The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara

Twenty-Nine

I have walked more miles in these fifteen hundred square feet for the last six hours than in the previous six months in all of New York.

There were no problem customers, only pleasant clients, which was perfect for getting my feet wet. I’ve already learned the names of five of them who Celine says are regulars.

My cheeks hurt from smiling, and I’m finding myself saying ‘thank you’ and ‘have a nice day’ in my mind every few seconds. But I enjoyed it, which is surprising. The first couple of hours were tough, I’ll admit. Not that I’m unpleasant, it’s just that being this pleasant doesn’t come naturally. Making small talk, waiting for people to choose their food, repeating the orders to make sure I got them right, smiling. But I mimicked the way Celine talked to customers, and based on what she just told me five minutes ago—“People love you”—I think I did OK.

“You don’t have to stay if you’re tired,” she says after the last customers leave.

“We have to clean up,” I say stoically and start wiping down the tables.

“I imagine it’s quite a lot for your first day,” she says.

“First day? Does that mean there’s going to be a second? Did I get the job?”

“Of course. You did great today.”

“Thank you,” I say, trying to sound more enthusiastic than exhausted.

“Thank you. You did great, and don’t feel like you need to put on a brave face for me. I’m tired too, but I’m used to it. I’ve been doing this for twelve years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yes, it is,” she says, deep in thought.

She seems to love doing it, but it’s almost as if she yearns for more.

“Is Café Azure yours?” I ask.

“My grandparents opened it in 1955, my parents took over, and now it’s my turn.”

“That’s so nice that it stayed in the family.”

“It is. It’s also a big responsibility.”

“I’m sure. But you do enjoy it, right? You’re great at it, and your baking and cooking skills are amazing. Not to mention your coffee. Delicious!”

She chuckles. “Recipes passed from generation to generation. I learned them when I was a kid; I could do them with my eyes closed.”

“I’ve never known my way around a kitchen,” I say, a bit ashamed.

“I’d be happy to teach you.”

“One day, maybe,” I say and then realize our arrangement is only for a short while, just until I talk to her brother and find Max, so that day will probably never come.

We finish cleaning and lock up.

“Which way are you going?” she asks, in front of the café.

“Not sure. Left, I think. I’m at The Lantern Inn.”

“Susan’s place. OK. How long do you plan to stay here?”

I hesitate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Just thinking that it might not be practical to stay at an inn if you’re going to be here for a while.” She winks. “It’s lovely but not cheap.”

I smile. “That’s true, but I’m only staying there for another night. Tomorrow I have to find something else. Even if I could afford it, she’s fully booked.”

“Not surprised. And did you rent a place already?”

“Actually, I wanted to ask if it would be OK if I bring my suitcases to work tomorrow; I’ll put them somewhere in the back. And then maybe on my lunch break—if I have one—or after work, I could go around town to look for a room to rent somewhere.”

“No problem. You can leave them in the back office. And take all the time you need.”

She looks like she wants to say something else but doesn’t.

“Appreciate that. I’ll see you at eight. Good night, Celine,” I say, and I’m about to leave.

“Good night. Maya—” she says and stops. “Not sure if you’d be interested, but I have two spare bedrooms. I live alone in my family’s house, so you can rent one if you want.”

“That’d be amazing,” I say.

She smiles. “They’re obviously not as nice as Susan’s, but they’re not bad either.”

Celine’s kindness is the type that renders one speechless and is causing me confusion. My opinion of Ethan Delphy is definitely not a good one. I imagine it’ll get worse once I meet him, just from what I know so far. I wonder how twins can be so different.

“I bet they’re great. But, are you sure? I mean, you just met me.”

“That’s not technically correct. I’ve known you for a year,” she says with a big smile. “Usually, landlords rent to people they’ve never met, so this is a step up,” she says. “I already have your info for the application from earlier today, so it should be an easy process.”

“I’m speechless. You’re a lifesaver,” I say.

“Just wait until you live with me for a few days. You might change your mind.” She laughs. “I’m not the most organized person.”

“That’s fine. I’m used to—”

I want to say cleaning after David. He was the biggest slob in the history of slobs.

“Would you like to come by, take a look, and see if you even like the place?”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. Since you have to leave the inn in the morning, you don’t have much time.”

“Of course. I’d love to,” I say and as we start walking, I repeat, “That’s so nice of you.”

“I have my selfish reasons too. It gets lonely in that house, all by myself. With Ethan gone, all I have is Marcel—”

I know her brother doesn’t live here. The question is, when will he come back? Is this a good time to ask? And who is Marcel? I give her a questioning look.

“Ethan is my brother and Marcel is my cat. He’s an old grump.”

“Your brother or the cat?”

“Both,” she says, laughing, and I laugh too.

“So your brother doesn’t live in Carmel?” I ask as we make our way through narrow streets lit by pale yellow lamps.

“Technically, he does, but he travels a lot. The last time I saw him was Christmas. He now stays with our parents in Florida,” says Celine as she turns right on a narrow road. “But he’ll be back soon. You might meet him if you’re still here.”

Celine points at a cottage like the ones I admired last year. “This is it.”

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“And old. It needs some love. I’m doing a thing here a thing there, but—”

We walk into a flower garden, which is a bit wild but cared for. The cottage has a beach house vibe, with its white and blue in the living room and the ‘sitting room’, which leads to a massive terrace with an ocean view. The double oven and stainless steel appliances in the kitchen are clearly Celine’s touch.

“Let me show you the bedrooms,” she says, and I follow her.

The first one has a more traditional look than the rest of the house, with heavier-set furniture. There’s a massive king-size bed in the center, a leather armchair and a small round table by the window. I like it, although it’s a bit dark.

“And the second one,” she says as we walk into a much lighter, albeit smaller room. A queen-size bed, a bay window overlooking the beach, light blue drapes, and off-white curtains.

Two of the walls are covered in shelves and crammed with books. The room is painted a light shade of blue. If I had my own beach house, this is precisely what you’d see in it. Except for the books, they’d be organized by color or by genre, depending on my mood.

“I love this room,” I say, and judging by Celine’s smile, she’s not surprised.

“It’s settled then,” she says. “I’ll finish the paperwork tonight, both for the job and the room. Weekly rental, right?” she asks.

“Yes, please. Because I don’t know—”

“How long you’ll be in town. I know. I remember what you said.” She rubs her hands together. “Tomorrow morning, you should be all set. What’s that saying? Killing two birds with one stone?”

I laugh. “I got lucky today.”

“The stars aligned,” she says, smiling.

Although today didn’t go as expected, I feel strangely at peace. This small town, this kind woman, the cozy café, this charming cottage, the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below, make me feel inexplicably at home. As if I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I don’t know what it means, and I don’t know what tomorrow will bring or how or when I will meet Ethan Delphy and how that meeting will go, but for now, today, tonight, I smile. The world is still full of possibilities. No doors have been closed for me today. On the contrary, they opened.