Home Is Where the Body Is

"Don’t be afraid to start all over again; you might like your new story better."

~Anonymous.

Sleepy seemed like the wrong adjective for a town so dearly dedicated to caffeine, but it was the only word that fit. When Annie Abbott read the brochure her parents sent—via mail, as if she couldn’t just Google the place—it boasted ten different coffee establishments. It might not seem like much, especially to someone moving up from the Portland area, but in a town with less than two thousand people, it showed serious dedication to the beverage.

She drove under the massive, arched sign that stretched from one post to another, the words Rainbow Falls etched into the weathered wood. It felt as if she’d rolled onto a movie set from the fifties. It was so different from the area she’d lived in where apartment complexes were stacked side by side like blocks.

These streets were lined with colorful picturesque houses, manicured lawns, lush trees, and black lampposts standing like wrought iron sentinels every twenty feet. She’d recently taken on a new client who wanted signage for their real estate business. This was the perfect backdrop. She might need to come back with her camera and get a few shots.

The town was a weird combination of eerie and welcoming. Maybe that was because, for the most part, she was used to a bustling city. On a typical Sunday morning, she would sleep late in the two-bedroom condo she’d shared with her college bestie, stumble into the kitchen for coffee, then laze about on the couch.

Maybe Portland was secretly just like this quiet cove every Sunday morning and Annie had no idea. She’d have to ask her friend, Vivian, who’d moved her boyfriend into the condo three weeks ago, to solve that mystery for her some time.

A man in knee socks and a striped robe sat on one of the porches she passed, a newspaper in his hand. He didn’t lift his head as she drove by.

A couple doors down from him, there was an adorable two-story house with gingerbread trim and a mug-shaped sign on the lawn that said, The Perfect Cup. It had regular residential homes on either side of it. Annie smiled at the charm of that. There’s one. Finding the other nine could be like a scavenger hunt. Annie loved anything to do with puzzles, mysteries, and following clues. A coffee-shop crawl might be as close as she got in this town.

The sign on the porch said Closed but made her crave coffee anyway.

She stifled a yawn as she drove past. Mm, coffee and a donut. Or maybe a Danish. According to Google Maps, her parents’ place was close by. She could always make some coffee there. Her mom had promised to leave her all stocked up on non-perishables. They’d only moved in a few months ago. While some people avoided change, her parents embraced it from every angle.

They’d decided to start their retirement by sailing around the world. A few weeks ago, they’d visited her at her condo to say their goodbyes and go through all of the necessary details of taking over their new home.

Annie was surprised when they’d informed her last Christmas of their plans. She knew her parents enjoyed adventure, but this was bigger than anything they’d ever done. Annie wanted to see the world, too, but not via the ocean. It was beautiful and inspiring to look at, but she was content with keeping her feet on land. Maybe dipping her toes in the water.

Turning onto Center Street, the architecture and landscape became more commercial with cobblestone streets and businesses on either side. In the center of the street, there was a large green space with trees and benches. She could picture people heading to those benches for their lunch breaks. More charm.

The shops were the old-school kind—squat boxes, many with wide picture windows giving passersby a view of the activity inside. Though she saw a smattering of people through a couple of the windows, the street was quiet. The town is quiet.

“Seems a little late for church,” she mused, but maybe that was where people were. Or, like her former self, tucked up in the cozy warmth of their beds.

When her stomach growled loudly, she made a split-second decision and turned into an angled parking spot. Directly in front of her was Just Coffee. That’s two. On one side, there was a bookstore and a pet food store. On the other, there was a bakery and a sandwich shop. All boasted Closed signs, and she wondered if it was a Sunday thing. A graphic designer by trade, she couldn’t help but notice their signage was outdated.

Her current roster of clients was keeping her busy enough that she couldn’t take on a lot of new work. That didn’t stop ideas from popping into her head though. There were other shops farther down in both directions, but Annie couldn’t read names. Of the ones in front of her, only the coffee shop was open.

Getting out of her truck, she stretched, pulling her thick, brown hair out of its ponytail confinement as her arms moved up. It was one of those stretches that felt good all the way through her body. She stifled another yawn. Between packing up her stuff, transferring her life in Portland to here, and the drive, she was ready to curl up on a couch or a beach chair with a good book. She tried to roll the stiffness out of her shoulders with no luck.

