Cafe Au Lait Read online

  Café Au Lait

  A Zion Sawyer Cozy Mystery

  Volume 2

  ML Hamilton

  www.authormlhamilton.net

  Café Au Lait

  © 2017 ML Hamilton, Sacramento, CA

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  First print

  All Characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  January of 2017 marks seven years since I began this experiment as an author. It began with a New Year’s resolution and 31 books later, I am still in love with it. None of this would be possible without my readers and my family, both of whom keep me focused, keep me living the dream. Thank you!

  “I wake up some mornings and sit and have my coffee and look out at my beautiful garden, and I go, ‘Remember how good this is.

  Because you can lose it.’ ”

  ~ Jim Carrey

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  Zion stared into the mirror over the sink in her bathroom. Once upon a time, she’d had her hair straightened every four weeks, burnished with an auburn wash, slathered on hair oils and leave-in conditioners to keep it from going rogue (as her best friend Becks would say), but now she didn’t care.

  She didn’t have a permanent monthly hair appointment; she didn’t even have a stylist. She got her hair trimmed when it got in the way, braided it in a French braid when she worked, and otherwise didn’t worry about it. Today, she tied the end with a floral scrunchy and walked into the bedroom to slide on a pair of pale pink capris and a hot pink t-shirt that said Caffeinator on it.

  The Caffeinator was the name of the coffee house her biological mother, Vivian Bradley, had left her. Once Zion had taken over, she’d decided the employees needed a uniform. Since Vivian had trended toward pink for everything in the store, Zion felt it was a tribute to her to stay in that theme, but she’d limited it to a t-shirt. No sense going all crazy about it.

  Staring at Vivian’s picture on her dresser, Zion realized she was starting to look a lot more like her. Once she’d let her hair go to its natural red/orange color and allowed the curls to return, and once she’d stopped wearing so much foundation to hide her freckles, Zion actually felt more comfortable in her own skin. In San Francisco, she’d been so caught up in the latest fashion trends, wearing tight skirts and blouses that were not made for a woman with curves.

  Sinking down on the bed and slipping her feet into her socks and sneakers, she couldn’t deny she didn’t miss six inch heels and punishing pointed toes. She felt free and relaxed and she wasn’t worried how she was going to pay the rent on a studio in the Sunset that took up two thirds of her paycheck.

  She looked at the other pictures on her dresser. Her adoptive mother and father – the two people she really thought of as her parents – Gabrielle and Joseph Sawyer had taken her in as an infant and raised her as their own. She adored them. Her father, Joe, still worked as a hospital administrator, but her mother, Gabi, was a retired nurse. They lived in San Bruno and while Joe worked, Gabi was reinventing herself. She’d tried a number of hobbies – canning and macramé and reupholstering – but piano was the one she’d stuck with for the longest. Until recently.

  Joe had told Zion that Gabi had decided piano was too archaic and sedentary. She was into yoga now, which meant a whole new diet, a new wardrobe, and a new way of thinking. Zion had called her mother just to see how deep into this pastime she’d gotten, but at the first Namaste, she’d known Gabi was fully committed.

  Zion smiled now. She missed them both and not being able to see them regularly was the one negative to this whole life change. Well, that and her best friend, Rebekah Miles. She missed morning coffee breaks with Becks or discussing what hotspot they were going to for lunch, or who they were dating, although in the last few months she’d been in the City, Zion’s social life hadn’t been any too exciting.

  What she didn’t miss was her job as an administrative assistant in an insurance company. Answering phones, taking member complaints had about drained her soul. She’d hated it and after three years with no chance for advancement, she’d decided it was time to make a change.

  Vivian’s death and the fact she left everything to Zion had given Zion a way out. She hated that Vivian had died so needlessly, but she felt grateful for the fact that Vivian had thought of her, had entrusted her to build the dream she’d started here in Sequoia.

  In addition to the cottage, she’d left Zion the coffee shop, both free and clear of a mortgage. Zion had decided to stay on for a trial period. She’d told herself to give it three months. Well, it had been two now – it was the middle of July – and Zion didn’t think her plans were going to change in another month. She liked Sequoia. She liked the people who lived here. And she liked owning a coffee shop. She didn’t plan to go home, although Becks kept thinking she would when she got over her Betty Homemaker virus.

  Rising to her feet, she walked over to the cat bed in the corner of the room where her kitten Cleo was stretched out on her back, her paws flexing in her sleep. Zion smiled at her. She loved the little black ball of fluff. She’d been only six weeks old when Zion had found her on the back porch of the cottage. She and Gabi had fed her with a bottle for a few weeks until she could eat on her own. Cleo still seemed small to Zion, but the vet assured her she was growing normally now. Zion didn’t know. She’d only had dogs growing up and her experience with cats was limited.

  Bending down, she scratched Cleo’s belly. The kitten made a noise, stretched all four legs as far as they would go, and rolled over. “Breakfast,” Zion told her and Cleo rose, immediately climbing out of the cat bed and following Zion into the hallway.

