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Jenny's Grace

By Pat Nichols

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Chapter 1

Jenny Collins peered at her car’s gas gauge, dangerously close to empty. If she hadn’t been speeding three months earlier, that cop wouldn’t have pulled her over and unleashed an avalanche of trouble. Fired from her job. DUI school. Thirty-six-hours behind bars. How had everything gone so wrong? She’d only downed two glasses of wine. Well, maybe three. Plus, a couple of shooters. Now just shy of three hundred dollars in her purse, cancelled credit cards, and an over-drawn bank account, she had to make a decision. Fast.
At the next exit, she pulled off Interstate 20, turned toward Madison, and drove into town. After backing into a parking space on South Main, she eyed the brick buildings lining the street—none were taller than two stories. She’d never lived more than a few miles from a big city teeming with skyscrapers. Maybe she should’ve stayed in Atlanta and found a way to pay her back rent instead of moving out before dawn. Too late to second-guess her decision now. Besides, if she worked for six months and kept her expenses low, she’d save enough money to attract an investor, open her own restaurant, and prove she was nothing like her mother.
She shouldered her purse and waited for a pickup to pass before climbing out and making her way to the brick sidewalk shaded by budding trees. A symphony of chirping birds and a gentle spring breeze accompanied her as she meandered past the post office to the corner. When the traffic light changed, she dashed across the street, and walked inside a two-story brick welcome center.
The attractive, elderly woman greeted her with a smile. “Welcome to Madison.”
“How’d you know I’m not from around here?”
“I’d remember a pretty girl like you. How may I help you, sweetie?”
Jenny fingered a brochure touting Madison’s history and tourist attractions. “Do you know of any openings for an experienced chef?”
“Can’t say I do, except for Lou. She needs to hire someone to help out in her coffee shop. It’s up the street and around the corner. Lou’s place is open ‘til noon.”
Not exactly what she had in mind. She could pound the pavement hoping to find an opening, or spend another twenty for gas and try the next small town. Best to save the cash and check out the lead. “Thanks for the scoop.”
“My pleasure, and welcome to Madison.”
Jenny returned to the sidewalk and walked a block and a half. As she approached Lou’s Coffee Shop, a movie-star handsome young man with sandy blond hair and expressive blue eyes walked out.
She smiled.
He held the door open. “If you’re looking for a great cup of coffee you’ve come to the right place. Best spot’s at the end of the counter.”
“Good to know.” Jenny breathed in the subtle scent of musky aftershave, then glanced at his left hand. No ring. Their eyes met. Maybe she’d found the perfect guy for a short-term fling. After all, four months had passed since her last romance. Bad idea in a small town where everybody knew everyone’s business. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Her shoulder brushed his chest as she walked into the coffee shop and tuned into the lively chatter. The rich scent of fresh-brewed coffee mingling with cinnamon and vanilla made her mouth water and her stomach grumble. Eyes followed her as she moved to the end of the counter. She hung her purse on the back of the vacant stool and eyed the black and white checkerboard floor tiles and Formica tables. A definite fifties vibe.
“You’re new in town.” A thin, elderly woman set a cup of coffee on the counter —her quintessential gray hair pulled into a tight bun, reading glasses perched halfway down her nose. “I’m Lou Johnson, owner of this establishment.”
“Jenny Collins. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Do you want to doctor yours up, Jenny, or do you prefer black?”
“Cream and sugar, please.”
The man sitting cattycorner to Jenny nodded toward Lou. “My friend serves the best coffee in Georgia, plus a healthy dose of local gossip.”
“Don’t fill this pretty young lady’s head with nonsense, George.” Lou placed a paper napkin beside Jenny’s coffee. “What brings you to town, honey?”
Desperation. “The history. The small-town atmosphere. Actually, I’m planning to stay awhile.” She aimed her thumb toward the window. “I noticed your help-wanted sign.”
“I posted it two days ago after my assistant went into labor three weeks early.”
“This could be your lucky day, Ms. Johnson.” Jenny planted her forearms on the counter. “I’m a professionally trained, experienced chef.”
