The Good Luck Cafe

Book 0: Somerset Lake

by Annie Rains

Genres: Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction; Clean & Wholesome Romance

Synopsis

The Thursday night book club is back! USA Today bestselling author Annie Rains returns to Somerset Lake, North Carolina, with a heartwarming story that follows the book lovers as they band together to help Moira save her mother's cafe. 

Release date: March 14, 2023

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 352

Sample

Chapter One

The March sun beat against the top of Moira’s head as she stepped in front of Sweetie’s Bake Shop and pulled open the door. She breathed in the familiar aroma of coffee and pastries as she walked inside, and sighed happily. Home sweet home-away-from-home.

“Moira!” her mom called from behind the counter. Darla Green had bright red hair that she’d kept long since Moira was a little girl. The only hint that she and Moira were even related was the stamp of rust-colored freckles that both women had across the bridges of their noses and cheeks. “You’re running behind, aren’t you? I thought you might not be coming in this morning.”

Moira headed in her mother’s direction. “My shift starts in half an hour. I’m sorry to say I’m getting my coffee and bagel to go this morning.”

Darla frowned as she started preparing Moira’s breakfast. Moira didn’t come in every morning, but two or three times a week she found herself here to see her mom and satisfy her cravings. Call her superstitious, but the fact that it sat catty-corner on Good Luck Avenue always made her feel like there was something lucky in dropping by. Maybe there weren’t the leprechauns of her childhood imagination, but she was fortunate to have a place to come where she could visit with friends and family and get her daily dose of caffeine all in one.

Moira glanced around the room as she waited, spotting several locals in their regular spots, including Reva Dawson, who had her laptop front and center. Reva was undoubtedly working on her latest blog post. Moira did her best to avoid being fodder for Reva’s town blog. Moira kept a quiet life out of the spotlight. As a 911 dispatcher, she worked behind the scenes of the goings-on in town. She knew every bit as much as Reva, probably more, but she didn’t feel the need to gossip like the infamous town blogger did.

Beyond Reva, Moira spotted her best friend Tess sitting at a table on her own. Tess had her phone in front of her and was swiping a quick finger up the screen, a telltale sign that she was looking at TikTok or, in Tess’s case, more likely BookTok. Tess owned the local bookstore a few doors down the street and ran the weekly book club that Moira attended.

“Here you go, sweetie.” Darla slid a cup of coffee and a bagel wrapped in wax paper toward Moira.

“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Darla flicked her gaze at Tess. “You going over to say hello?”

Moira nodded as she collected her breakfast items. “A very quick one. Being late for the dispatch is, in actuality, a life-and-death thing. Or it could be.” Maybe, if Moira didn’t live in Somerset Lake, where the biggest day-to-day emergency was a lack of parking on Hannigan Street.

Darla tsked as a smile spread through her rosy cheeks. “You always have been a dramatic one, haven’t you?”

“I’m not being dramatic right now. A lot could go wrong if no one’s there to answer the call for help.” This wasn’t exactly true. There was always one other dispatcher on shift. Since Somerset Lake was a small town, that was all that was needed. Moira was proud to be one of the few. She loved her job and knowing that she was quite possibly saving people’s lives. Or, more often, kittens that were stuck in trees and couldn’t figure out how to make their way down. But she liked saving them too.

Moira waved at Tess and walked over to where she was sitting. Tess looked up from her phone as Moira paused at the head of her table.

“Hey, you. I was hoping you’d come in today. Have a seat?” Tess asked. Today, her black hair was pulled back in a low ponytail with a few loose curls framing her face.

“I wish I could, but I have a shift in twenty-five minutes,” Moira said. “I need to get home.”

Tess visibly wilted. “Boo-hiss. I’m so jealous that you get to work from home.”

Moira offered back an eye roll. “Oh, please. You own your own business. It might as well be home for you.”

“True.” Tess grinned. “Tomorrow then?”

Moira nodded. “Sure. I’ll come in a little earlier so we can have breakfast. Sound good?”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Tess checked the time on her phone’s screen and heaved a sigh. “I need to get to the bookstore anyway. Lara doesn’t mind opening for me, but I don’t want to take advantage of her. She’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a while. I don’t want to run her off.” Tess stood and pulled the strap of her purse onto her shoulder.