  After giving Cleo a dollop of wet food next to her dry kibble and cleaning and refilling her water bowl, she made herself a piece of toast with butter, downed it with a cup of hot tea from her Keurig maker, and snatched up her keys and purse, headed for the door.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” she called to the kitten, then she was out in the cool morning air, walking to her car in the driveway. The sun was just peeking over the redwoods, but the air had a stillness about it that Zion was beginning to recognize. Sequoia never got unbearably hot like she heard the valley could get, but it had definitely made it into the 90’s some days this month.

  She liked the drive into Main Street. As she drove past Tate Mercer’s house in the middle of the road, she glanced at his windows out of habit. The curtains were still drawn and his pickup was in the driveway, so he hadn’t left for his hardware store. She liked Tate a lot.

  An ex-cop, he had a quiet, calmness about him that she respected, but she also knew something bad had happened to him in a previous life. He’d quit the force, moved away from LA and a marriage, choosing to lead a much more sedate lifestyle here. He was dependable and steady, but she sensed a darkness lurking inside of him that scared her a little. He played things close to the vest and didn’t give more of himsel
f away than was absolutely necessary.

  Unlike David Bennett, her current…well, beau, maybe? They’d been on a number of dates. David was the lawyer who’d helped her figure out Vivian’s estate. He was tall, dark haired, handsome, and very smart. He was also funny and sweet and honorable. He wouldn’t agree to going on a date with her until Vivian’s affairs were completely taken care of to his satisfaction. She respected that about him and she wasn’t opposed to taking things slowly. She didn’t have the best track record when it came to love, so going slower might just be the ticket, she decided.

  Thinking about David set up a pleasant distraction until she arrived in town and drove down Main Street to the municipal parking lot, pulling into her regular space. She’d noted the lights were on in the Caffeinator and Dottie Madison, her morning barista was already in place, helping customers. Climbing out of the car, Zion snatched her apron off the backseat and tied it around her.

  Another car pulled in next to her and a middle aged woman with platinum blond hair got out. She wore a lot of makeup and her nails were long and painted with flags on them. She smiled at Zion.

  “Good morning,” she called, waving.

  Zion grabbed her purse, shut the car door, and pressed the lock, then walked over to her. “Good morning, Trixie.”

  Trixie Taylor owned Trinkets by Trixie, a souvenir shop three doors down from the Caffeinator. She’d been a dental receptionist until her two kids left for college, then Trixie and her husband Joe had decided to open up the store.

  “How are you this morning, Zion?”

  “Good. And yourself.” They started walking down the street to their shops.

  “I tell you with that rock show opening up tonight, I’m about as busy as they get. Everyone wants a t-shirt or a refrigerator magnet that says Sequoia on it.”

  Zion laughed, fussing with the strings on her apron. “Yeah, it’s been busy in the Caffeinator too.”

  “I’m not complaining. I mean money’s money, but have you ever seen so many piercings or tattoos in any one spot before?”

  “They’re giving Deimos a run for his money, that’s for sure.” Deimos was Zion’s afternoon barista, a young man in his late twenties who tended toward alternate living.

  “When they floated the idea of Redwood Stock, I wasn’t too sure, but it’s done what they said. It’s brought us a lot more business. Still, we usually have families renting cabins during the summer. It’s a lot quieter. I heard Sheriff Wilson had to break up six fights last night alone, and there were a couple of drug overdoses out at the county fairgrounds where they’re holding the festival.”

  Zion sighed. “That’s too bad. I hate to hear that.”

  They paused in front of Trixie’s door.

  “Well, I guess you can’t have everything,” Trixie said, then she touched Zion’s arm. “How’d your mama like the glass hummingbird?”

  Zion smiled. “She loved it.”

  “I’ll have some new stuff right around September. You come in then and get your Christmas shopping done early.”

  “I will.”

  Trixie unlocked her shop door and stepped inside. Zion continued down the street, waving to Carmen through the windows of the Knitatorium, and then she pushed open the door of the Caffeinator. The bell above the door tinkled. Immediately, she was swamped with delicious smells – cinnamon, coffee, brown sugar. She loved this moment in the morning when she stepped inside and Dottie was filling the glass cases with sugary goodness.

  A few customers sat at the wrought iron tables and a couple with two pre-teen kids were gathered in the lounging area. Dottie came through the swinging doors of the kitchen, carrying a tray of donuts, her face bursting into a smile.

  “Hey, sweet girl, am I glad to see you.”

  Zion moved around the counter, pulling her purse off her shoulder. “Has it been busy?”

  “A little bit,” said Dottie. Dottie Madison was nearly as round as she was tall with a head of puffy curls which this month were dyed a brilliant red in honor of the 4th of July. She wore glasses, but they mostly hung off a beaded chain affixed around her neck. She had to be in her late fifties or early sixties, or so Zion guessed, but she had more energy than Zion had ever had in her lifetime.