Anticipation hummed in her belly. She’d do two scavenger hunts: one to find each coffee place and the other to try every one. Maybe there was a big difference between them. There certainly was if she compared this one to the adorable cottage-like one she’d passed. This one lacked aesthetics, but hopefully the coffee would make up for it.

Pulling the door open, the smell of roasted beans tickled her senses. Quiet music that was typically reserved for elevators and driving people on hold batty played through the speakers. A few people sat in the booths that ran along the edges of the shop. It was small, with seating for maybe ten to twelve. A tall—even giant-sized—man with his blond hair wound into a bun on the very top of his head sent a lazy smile her way. His shoulders were linebacker massive, but he moved with grace as he poured coffee, pushed it toward an older woman.

The sound of shuffling along the linoleum came from the narrow hallway at the back of the store. Annie moved to the counter, aware of the people watching. The newcomer always drew attention.

“Welcome to Just Coffee. Small, medium, or large?” Man Bun asked.

She laughed, thinking he was joking. A glance at the menu made her smile slip. Really? They only serve coffee? That’s ridiculous. The sign over the counter listed three sizes and two options: decaf or regular. Her stomach complained. Scrunching her brows, she looked from left to right. Not a baked good in sight.

“Hi. Uh, I’ll get a large—two creams, one sugar, please. Is there anything to eat here?”

She knew a bistro in Portland that served the best chicken fingers ever but didn’t show it on their menu. Maybe this place was the same. Only the locals knew what could really be ordered. Well, she was about to be local. She wanted in on the secrets.

“No, ma’am,” the barista said. Was that title too fancy for what he did? Didn’t he have to steam milk or add syrups, maybe little foam letters to the drink?

She smiled, leaned in. “Oh, come on. You must have a stray muffin or something.” She’d been too wound up this morning, worried about forgetting something or having to go back. She’d missed breakfast and hadn’t even packed a snack. Definitely regretting that.

“Either you can’t read or you don’t understand the very simple words this man said. Get your coffee, and move on. Some of us have things to do.”

Shock widened Annie’s gaze as she turned to face the gruff-sounding voice that spoke behind her. A hunch-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair glared at her through unhappy eyes. His lips were tipped downward. Even his wrinkles were frowning. He wore a flannel shirt and a pair of baggy jeans. A couple of his buttons were askew.

He shook a travel mug in front of her. “I’m empty. I don’t have all day.”

Annie narrowed her gaze. “I was asking a simple question.”

“An unnecessary one. Waste of time. ‘Just coffee’ says it all. You want all those fancy add-ins or a buffet, head to one of the other places.” He shuffled around her, moving like he had a bad back. Holding his cup out, he shook it at the man behind the counter. “Come on. Top me up.”

Annie frowned. What a jerk. At least the barista gave her a nod and mouthed “Sorry.”

“That’s not a very nice way to welcome new people,” Annie muttered under her breath as she waited. Plus, he’d barged in front.

The man turned. If she had to guess, she’d say he meant to intimidate her with his glare. All it did was raise her hackles further.

“It’s not very nice to ask stupid questions when the answer is right in front of you.”

“That’s enough,” Man Bun said.

The few other patrons stared. Annie suddenly felt foolish for causing a commotion. She’d be known as the newcomer who caused a ruckus. Over coffee. Rooting in her purse, she pulled out a five-dollar bill, handing it to the guy.

He waved her money away. “It’s on the house.”

Before she could say thank you, the grumpy man turned back to the barista—she’d just go with that title. “Why does she get free coffee? I paid full price for mine. Want me to show a little leg?”

Annie’s mouth dropped open. What an annoying, ignorant—

“One more word, Gill, and you’re out.”

Annie picked up her coffee, gave Gill a satisfied smirk. Looking back at the barista, she smiled politely. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Least we can do for the greeting you got.”

Gill set the lid on his travel cup, looked back at the other man. “I heard that, Simon.”

Man Bun had a name. Simon rolled his eyes, sharing a smile with Annie. “I said it loud enough so unless you’re going deaf, you should have.”