“Don’t you mean River Harrison is the best thing that’s happened to you?” Moira teased. River was Tess’s fiancé, and Moira was sure she’d never seen her friend so happy. The fact that her best friend had found love—for a second time—did Moira’s heart good. Those who wanted a life partner should have one. Moira, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in sharing her home, her bed, or her life with anyone. Maybe it was because she had grown up as an only child. It hadn’t made her spoiled, but it had definitely molded her into a fiercely independent woman who didn’t mind being alone.

“You’re right. River is the best thing, and Lara is a close second.” Tess laughed as she collected her trash to discard on her way out. Then she and Moira waved at Darla before pushing through the exit doors. “So tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here. See you then.” Moira started walking. The parking on Hannigan Street was scarce, which meant she’d parked the length of a football field away. Maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but she was glad she’d chosen sneakers when she’d left the house this morning.

Moira started hurrying toward her vehicle when her cell phone pinged from the front pocket of her purse. She fumbled with her coffee and bagel, shifting them to one hand so she could free up the other and dig inside her purse. When she pulled out her phone, there was a text waiting for her.

Dad: Did you see your mom this morning? How was she?

Moira frowned at her dad’s message. Her dad didn’t usually check up on Darla. He’d retired last year though. He seemed to be loving his newfound freedom, but Moira thought her mom seemed to be struggling with the fact that he was discovering new hobbies while she was working long hours—although it was doing what she loved.

Hugging her coffee to her side with the bagel resting on top, Moira used her opposite hand to tap out a return text with her thumb.

Moira: I just left Sweetie’s. Mom seemed fine to me.

Moira didn’t have time to wait for her dad’s reply. She picked up her pace, still holding on to her phone and breakfast. The aroma of the Asiago from the bagel wafted up to her nose, making her belly grumble. Then a gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes and mouth.

Ugh. She didn’t have a free hand to swipe it away, so she blinked through the curtain of dark hair, spotting her car up ahead.

“In a hurry?” someone asked.

The unexpected voice startled her. She whirled to find its source, her subconscious already matching the deep voice to a name before she looked into the man’s bright blue eyes. The sudden movement made her bagel tumble off the top of her coffee cup, where it was balanced. Moira tried to snatch it out of the air before it hit the pavement, which made her coffee slip from her grasp.

Gil Ryan attempted to catch the bagel and drink as well. He lunged toward Moira and stretched out his hand, bumping his forehead into hers.

“Ow!” She straightened and pressed a hand to her forehead, her eyes open to see the rest of the ordeal pass in slow motion.

Gil caught the bagel—success!—but the coffee hit the pavement and exploded like a water balloon, dousing both of their shoes.

Not my new Converse sneakers! Coffee stains will be the death of them.

Gil straightened, holding the bagel with one hand and his forehead with the other, his gaze trained on her. “At least your breakfast was salvaged.”

Moira hesitated before taking it, feeling awkward. She’d always felt this way with Gil, knowing he had a crush on her that she didn’t reciprocate. “I wouldn’t have dropped any of my breakfast in the first place if you hadn’t startled me,” she snapped. The awkwardness frequently made her come off as defensive and maybe a little cold. She knew this about herself. “Of course I’m in a hurry. That’s why I was walking so fast. Reason would tell you not to call out to a person who looks like they’re on a mission, unless you have something important to tell them.”

It was like she couldn’t control her mouth when Gil was around.

“I’m sorry. Why don’t you let me buy you another coffee?”

Gil was pretty much a saint. Everyone thought so. She’d never known him to do anything wrong, unless he could be found guilty by association with his former roommate, whom Moira wished she’d never met. A person couldn’t rewind time though. If they could, she’d dodge the handsome town mayor and have her coffee back this morning.

“I have to get home for work at nine. In fact, thanks to you, I’m running late.” She turned and started walking toward her car without a proper goodbye, which made her feel like a jerk. She immediately regretted the whole interaction with Gil, but if she turned around now, she’d be late to dispatch. So she kept walking.

*  *  *

Gil stepped inside Sweetie’s Bakeshop and headed toward Darla behind the counter.

“Hey, Mayor Gil,” she said with a broad smile. Unlike her daughter, Darla was always happy to see him.

