Chapter 3 — A Leap of Faith

Clare

Clare stood at the counter, hands wrapped around her empty coffee mug, staring blankly into the dregs at the bottom. The café buzzed faintly around her—Mia humming to herself as she wiped down tables, the low murmur of the espresso machine, and the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen. It was familiar yet foreign all at once, like slipping on an old jacket only to find it didn’t fit quite the way she remembered.

Her gaze drifted to the corner table where she’d been sitting earlier, the one with her and Ben’s initials carved into its surface. B.C. + C.D. It hadn’t seemed like such a big deal back then—a spur-of-the-moment act, done with a clunky metal key and a lot of giggling. They’d pressed the indentations into the wood like a promise, though neither of them had said it aloud. Now, the sight of those letters made her chest ache with a messy cocktail of nostalgia and regret.

The café bore other signs of its age, too. The once-vibrant posters on the walls were faded and curling at the edges. A few tables sat empty during what should have been a bustling mid-morning. Even the air seemed quieter, the lively hum of conversation replaced by a softer, more subdued rhythm. Clare hadn’t noticed these things at first, but now they stood out, pressing against her like whispered reminders of how much had changed—not just here, but in her.

Mia’s cheerful voice pulled her back to the present. “Another latte? Or are we switching gears to something stronger?” The young barista winked, her energy an almost dizzying contrast to Clare’s somber mood.

Clare managed a smile. “Just water, thanks.”

Mia tilted her head, studying Clare with a kind of curiosity that felt too knowing. “You’re thinking really hard over there. You okay?”

“Just... a lot on my mind,” Clare admitted, setting her mug down on the counter. She hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of the ceramic. “The café—it’s... different. Still lovely, but quieter than I remember.”

Mia’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, and Clare caught the flicker of something beneath her upbeat exterior—worry, maybe, or doubt. But Mia recovered quickly, her tone bright. “Yeah, it’s been a little rough lately. But hey, that’s why we’re still here, right? Fighting the good fight.” She grinned, though it seemed more like a reflex than genuine optimism.

Clare nodded, her throat tight. The weight of the place—its struggles and its history—pressed on her shoulders. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she settled for murmuring, “It’s still beautiful.”

As Mia turned to grab a glass of water, Clare’s thoughts wandered back to Ben. She hadn’t missed the way his jaw had tightened when he saw her, or how his gaze had darted to the carved initials before snapping away like he’d been burned. He’d disappeared into the back shortly afterward, and though she’d expected him to return, he hadn’t.

She glanced toward the storage room door, half-expecting him to emerge, clipboard in hand and that familiar guarded expression on his face. He didn’t.

The silence between them had been deafening. She’d come back to this town for many reasons—too many to untangle all at once—but she couldn’t deny that Ben was one of them. Or rather, the part of herself she’d left behind with him. The memory of their last argument flickered in her mind—his voice sharp with frustration, hers cracking under the weight of her own ambition. She’d told herself she didn’t regret leaving. She wasn’t sure she believed it anymore.

“Here you go.” Mia slid the glass of water across the counter with a smile. “So, what’s the deal with you and Ben?”

Clare blinked, startled. “What?”

“I mean,” Mia said, leaning on the counter with a conspiratorial grin, “it’s obvious you two go way back. He hasn’t looked that tense since the health inspector showed up unannounced last year.”

Clare laughed despite herself, the sound dry and a little too loud. “We... yeah, we go back. A long way.” She took a sip of her water, stalling. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated is my favorite kind of story,” Mia said with a shrug. “But hey, no pressure. Just saying, this place could use a little drama. Keeps things interesting.”

Clare smiled again, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think it has enough drama for now.”

Mia straightened suddenly, her expression shifting as if she’d just remembered something important. “You know, we’ve been trying to figure out ways to bring more people in. Like, events or something. I mean, we do the open mic nights, but lately, turnout’s been... eh.” She gestured vaguely, her enthusiasm dimming for just a moment. “You seem like the creative type. Any ideas?”

Clare hesitated, her heart picking up speed. The idea had been bubbling in the back of her mind ever since she’d walked through the door that morning, but she wasn’t sure if she had the right to voice it. What if Ben shut her down again? What if she overstepped, trying to fix something that wasn’t hers to fix? The knot of doubt tightened in her chest. But then she thought of the café as it used to be—alive with music, laughter, and the smell of fresh coffee mingling with creativity. She couldn’t keep quiet.

“What about live music events? Bigger ones, I mean. Something to really draw people in.”

Mia’s eyes lit up, her grin wide. “Now we’re talking! Like a mini concert series or something?”

“Exactly,” Clare said, warming to the idea despite herself. “You could feature local musicians, maybe some spoken word artists, too. Make it a whole experience—like the café used to do.” She paused, glancing around, and added softly, “It could remind people why this place matters.”

Mia nodded enthusiastically. “I love it. And you—you could totally help organize it, right?”

Clare froze, her excitement faltering. “Oh, I don’t know. I mean, I’m just passing through. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”

Mia waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Ben needs all the help he can get, even if he won’t admit it. Besides, you’re obviously passionate about this place.”

Clare opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps cut her off. She turned just as Ben stepped out of the storage room, his expression unreadable.

“What are you two plotting?” he asked, his tone clipped but not unkind.

Mia grinned, completely unfazed. “Clare here was just suggesting we do some big live music events to bring in more business. Isn’t that a great idea?”

Ben’s gaze flicked to Clare, his jaw tightening. “We’ve tried events before. They’re a lot of work, and they don’t always pay off.”

“That’s because you insist on doing everything yourself,” Mia shot back, crossing her arms. “Maybe if you actually let someone else help—”

“Mia.” His tone was sharp enough to make her fall silent, though she didn’t look the least bit cowed.

Clare took a breath, stepping in before the tension could escalate. “I’m not trying to overstep,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I just... I think it could work. And I’d be happy to help, if you’d let me.”

Ben’s gaze lingered on her, his blue eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite place. For a moment, she thought he might actually consider it. But then he shook his head, his voice flat. “Thanks, but we’re fine.”

Mia groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “Fine? Ben, come on. The café is—”

“Mia,” he interrupted, his tone firmer this time. He turned to Clare, his blue eyes colder than she remembered. “Thanks for the suggestion. But like I said, we’re fine.”

Clare forced a smile, though it felt brittle. “Of course. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Ben nodded curtly and walked away, retreating to the kitchen without another word.

Mia sighed, shaking her head. “Don’t take it personally. He’s just... stubborn. But he’ll come around. He always does.”

Clare wasn’t so sure. She watched the kitchen door swing shut behind him, her chest tight with a mix of frustration and something softer—something that felt a lot like guilt.

She wanted to help, not just for the café’s sake but for Ben’s. For the part of her that still felt tethered to this place, to him, no matter how much time had passed. But maybe she’d been wrong to think she could come back and make a difference.

Still, as she returned to her table and opened her laptop, a spark of determination flickered in her chest. She wasn’t ready to give up—not yet.

Clare hit record and began to speak, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside her. “There’s a place in my hometown that’s more than just a café. It’s a sanctuary, a meeting ground, a stage for dreams—big and small. It’s a place that’s struggling, like so many others, but it’s worth saving. And today, I want to tell you why...”

The words flowed easily, carried by her love for the space and the memories it held. She didn’t know if Ben would ever let her help, but at least she could do this. At least she could tell the story of the café, its history, and its heart.

And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to spark something bigger.