Annie bit back her smile. She mouthed “Thanks” and hurried for the door. Now she was really craving baked goods. In her truck, she took her first sip and sighed. It would have sucked if a place known for only one thing wasn’t any good. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case, but Annie still wondered how the place stayed in business. Especially if there were nine other options. Maybe Gill hung out at this one frequently. That would be reason enough for her to head to any of the others.

Let it go. She set her drink in the cup holder and backed out of the parking spot. As she pulled out onto the road, she caught a glimpse of the miserable old man watching her go. This was a small town, but hopefully not so much that she’d be running into him again any time soon.

The gated community of Rainbow Falls Estates was charming with its eight nearly identical homes, each with a detached garage. The ocean sat just behind the U shape formed by the homes. A common house with landscaped shrubbery, greenspace, and a couple benches separated the lane that went in one direction only. Annie knew this because it was clearly marked with a handwritten sign that seemed out of place on the wrought iron gate.

Annie made her way past homes with arched peaks and adorable porches. Even her parents’ cottage, which sat in the corner of the U, had a dormer window despite having no second floor. It just sat on the roof like a space to watch the world go by.

She parked her truck in the driveway, noting the soft, almost rust color of her parents’ home. Each house was a beach-home shade, but she liked the uniqueness of theirs over the yellow, blue, or green.

Getting out of the vehicle, Annie felt a slight pang at the realization that she wouldn’t see her parents for a while. They’d keep in touch, but it wasn’t the same as getting pulled into one of her father’s hard hugs or having her mom run her hand down Annie’s oft-unruly brown hair.

Her dad had recently retired from his job as the dean of admissions for a nearby college. Her mom had gone down to part-time years ago, retiring from her job as a lab technician at the same time as her dad. With all of them having busy work schedules, plus the minimum few hours’ drive between one place and the other, she’d grown used to seeing them once a month or so. Now it would be at least a year.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat that came from missing them, grabbed her purse, duffel bag, and coffee. Taking the paved path toward the couple steps leading up to the porch, she opened the white screen door, punched the security code into the panel on the door handle.

After kicking the door shut behind her, she dropped her bags. The entryway was part of the large, high-ceilinged living room. Annie set her coffee on the side table by the door, going to the wall of windows that looked out on the front lawn. She pushed two upper ones open, letting in the fresh breeze to combat the stale air. Turning, she smiled, recognizing the familiar couches, the coffee table her father had made a few Christmases ago, and a large television mounted over a stone fireplace. They were all a welcoming way to mix the familiar with the new. Even without her parents here, it felt like home.

When they’d moved in, they’d given her a FaceTime tour, so she knew the archway to the left, off the living room, led to a hallway, two bedrooms, an office, laundry, and a bathroom.

To the right, another rounded arch led to the kitchen. Unlike so many homes today, these houses didn’t have an open concept. She headed for the kitchen—what her mother always called the heart of a home. Annie wasn’t much of a cook, but she loved to eat. Her DVR recordings were an eclectic mix of cooking, crime, and reality shows.

Light poured in from the many kitchen windows—one over the sink, French patio doors, and a picture window over the built-in eating nook—making the room feel large and homey.

Through the nook window, she watched an elderly man shuffle toward the other end of his kitchen. Her parents hadn’t said much about their neighbors.

“Small place like this, I’ll probably meet them all inside a week.”

Turning, she walked the few steps to the double doors, pushing them open. Salty, ocean air slapped her face, filling her with energy and happiness.

She might not have been a great cook, but she’d make use of the grill sitting out there. Beyond the deck rail, the water crested against the rocks soothing her soul. It was impossible to tame her smile. She breathed in as much salty air as her lungs would allow.

The yard was teeny-tiny, postage-stamp sized. It was edged by large—nearly waist high—ocean-smoothed stones, like a nature-made fence. Feeling adventurous already, she took the couple steps down from the porch to the perimeter of the yard. Between her house and the one to the right, there was a trail leading to a set of steps. As soon as she’d eaten and was settled, she’d make her way to the beach.

Waves continued to slap the rocks below her while gulls called out to each other. Her tummy rumbled again, reminding her she really needed some breakfast.

Though there was a perfectly good guest room, Annie took the master because it had the attached bath. One she planned to use tonight to soak and stare up at the stars through the skylight.

She turned in a circle, loving the fact that she was going to wake up to the ocean. A seagull hovered on the rock wall before landing to look around.

