TROUVAILLE ... l.danes (REWRITE)

chapter twenty; the present

LACERATION MIXED WITH LOVE OR LUST

two-thousand-and-two

WESTON'S BAKERY is quiet on Saturday mornings, surprisingly. Just after ten, Shelley sneaks through the door, where the bell has stopped working, and takes note of the lack of people taking hold of all the tables. Back in her youth, Weston's was always busy. Everyone buying coffee, buying cakes, buying sandwiches. Now, there are ten tables and only one of them is being used.

Olive perks up as Shelley walks in, stuck behind the counter like every Saturday when Fran takes the morning off and leaves her only other employee manning the till for five hours while nobody comes in. Fortunately for her, her husband takes Saturday off too, and sits behind the counter with her completing every newspaper puzzle he can get his hands on. A stack sits in front of him. In the corner, Autumn is busy taking notes, but she manages to shout out a hello to her Mom's best friend as soon as she walks in, quickly returning to the chemistry homework in front of her. Her table is currently being co-opted by the laziest troublemaker in Stars Hollow, who has his feet kicked up on the chair across from him while he flips through a James Joyce novel. Jess offers Shelley a two-fingered salute but doesn't even look up. His new girlfriend will never find him in here.

"Good morning, SJ!"

Olive is already at the coffee machine, filling the largest mug Weston's has with a latte. At Weston's there's a board hanging on the wall behind Olive's head detailing the five different types of coffee you can buy – black, white, latte, cappuccino and mocha. At Luke's, you only get coffee or decaf.

"Morning, Liv! Jeffy!" Jeff grunts in response, much too enamoured by his New Haven Register crossword. Olive swats his shoulder until he twists around on his stool and waves at Shelley. As soon as she waves back, he twists back around, pushing his glasses up to hold his black hair out of the way.

"As you can see–" Olive pushes the coffee over the counter towards her friend. "–he hasn't learned any new manners." Shelley goes to fish some spare change out of her purse, but Olive is quick to stop her, basically throwing herself over the counter to grab Shelley's arm and keep her in place. Shelley stares back at her friend, eyes widening.

"What are you– I'm guessing you heard about the Courant."

"I'm sorry. Luke accidentally told Jeff at dinner last night, and well, Jeff tells me everything. Keep your money, the coffee's on me. And a snack too! Pick any pastry, on the house!" Shelley lets out a sigh but agrees. She can't exactly turn down a free pastry, not when Olive's baking is better than any fine dining experience she might have been forced into once or twice. She takes one of the raspberry ones and ends up sitting at the table closest to the counter with Olive, heads bent low so they can talk about the interview in detail. She leaves out the voicemail. Luke is already pissed, she doesn't need her best friend to be the same.

At least give her one part of her life that isn't circling the drain.

The door swings open, the bell not working, and all their heads twist towards the new customers. Shelley freezes, coffee almost to her lips. He's tall and slim around the waist, spending enough time in the gym to build up the few muscles in his arms to make sure he doesn't look lanky from a distance. His button-up shirt is hidden by a blue sweater hidden by a black leather jacket. The jacket is just old enough to look worn in but not old enough to look like he doesn't have the money to buy a new one whenever the fancy takes him. His hair falls to his chin in thick chocolate waves, always soft to the touch, perfect to run her fingers through, to push behind his ears so she can press soft kisses there. His beard is always perfectly trimmed and if she didn't know better, she'd think he'd dye it just to make it match his hair exactly.