“Morning, Darla. Can I get a hot coffee with a squirt of chocolate syrup?” he asked.

“Only you.” She laughed, reaching for an empty cup off to her side. Then she prepared his drink as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “I had a little run-in with Moira before walking in.”

Darla glanced over her shoulder as she poured from the pot on the back counter. “Oh? She was just in here.”

“Yeah. We bumped into each other. I kind of spilled her coffee. Or she spilled it, but she firmly blamed me.”

Darla chuckled. “Well, you know Moira,” she said, as if that explained her daughter’s attitude.

He did know Moira. She was as nice as her mother, to everyone except him. Somehow he’d found himself on her bad side, and that’s where he stayed no matter how hard he tried to win her over. And he did try.

Gil was a people pleaser, and he knew it. It bothered him when a person didn’t like him, especially someone whom he’d grown up with. And admittedly he’d had a crush on Moira Green since kindergarten when she’d sported long, black pigtail braids with green ribbons tied at the bottoms. While the other girls declared pink as their favorite color, Moira had always chosen green. While those pink girls had played hopscotch and dolls, Moira had dominated the swings and monkey bars.

Moira didn’t do what was expected, especially back when she and Gil were growing up. She was an outlier, which some might call a negative. Not him though. Moira had caught his eye when they were only kids. “You know what, Darla?”

Darla slid his coffee across the counter toward him and raised a questioning brow. “What’s that, Mayor?”

“Can you make me whatever kind of coffee Moira had this morning? She didn’t have time to come back in and get another. It’d be a shame for her to work her shift without caffeine.”

Darla’s green eyes narrowed. “You’re going to drop it off at her house?”

Gil nodded, warming up to the idea. Maybe he’d finally win Moira over this morning. She didn’t have to reciprocate his attraction, but getting off her bad side would be nice. And he kind of was to blame for causing her to dump her coffee. He’d called out to her, seeing that she was obviously in a hurry. What was he thinking?

“I don’t know, Mayor Gil. My daughter doesn’t like unannounced visitors.”

He could guess as much. Moira wasn’t an introvert, but she was a private person. “I won’t stay. I won’t even go inside. I know she’s working. I just want to bring her a replacement coffee. She can’t fault me for that, can she?”

Darla looked skeptical. After a long pause, she grabbed a cup and set about making another coffee for Moira. A minute later, she slid it toward him. “That’ll be four dollars and seventy-six cents.”

Gil zipped his card through the reader, tapped in his PIN, and collected the two coffees. “Wish me luck.”

Darla shook her head on a soft chuckle. “Good luck, Mayor Gil. I think you’re going to need it.”

Chapter Two

Gil was uncharacteristically nervous as he stood in front of Moira’s front door. He was typically a laid-back kind of guy, which was good given his profession. Being the mayor wasn’t easy. Yeah, Somerset Lake was a small town, and the folks here were agreeable for the most part. But one truth he’d discovered in life was that you couldn’t make everyone happy all the time, and that fact kept Gil up more nights than not.

Gil shifted Moira’s coffee to his left hand and rang the doorbell. Then, seeing the little note that read Doorbell Broken, he finally knocked. From inside Moira’s home, he heard movement. She lived in a tiny one-story house in Wimberly Cove, a small neighborhood featuring one- and two-bedroom homes that catered to singles.

The door opened, and Moira crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?” she asked by way of greeting. She had on a headset, reminding Gil that she was on shift right now.

“Uh, hi.” Gil held out Moira’s drink, hoping she wouldn’t knock it straight from his hand. “I know you’re working dispatch. I just thought you could use that coffee I made you drop earlier. As the mayor, I want to make sure the ones keeping us safe are wide awake.”

She looked at the cup, not budging to take it. “That’s for me?”

“It is. Your mom made it just the way you ordered yours this morning. I may have driven a little bit over the speed limit to make sure I got it to you while it was still hot.” He offered a smile, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt as he continued to extend the coffee to her. “Please, take it. I can’t stand to waste anything. If you refuse this coffee, I’ll be forced to drink it along with the one I have waiting for me in my truck. That’ll leave me tightly wound for the day. I might have to call nine-one-one on myself.”

Moira finally relaxed her guarded stance, extending a hand to take the coffee. Her gaze hesitantly met his. “Thank you. That was nice of you.”