Giving a giddy laugh, she fell flat onto the king-sized bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is my house for the next year.” She’d enjoyed her condo with Vivian, but it’d always been her dream to own a house. The condo had its perks. It’d been perfect for that time in her life, but she wanted her own space, a home to call her own. One by the ocean was a whole other step up on the dream ladder.

She clapped her hands together. “Time to move in.”

She stopped long enough to make herself a peanut butter sandwich on toasted bread. Her mom had loaded up the freezer with several of Annie’s favorites, including baked goods, bread, bacon, and some individually packaged chicken. Annie took a pack out to thaw, thinking about using the grill later that night. She thought back to the drive through town, trying to remember if she’d seen a grocery store. Seeing as she’d only driven three roads to get through town, she’d probably missed it.

After polishing off her sandwich, she lugged in all of her belongings, which, truthfully, wasn’t much. Knowing she was coming to a fully furnished home, she’d brought her clothes, personal items, her laptop, and her favorite books along with a few other odds and ends. She’d sold the living room furniture she owned to Vivian and stored a few of her larger items like bookshelves and her four-poster bed.

By the time she had all the boxes in, she was ready for something cold to drink on the deck. Annie smiled when she opened the pantry to find her childhood favorite iced tea crystals. Rooting around to find a pitcher, she made the tea, added mountains of ice from the fridge’s handy ice maker and had just about settled into one of the porch’s two Adirondack chairs when the doorbell rang.

Not trusting the seagulls, she brought her tea back in with her, set it on the counter just as her phone rang. Everything or nothing, she thought with a smile. Vivian’s name popped up on her screen. She swiped to accept as she walked through the house.

“Hey.”

“Hi. You there?” Vivian’s voice was Sunday slept-until-noon sleepy.

“I am. It’s gorgeous. I’ll send you pictures. I just have someone at the door though, so can I call you back?”

“For sure. Glad you’re there. Miss you.”

Annie smiled. “Miss you, too. Talk to Danny about coming up in a few weeks. There’s a guest room.”

Vivian mumbled agreement and hung up. Annie pocketed her phone just as she reached the door. Looking through the shell-shaped peephole—cute—she didn’t see anyone. Weird. She pulled the door open.

With the porch being a step down and the tiny wisp of a woman being so short, it was no wonder Annie hadn’t seen her through the door. The curly white hair—even fashionably styled—indicated an older age, but this made her shadowed, smoky eyelids that much more dramatic. Annie envied the ease with which the woman pulled off a look Annie never could. Her typical makeup regime consisted of a washcloth, some soap, and a swipe of both mascara and lip gloss. This woman’s painted red lips, sparkly gaze, and wrinkles showing a lifetime of smiles and laughter could have made her the poster child for how to age well.

“Hello, dear. You must be Annie. You’re just as beautiful as your parents described you to be. Tall thing, aren’t you?” This was all said as the woman hustled her way indoors, a large covered basket in hand. “I’m Margie. I live three doors down to the left. I saw you pull in and wanted to welcome you. Gave you a bit of time, but you haven’t headed back out to the truck again so I decided you were finished. I’m head of our social committee.”

Annie grinned, amused and a little overwhelmed by the speed with which this woman spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you, Margie.”

“You, too, dear. I’ve brought you some muffins. They’re my personal favorite, double chocolate. I hope you’re not one of those city girls who’s into all sorts of weird additives like kale and celery root.”

Annie followed behind the woman, who clearly knew her way through the house. She scrunched her brows, wondering whether kale could be considered an additive and what the heck celery root was. Why even eat celery? Just have a glass of water, people.

“I love chocolate. That sounds delicious. Thank you.”

Margie put the basket on the table in the nook, opened it to reveal the most amazing-looking muffins, large with perfectly domed tops. She’d eaten, but there was no way she wasn’t attacking those treats.

Her mouth watered with just a glance. “Wow. Those look incredible.”

Margie moved to the cupboard, helped herself to a plate, then pulled a fork from the drawer. Her happy yellow sundress wafted around her tiny figure like the wind trailing after an unstoppable force. She set a muffin on the plate, handed it to Annie with the fork.

She nodded, gestured with her hand. “Go on, take a bite. Not one of those city girls who won’t eat, are you?”

