"I don't know if I can afford?—"
"You can’t afford not to." Piper turned to face her.
"I know."
"So let Reagan help. Let Diane help." Piper paused. "Let us all help. We're stronger together."
Cara's throat tightened. "When did you get so smart?"
"Born this way. It's a gift and a curse." Piper bumped her shoulder. "Seriously though. You look terrible. And I mean that with love."
"Thanks."
"Go home, and by that, I mean upstairs. Take a nap before our meeting tonight." Piper headed back to wipe down tables. "And maybe eat something. You're getting that shaky thing again."
Cara didn’t feel like she could just disappear on Diane, but she did eat. And hide out in her office for an hour with her feet up. By four, the rush had died down. Diane had handled it flawlessly—managing the register, troubleshooting equipment, even restocking the display cases with items Cara had forgotten about.
"You're really good at this," Cara said.
"Practice." Diane rinsed a cloth, hung it to dry. "Fifteen years in food service leaves a mark."
"What brought you to Haven Cove?"
Something flickered in Diane's expression. Pain, quickly hidden. "Needed a change. Seattle was... complicated. Reagan mentioned this place was quiet. That sounded good."
Another person running from something. Another person who'd landed in Haven Cove because it was safe and small and far away from whatever they were trying to forget.
Cara understood that more than Diane knew.
"Well, I'm glad you're here." She pulled out her phone. "Let me get your number. In case I need more help. Or just... whatever."
Diane read off the digits. Cara saved them, grateful for the lifeline she hadn't asked for but desperately needed.
"Thank you," Cara said.
"Don't thank me yet. We haven't discussed my rate." Diane smiled. "But Reagan said you were good people. That's worth something."
She grabbed her bag, headed for the door, paused. "Cara? Whatever you're dealing with... you don't have to do it alone. Just so you know."