“You’re welcome.” He stood there a moment, finding it difficult to actually leave. They used to be friends—the kind that could laugh at everything and nothing at all. Then things changed between them. Gil never should have introduced Moira to his college roommate. He shouldn’t have brought Felix Wilkes to Somerset Lake at all. Hindsight was twenty-twenty though. Foresight was twenty-seventy on a good day.

Finally, Gil backed away and stepped off her porch. “See you later, Moira.” He turned and walked back in the direction of his truck in the driveway.

“Gil?”

He turned eagerly toward Moira’s voice. “Yeah?”

Her expression was sheepish and hesitant. Even though she’d called out to him, she seemed to be at a loss for words. “How did my mom look to you? When you saw her this morning?”

Gil knitted his brows. “What do you mean?”

Moira shrugged. “I didn’t notice anything different, but my dad seems to think she’s not acting herself.”

Gil thought back on his interaction with Darla twenty minutes earlier. “She seemed fine. The same old Darla. Did your dad mention how she’s acting differently?”

Moira shook her head, her dark hair scraping along her shoulders. “No. I’m sure it’s nothing. Thanks again for the coffee.”

“Anytime.”

She stepped back and closed the door, leaving Gil standing there, feeling a bit foolish and off-balance. Wasn’t that how Moira always made him feel?

He continued toward his truck and got inside. Then he took a sip of his coffee before setting it in the cup holder and cranking his engine. Onward. He had things to do today, namely meeting with the town council about funding for a new parking lot on Hannigan Street. The next election for town mayor was this fall, and he wanted to promise his voters that he’d do whatever it took to ease the congestion on the main downtown stretch. But first he had to get the budget approved and find the perfect location, which was easier said than done.

*  *  *

The refrigerator was humming like one of those annoying flies that just wouldn’t go away. Normally, Moira could block out background noise, but today she was on edge, probably from her run-in with Gil. He always left her feeling a bit discombobulated. Or he had since their early twenties and that night that should never be discussed. It wasn’t Gil’s fault that she’d gone on a date with his roommate, Felix. It was Gil’s fault, however, that she’d gotten herself arrested the very next night. Gil had called law enforcement on her. That whole horrible weekend was one she’d rather just forget, and every time she saw Gil, she was reminded.

Moira blew out a breath and stared at her computer screen, blinking past the sting in her eyes, a hazard of too much screen time. Dispatch was dead. Not that Moira would ever wish an emergency on anyone, but no one had even called to report a deer munching on their greenery. Or a bird that had flown into their garage and was squawking angrily at anyone that entered. That was yesterday’s call, and it was the most exciting thing that had happened on the dispatch all week.

Moira closed her eyes for a moment, becoming increasingly aware of the refrigerator’s hum. She tried to block it out by following her stream of thoughts, which led her back to thinking about the mayor of Somerset Lake.

Great.

Her alert buzzed, announcing an incoming call on the dispatch. Adrenaline shot through her veins the way it always did.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” she answered.

“Yes, hi. There’s been an accident on Hannigan Street. It’s three cars,” the caller said breathlessly. “There’s a child in the middle car, and I can hear him crying loudly. Oh, poor thing. I hope he’s okay.”

Moira typed the details as fast as she could while simultaneously alerting the local sheriff’s department and paramedics. “Crying is good. That means he’s breathing easily. Have the other drivers or passengers gotten out of their vehicles yet?” Moira asked, typing quickly into the system.

“Just me,” the caller said. “I’m in the third car. I’m fine. I’m just…” The person hesitated.

“Ma’am? Are you still there?” Moira asked.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I can hear sirens now. That was so fast.”

The sheriff’s department was right down from Hannigan Street. “Ma’am, are you hurt?”

“Well, um, my forehead seems to be bleeding. I just feel a little woozy, that’s all. The child inside the other car is still upset. Should I go get them?”

“No, stay where you are, ma’am. You need to sit down. Do you see an ambulance yet?”

“Not yet,” the woman said. “I don’t know how it’ll get through to us though. This road is so narrow, and there are cars parked all along the sides.”