  Dottie did most of the baking and liked to come in much earlier than anyone else. She liked working the counter when fewer people were around so she could get her recipes made without fuss. She’d been teaching Zion to bake for the last two months and Zion found she actually had an affinity for it.

  “What needs doing?” Zion called over her shoulder as she went through the swinging bar doors into the back where the kitchen and her office were located. She stashed her purse in her desk and came back out.

  “Take the orders while I get these drinks made,” said Dottie, pointing at the small line that was building in the center of the store.

  Zion gratefully did as she was asked. The idea of boss and employee had been a loose concept from the beginning. Not that Dottie, Deimos and Tallah, her part-time teenage help, didn’t treat her with respect, but Zion clearly was new at owning a business and they were the experts. Besides that, Zion had never considered herself boss material anyway. She’d much rather they all worked as a team, had each other’s backs, and truth be told, that damn espresso machine had never liked her to begin with, so she had no problem deferring to those with more skill.

  As she took orders and helped Dottie distribute drinks, she couldn’t believe how happy she was, so far from the hustle and bustle of everything she’d known in the City.

  * * *

  At noon, Deimos and Tallah arrived. Tallah, a high school junior now, was the daughter of Zion’s new friend, Cheryl Ford who ran the Bourbon Brothers Barbecue two doors down. Tallah had applied for the part-time barista position in May, wanting to get away from the family business. Her father Dwayne wasn’t happy about it, but Cheryl pretty much got her way in that family and she didn’t see any harm in the straight-A student going to work for someone else.

  Zion was grateful to hear her two employees enter the coffee shop now. Tallah could work the espresso machine almost as well as Deimos and Dottie already had her purse slung over her shoulder, ready to hightail it out of there. The traffic had been steady all day and Zion had barely had time to take a bathroom break. The Redwood Stock festival had certainly brought a lot of colorful, interesting people to Sequoia, and they all wanted coffee to keep themselves awake for the opening act tonight.

  Deimos burst through the bar doors of the kitchen as Zion was just removing a tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. “Heya, boss lady,” he said.

  Deimos was tall and lanky, had shaggy blond hair, and wide blue eyes that looked at the world with wonder and delight. Deimos and Dottie had been the only reason Zion had even considered keeping the coffee shop. Between the two of them, they understood the business completely and they were dedicated and dependable.

  “Hey, Dee, am I glad to see you.”

  He’d grabbed an apron from under the counter and began tying it around his waist. “Were you slammed all day?”

  “Yep. Haven’t even had a chance to visit the facilities,” she said.

  Deimos finished tying his apron and grabbed a pot holder. “Well, give me that and go.”

  “Thank you!” said Zion, relinquishing the cookie sheet to him.

  Tallah entered the kitchen a moment later. “Where do you want me to start, Zion?”

  “Can you put a new batch of cookie dough on that clean cookie sheet and pop it in the oven?”

  “On it,” said Tallah, going to the sink to wash her hands.

  Dottie poked her head through the doors. “You want me to stay? It’s still slammed out here.”

  “No, go home,” said Zion, easing past her and laying a hand on her shoulder. “You haven’t had a break either. Dee and Tallah are here now.”

  “Heya, Dottie girl,” called Deimos, following Zion back into the coffee shop.

  Dottie planted herself fi
rmly in front of Deimos, wagging a finger in his face. “You be careful at that festival tonight. You hear me?”

  “I’m always careful,” he said, heading for the display case and bending to put the cookies onto the tray inside. “Don’t worry about me, dude.”

  “I always worry about you, dude,” said Dottie, swatting his rear end with her purse where it jutted out of the display case. “No Mary Jane!”

  Zion watched them as she eased around the end of the counter and headed for the bathroom.

  “Mary Jane? Seriously, Dottie, we broke up a long time ago,” she heard him say as she pushed open the door.

  “Mmhm, keep telling yourself that, Dee, but you still watch out!”

  Zion took care of business and straightened her braid, then washed her hands and returned to the restaurant. By the time she got back, Deimos and Tallah had cleared all the customers and were both rushing around preparing drinks. Zion couldn’t deny she was pleased with their proficiency.

  Grabbing her phone from under the counter, she looked at the time. Past noon. Her stomach rumbled as if it knew the time as well. “I’m gonna just go get lunch, if you guys have this under control.”

  Deimos held up a hand, since the noise from the espresso machine made talking difficult and Tallah gave her an encouraging nod. Detouring into her office, Zion grabbed her purse out of the desk, noticing that David had called her.

  She dialed him back as she crossed the coffee house again, headed for the front door. He answered right away.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, David, I missed your call.”

  “Hi, Zion, yeah, I called about an hour ago. I thought you might be on your lunch break.”

  “What’s up?” She got a little flush of pleasure thinking about him.

  “I just wanted to confirm that we’re on for dinner tonight.”

  “Definitely. Where are we going?”

  “I think Corkers, if that’s okay with you. It’s the opposite direction from the festival.”