Renaissance

Chapter 21

The little bell tinkled as he entered the shop again, welcoming him back from the cold. With a heavy sigh, he slid back into his booth where his mug still stood, a tad cooler than before but still warm. He cupped his hands around it and relished the heat.

"Nearly knocked the mug onto me, you did."

He looked up to see the waiter from before sit down opposite him.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he fumbled apologetically. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," he replied, and Greyson glanced at him again. He had short brown hair and his cool blue eyes were studying Greyson. "So what was that all about?"

He stared back down at his mug, as if the swirls on top of the coffee would form her face. "Thought I saw someone I was looking for." Picking up his mug, he drank a mouthful of the vanilla latte. The bittersweet taste lingered on his lips and he could feel the heat sinking comfortably in his stomach.

The waiter remained quiet, still staring at him.

After a while, Greyson could take it no more and gave him a strange look. "What?"

"You're Greyson Chance, aren't you?" He said after a while.

His eyes widened, but then he laughed dryly. "Yeah. It's not such a big secret since I'm not wearing any disguise. Kinda surprised no one has jumped me yet." The tone in which he said the last sentence was completely matter-of-fact and not arrogant, and the waiter appreciated this.

"Quiet town has its perks," he said. Another silence fell between them, and Greyson picked up his mug to take another sip.

"You're looking for Melodie, aren't you?"

He choked and nearly made his coffee spill. Setting the mug down on the table quickly, he stared at the waiter. "You know her?"

"Duh, you talked about her at the Grammy Awards on worldwide TV," he smiled.

A small smile of disappointment appeared on his face and he sunk back into his seat. "Oh. Right."

"Of course, she does come here everyday for coffee."

Greyson started violently. "What?"

"You just missed her, in fact," the waiter continued, drawing circles on the surface with a finger, "when I came to give you your coffee. She was leaving. I shouted a bye to her."

With a loud groan, Greyson banged his head against the window pane.

"But of course, she'll be back again tomorrow. Same time, same place," he said, getting up. "I have to get back to work. See you tomorrow."

He hesitated, but called out to the waiter, who turned around. "What's your name?"

"Chace." He smiled back at Greyson. "Melodie's best friend."

And he disappeared back into the kitchen before Greyson could thank him or say anything.

♫ (play music in multimedia)

The next morning, he was back again. Chace did say that she was always at the café at the same time everyday - which was about 6PM then - but he was not taking any chances on missing her again. He did find it strange that Melodie did not get coffee in the morning, but in the evening, though.

That quirk made him zone out for hours on end, wondering what Melodie did everyday in this small town. Did she write music? Did she bike for an hour in the morning? Did she take care of animals at the shelter?

He had entered the café again at 8AM, with his songwriting notebook, stationary and laptop in tow, sitting at the same booth he had sat in yesterday. Every few hours, he would order a coffee - which was bad for him, he knew - to accompany him to while the time away. Each hot mug was delivered by Chace, who would give him a smile and sometimes a free doughnut or sandwich, and the two would make small talk for a few minutes before they both went back to what they were doing. He found himself growing more comfortable in the tiny abode than he did in his hotel room.