Home > No Filter (Barks & Beans Cafe Cozy Mystery #1)

No Filter (Barks & Beans Cafe Cozy Mystery #1)
Author: Heather Day Gilbert

1

 

 

My nail polish matched the dirt outside my patio. I downed a long sip of sweet iced tea and wiggled my freshly painted toes. What had possessed me to pick up this "Burnt Mesa" shade anyway?

More importantly, what was I even doing in Starville, South Carolina?

I set my nearly empty glass down on the wicker table, making my hammock sway precariously as I eased back into it. I hated this kind of heat, the shimmering swelter of an unforgiving late August sun, but I hated air conditioning even more. I never seemed to be the right temperature in this state I'd settled in when I'd married my husband seven years ago.

Correction: EX-husband.

I'd discovered a bit too late that the seven year itch wasn't merely an amusing concept—Jake had cheated not once, but several times, and, in an Oscar-worthy performance, he'd announced that fact to me this past Christmas vacation. I'd been too blind to suspect him of it or even snoop into his texts, like my DMV coworker had suggested when I tried to justify why he was working late so often.

He'd walked out, forcing me to indefinitely cover the rent on our one-bedroom brick house.

The cicada whirr intensified, and I gave up at my attempt to relax on the patio. I rolled off the hammock before it could toss me over, something it seemed to enjoy doing.

My cell phone rang. I lazily glanced at the screen, then did a double take.

It was my brother, Bo. His given name was Boaz, but he never went by that. Another thing he never did was call me this time of day, since he logged long hours working as vice president at Coffee Mass, a wholesale coffee bean importer in California. I was a bit apprehensive as I picked up.

"Hey, sis," he said.

I heard hammering going on in the background. "What's up?" I asked. "Sounds like a construction zone there."

"It is," he said, and I could picture the crinkles fanning his sky blue eyes as he smiled. "Macy, I have some news."

I knew Bo had gotten engaged to his coworker Tara back in March, but given my freshly divorced status, I hadn't been as enthusiastic as I should've been. I tried to inject happiness into my tone. "Oh, yeah? Did you set a date?"

"What? Oh, no. I should've called you. The engagement is off." He fell silent.

My temper flared. "How—why—no girl in her right mind—"

"It wasn't entirely her fault," he said. "But that's not what I'm calling about. I actually made another decision last month." He hesitated.

My brother wasn't usually one to mince words. "Okay, and what was that?" I prodded.

He let out a breath. "Macy, I sold my shares and retired early. I'm back home."

I sank onto a chair, grabbing for my watered-down tea as if it were a lifeline. "You did what?" Talk about impulsive. Talk about letting someone derail your life.

"Oh wait, there's more." He chuckled. "I've got a business proposition for you...but the only stipulation is, you'd have to move back here. You think you'd be willing to do that?"

I rubbed my glass against my sweaty forehead, darkening my strawberry blonde bangs and plastering them against my eyes. I shoved them aside and tried to focus on what my brother was saying.

Would I be willing to move?

"Tell me more," I said.

 

 

Turns out, my brother, who had always been quite innovative, had decided to open a cafe in our hometown of Lewisburg, West Virginia. One half would be dedicated to coffee, hot drinks, and pastries, and the other half would feature a large area where customers could relax by petting rescue dogs.

"I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation at Christmas," he explained. "When I asked what job you'd do if you had all the money in the world, you said you'd want to work with dogs, because that made you the happiest. And you know how much I've studied coffee over the past ten years. I had the idea that we could meld our favorite hobbies together in a cafe."

"So you're saying this was all my idea?" I asked.

He laughed. "Sure, if you want to say so. Anyway, when I researched it, I saw that petting cafes aren't a new idea—in fact, they've really caught on in Asia and out West," Bo said. "Lewisburg would be perfect for it, since it's so close to The Greenbrier Resort. We'd get the high-end clientele, as well as regulars who work in town."

He went on to explain that he'd launched a renovation on the front section of his inheritance—our great aunt Athaleen's house—and it was now a nearly finished cafe. He hadn't asked me to participate in that phase of his plan, because he knew I disliked all things remodeling.

Now the back section of Auntie A's was empty, and he thought it would be perfect if I could move in there so I'd be on the spot in case of any business emergencies. Besides, it was the house we'd grown up in, and he hated to rent it to anyone.

Since dogs had been my passion since childhood, he wanted me to handle the "Barks" half of the Barks & Beans Cafe—which I thought was a clever name for it. He could easily run the "Beans" half, with all his connections in the coffee bean world.

I glanced at the heat, shimmering off my blacktop driveway. I had a pleasant vision of digging in soil that was brown, not red. Of sitting on a back porch as a mountain breeze toyed with my hair. Of petting dogs all day long for my job. All my misgivings about moving back to the state where my parents died evaporated as I realized Bo had given me something to look forward to in my mundane life.

"I'm in," I said. And I knew I'd never look back.

 

 

"Let's take a look at the cafe again," I said, anxious for a breather from stripping floral wallpaper in Auntie A's dining room.

Bo glanced over from his side of the room. He rubbed at his red stubble beard. "You sure? This is a pretty big job, and I won't have as much time to help after we open."

"I'm sure." It was obvious my big brother had more endurance than I did, even though he was forty-one and I was only thirty-seven. I was ready to poop out for the day.

After giving a three weeks' notice with my job and my landlord back in South Carolina, I'd sorted and packed all my belongings, then moved back to West Virginia. I'd only been here a week, but I felt exhausted and ill-prepared to tackle even the smaller maintenance chores, like replacing burned-out light bulbs and aged-out appliances.

Bo obligingly pulled a keyring out of his pocket and walked over to the wooden connecting door that led us into the renovated front section of Auntie A's house.

I followed him in, taking in the cozy feel of the place, which was outfitted with a top-of-the-line stainless steel espresso machine that cost more than my used Honda had. The interior of the shop was delightful—not a trace of mass-produced kitschy decor. Bo had painted the exposed brick walls white, installed dark wood flooring, and had used rough-hewn wood for the rustic tables and coffee bar. He'd even built bookcases to line one wall. The cafe felt full of character and even comforting, somehow.

But the Barks section of the cafe was what thrilled my heart the most, since that was going to be my specialty. Rough wood divider walls and a gate separated the cafe from the petting area, allowing cafe-goers to see the dogs but still feel some privacy from them. The concrete floor in the dog area contrasted nicely with the warmth of the built-in benches, feeding areas, and dog toy bins. Bo had wisely added a side door leading to an outdoor fenced dog run, where pooches could attend to their bathroom needs.

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