I quickly shake the thought away and look at the old wooden beams overhead. A long potting table sits against one wall, covered in seed packets, gardening books, and a fancy coffeemaker. A worn leather sofa sits in the corner next to a small wood stove with a stack of catalogs on the cushion beside it.
“Sorry about the mess,” Birdy says, already moving toward the coffee maker. “It’s a private working space, not a showroom.”
“I like it,” I say.
“How do you take it?”
Any way you let me.
“Black,” I say.
“Easy enough.”
She reaches up for the coffee on the shelf above, but it’s slightly too high. She goes up on her toes, but I take one step forward and pull it down before she can reach it.
“Thanks, Jude.”
I hand her the coffee, and she pours the fresh beans into the coffeemaker. The grinding noise is loud, which is a relief because I don’t want Birdy to hear that my breathing has picked up. Just being near her makes my body react in unpredictable ways.
Once the coffee is ready, she pours us both a mug. When she hands me mine, our fingers overlap for a split second. We both let go slightly too fast, even though I don’t really want to let her go.
She wraps both hands around her own mug and nods toward the door. “There’s a bench by the flower field. Unless you’d rather stay in here?”
“Outside sounds great,” I say.
We head to the flower field and sit down on the bench. Before us are rows and rows of gorgeous tulips. Although nothing out here looks as good as Birdy.
I drink my coffee and say nothing. She drinks hers and says nothing. A bird makes noise somewhere in the tree line, the wind moves through the tulips, and that’s the whole world for a minute.
“Can I ask you something?” she says eventually.
“Sure.”
“Do you ever get lonely up there? On the mountain?”
“No.”
“I’d like that. Knowing exactly what you want and just having it.”
I look at her. “You don’t know what you want?”
She shakes her head. “I’m twenty-eight, and I still work a seasonal job. I love it, but is it what I want to do with my life? I’m not sure. And I moved to this town because I wanted something different, but I’m still not entirely sure what. Sorry, I must sound crazy.”
“Not at all.”
“Every time I try to picture what my life is supposed to look like, I just get this big fuzzy blur of nothing. No shape. No direction.” She pauses. “I went on that hike yesterday to figure it out, actually. Clear my head a bit.”
“How’d that go?” I ask with a grin.
She arches her eyebrow and smiles. “I got attacked by a bear.”
“Right. So, did that give you any insights?”
“I wish.”
I think about what she just told me.
“You moved here on your own in your early twenties,” I say.