Lunchtime on Hannigan Street was like that, mostly because of Sweetie’s and Choco-Lovers, which served up everything chocolate. Folks wanted to eat, and there was nowhere to park. “Are any of the vehicles smoking?” Moira asked, worried that one might catch fire. That had happened a few years back, and the driver had barely escaped.

“No, I don’t think so.” The caller’s words slurred as they stopped and started. Moira thought maybe the woman had hit her head harder than she’d realized. “Oh, there’s an ambulance. And a fire truck too. I see their lights down the street,” she said.

“Good. Stay on the line with me until someone attends to you.”

“Okay.”

Moira waited with the caller for what seemed like forever. She was sure the other dispatcher on shift right now was probably talking to another of the accident victims or a nearby onlooker. Finally, one of the paramedics on the scene stepped over to check on Moira’s caller.

When Moira finally disconnected, she felt jittery. She always ended her calls before she knew that everyone would be okay. She had no idea what had happened to the child or the caller or anyone else involved in the pileup. Sometimes Moira got the rest of the story through word of mouth or via Reva’s town blog, but at other times, she was left to wonder if the person on the other line was okay.

Getting up, Moira stretched and went to pour herself a glass of water. She drank it while standing over the sink. Then she turned as the alarm on her dispatch went off a second time. Again? For a dead day, two back-to-back calls was unusual. Perhaps someone else was calling about the same accident.

Moira tapped a button on her wireless headset, connecting the call. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello? Are you there?” a man’s voice asked.

“I’m here. Do you have an emergency, sir?” Moira asked.

“Yes. I…” He groaned painfully into the phone’s receiver.

Moira waited, worry growing. “Sir, are you there?” she asked after a few seconds went by. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, my name is Doug Ryan. I live at 213 Lakeside Drive, but I’m at my brother’s house right now.”

Moira knew this caller, which wasn’t so unusual. She knew most of the callers who dialed in. She usually tried not to let callers know she knew them though, in case it made them self-conscious or worried about privacy. In this case, she thought letting Doug know who she was would help establish trust. “Doug, this is Moira Green. What’s going on? Are you all right?”

“Moira? Gil’s friend?” Doug asked, sounding confused.

“I’m a dispatcher. Do you need me to send help?” she asked. Doug had Down syndrome. He had graduated from high school a couple of years ago and lived with his parents on the lake.

“Yes. My parents are running errands. And Gil’s at a meeting. I’m at his house.”

Moira knew Gil lived on the lake right next door to his parents. The house had belonged to Gil’s grandmother when she was alive. It was about a five-minute drive from Moira’s neighborhood.

“And what’s going on with you?” she asked. So far, Doug was talking just fine, which meant he was breathing normally. She didn’t know if he was badly injured though.

“I was feeling dizzy, and Goldie knocked me down.”

Goldie was Gil’s golden retriever. He’d had the dog for years, and she’d seen him walking it in a nearby park on several occasions. “Can you get up?” she asked.

“No, I hurt my foot when I fell. I’m still feeling dizzy too,” he said, sounding increasingly distressed. His words were coming out slower, and he was slurring.

Moira started typing into her computer, sending details to local emergency crews. “When you fell, did you hear a snap or a pop in your ankle?”

“I don’t remember. It happened so fast...Uh-oh. My foot is swelling and turning purple.” Doug took several audible breaths.

“It’s okay, Doug, I’ve notified authorities. Try to stay calm, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Moira stared at her computer screen while she waited impatiently for emergency personnel to acknowledge the call. What is taking them so long? “Are you doing all right?” she asked Doug after a minute.

“I think so. I’m feeling kind of hot though. I think I need my medicine.”

Moira sat up straighter. She didn’t know Doug’s full medical history. “What medication are you on, Doug?” she asked, gaze trained on her computer screen. It had now been over five minutes. Usually someone had responded to her alert by now.

“I take it when I feel sick like this.” Doug’s words tumbled over each other.

“Doug, can you tell me exactly where in Gil’s house that you are?” Moira asked, trying to keep Doug talking so she could better assess his condition. The last thing she wanted was for him to lose consciousness.

“Yes, I’m in the kitchen. On the floor.”

She impatiently tapped her fingers against her desk. She usually got an alert when ambulances, fire trucks, or sheriff’s cars were deployed to the scene. Then she stayed on the line with the caller until emergency crews arrived. No one was responding right now though. Were th. . .