“Are you now?”
“You might be familiar with some of the restaurants showcased in my extensive portfolio.”
After Jenny rattled off a list of previous employers, Lou eyed her for a long moment. “This is what I can afford to pay for your help in my kitchen. Plus, you’ll keep all your tips.” She pulled a pen from her apron pocket, scribbled a note on a paper napkin, and pushed it across the counter.
Jenny stared at the number. Small town, small paycheck. If she accepted, she’d have to scrimp to save any money. Besides waiting tables didn’t suit her image.
“If you’re willing to show up before the crack of dawn and help serve customers after we open, you have yourself a job, honey.”
Jenny arched her brows. “Don’t you want to interview me or at least read my recommendation letters?”
“Lou has a keen nose for character.” George pushed his empty plate away. “She obviously thinks you’re a good risk.”
“He’s right.” Lou pushed her glasses up her nose. “In my seventy-plus years, I’ve learned a thing or two about people. What do you say, Jenny? Should I take that sign down or leave it up?”
Maybe she should hold out for a job that paid a lot more and didn’t require shlepping food to customers. Although, working mornings meant she’d have afternoons free, and tips would provide immediate cash. “You have yourself a new chef, Ms. Johnson.”
“Everyone calls me Lou. Knock on the shop’s back door at four tomorrow morning. For now, what can I bring you? On the house.”
“What’s the most popular item?”
George snapped his fingers. “Hands down, Lou’s cinnamon buns.”
“Then a cinnamon bun it is.”
Lou plated a large bun drizzled with vanilla icing and placed it on the counter. “I want your professional opinion.”
Jenny cut a small piece and savored the aroma before tantalizing her tasted buds.
“What’s the verdict?”
“Best I’ve ever tasted.”
Lou patted her hand. “I have a notion we’re fixing to get along like family.”
Hopefully not the insane family she’d escaped years earlier.
George cradled his coffee cup in both hands. “Where do you hail from, Miss Jenny?”
“Here and there. How about you?”
“Born and bred in Madison. Been retired for twelve years. Still show up right here every morning. Except for occasional out-of-towners, I’m well acquainted with Lou’s customers.”
“Well then.” Jenny leaned close. “How about clueing me in, so I can provide top-notch service to all these fine folks.”
“And earn yourself some good tips to boot.”
Jenny grinned. “We’re gonna get along great, George.”
Late in the morning, after Jenny charmed customers with southern hospitality and well-laced compliments, Lou poured herself a cup of coffee and ambled over. “Seems the newest member of my little team is quite the flirt. Mind you, honey, I’m not complaining. If you’re as good in the kitchen as you are working a crowd, business is likely to boom.”
Jenny noted the twinkle in Lou’s eyes. “You’re one sharp lady.”
“I have my moments. Where are you staying?”
“I don’t know yet. Any suggestions on someone who can help me find a decent rental?”
“Gibson Realty. Sam, the owner’s grandson, is a top-notch agent. You passed him on your way in. He’s one of Madison’s most sought-after bachelors. I can’t count the number of young ladies who’ve tried and failed to reel him in.”
Maybe he also preferred short-term flings. “Lots of guys and gals in my generation enjoy the single life.”
“Sam was engaged a couple years back.”
“To a local girl,” added George. “She broke it off a month before the wedding. Darn near tore Sam’s heart right out of his chest.”
Lou thumped George’s arm. “And you call me a gossip. You go on over and talk to him, Jenny.”
“I will.” She shouldered her purse and slid off her stool. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Lou.”
“Tell Sam I sent you.”
Jenny waved over her shoulder as she walked out. Following a short walk, she stopped under a canopy and fingered gold letters outlined in black on a window reflecting the park across the street. Gibson Realty. She removed a small bottle of perfume from her purse and spritzed behind each ear.
The plump, pretty woman sitting inside behind a desk motioned her inside.
Had she seen the perfume ploy? Jenny squared her shoulders and walked in.
“I’m Mary. If you’re looking for the best realtor in town, you’ve come to right place.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Mr. Gibson Senior is out, but his grandson is in his office. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Jenny’s pulse accelerated as she anticipated officially meeting the most eligible bachelor in Madison.
 

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