Annie laughed, wondering which city girls this woman knew. “I’m not.”

She broke a piece off with her fork, slightly unnerved with the bossiness of her neighbor and being watched while she ate. But heck, for chocolate, she could be bossed around. When she took the first bite, Annie sighed in delight, closing her eyes to fully immerse herself in the flavor. When she opened them, Margie gave her a knowing grin.

“Can you bake?”

Annie’s brows furrowed. She wasn’t Betty Crocker, but she could follow a recipe if she had to. She shrugged, hoping that her full mouth would keep her from having to answer.

“It’s not hard. You’ll be fine.” Margie reached into the basket, pulled out a piece of paper, took it over to the fridge. “Here’s a schedule. You make six dozen of your choosing every six weeks. Only six of us take part because the others are sticks in the mud.”

The muffin turned dry in her mouth. Schedule? Six dozen what? Muffins? Had she ever made that many of anything? She’d never even bought that many.

Margie went on, pointing to whatever she’d put on Annie’s fridge. “We try to make it easy to keep track, so we arrange everything for Mondays. That’s when you deliver the muffins and pick up prescriptions. We’ll add you to the group text thread, and that way if anyone has library books they need returned or picked up, we know in advance. Now, not to throw it at you but your mom’s turn was next Monday. It’s easier to keep you on the same schedule. Can you handle that?”

Annie nearly choked on the last bite. She cleared her throat, going to her tea and taking a long swallow. “I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes watering as she looked at Margie. “But what?”

Margie smiled like she was talking to a young schoolgirl. “It sounds like a lot, but you’ll be fine. You’ll see how nice it is in the weeks these chores aren’t yours. It’s important we all work together. We’re a community. We watch out for each other.”

Annie set the plate down, trying to keep her tone polite. “Prescriptions?”

Margie nodded. “Yes, dear. Most of us are on anywhere from one to a dozen. Well, not all of us. You probably aren’t, unless you’re on birth control, but you don’t likely need to have that picked up more than once every few months.”

Annie was positive her cheeks flamed, but Margie acted as if she was just sharing the weather report.

“Raj is on several because of a back injury. Of course, Tate isn’t on any though I’d say he needs one now and again that adjusts his teenage attitude. Mostly, he’s a good kid though. His grandfather has several, what with the glaucoma and the acid reflux and the lung condition.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed. Who were these people, and why on earth was she getting a list of their ailments?

“I have no idea who or what you’re talking about,” she finally said.

Margie walked over, patted her arm and hooked her own through Annie’s. “I’m throwing a lot at you, aren’t I? That’s just because I’m eager to get to the senior’s center. Joseph and I have started a games afternoon there, and today is the first one. You look a bit tired today, but maybe you can join us another time.”

She pulled Annie along. It never occurred to Annie to dig in her heels.

“Your parents showed me a couple of your fancy designs in that magazine. You’re good.”

Annie’s gaze widened at the quick topic change and the whirlwind that was this woman. Magazine? Right. She’d done a freelance job for a popular home magazine, and it’d received some great praise. She hoped to work with the magazine or possibly other ones again the future. Not just for the way it padded her bank account, either.

“Thank you. I’m really proud of that layout.”

Margie opened the door, leading them both to the porch. Annie was feeling like she’d worked out too hard, but apparently, her neighbor was just warming up.

“Let me give you the rundown.” She then proceeded to point at each house, telling Annie who lived in it.

There was no way she’d remember all of this. Margie stopped when a shiny white convertible pulled down the lane, turning into the driveway next door.

“You can skip his house on the muffin drop. Old miser never takes part in anything. I swear, Scrooge was a kinder man in his dark days than Gill on a good one.”

Gill? Nooo. As if on cue, the unfriendly, hunched man from Just Coffee got out of the vehicle that seemed way too low for him. No wonder he had back trouble.

“He’s about as friendly as a starving lion, but pay him no mind.”

Gill slammed his door shut, looked their way. Margie waved as if she’d missed him terribly, only to have him send her a growly look. If he scrunched his brows any farther, they’d simply become one.

Great. She was on muffin duty which meant learning to bake, knew more about a bunch of strangers’ ailments than anyone should, and to top all that off, she was next-door neighbors with a jerk. Somehow, the chocolate muffin didn’t seem worth the trade-off.