Coffee Sonata

  Synopsis

  A story of Rediscovery and Romance

  Nothing exciting ever happens in East Quay, a quaint New England coastal town. Not until its most celebrated daughter returns for one last performance.

  Four women, Manon, Eryn, Vivian and Mike, whose lives unexpectedly intersect in a small town by the sea share one thing in common -- they all have secrets. Despite tragedy, past and present, each learns that life holds more than they dared dream.Manon Belmont, socialite and president of a wealthy foundation, leads a closeted life. She thrives helping others, but denies herself happiness for reasons she shares with no one. Nothing is the same after she meets Eryn Goddard, a reporter who has lost track of her dream of a grand writing career years ago. Eryn is suddenly rescued from her mundane assignments at the local paper when Vivian Harding, East Quay's only world famous celebrity, returns for a farewell performance. Vivian carries with her a secret that she fears has not only ended her career, but will also destroy her life. She finds an unexpected source of understanding in Michaela “Mike” Stone, a street smart and brilliant café owner. Mike, in turn, works hard developing her business, and even harder at overcoming the shadows of her past. She feels utterly protective of Vivian, but will she dare to open her heart again?

  Coffee Sonata

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  By the Author

  Course of Action

  Coffee Sonata

  Sheridan’s Fate

  September Canvas

  Fierce Overture

  The Supreme Constellations Series:

  Protector of the Realm

  Rebel’s Quest

  Warrior’s Valor

  Coffee Sonata

  © 2006 By Gun Brooke. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-294-8

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: May 2006

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Jennifer Knight, Shelley Thrasher and Stacia Seaman

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design By Sheri (GraphicArtist2020@hotmail.com)

  Acknowledgements

  Pol, USA, helped me research backgrounds and chisel out the back story of my characters.

  Jay, Canada, read everything, commented on everything, and helped me keep track of the plot and stay in tune with the characters throughout the story.

  G. J. Griffin, New Zealand; meticulous, patient, and with an eye for grammar, spelling, syntax, and style. This is the umpteenth story she has helped me with, bless her heart.

  Georgi, Scotland, reader extraordinaire, gave me fantastic feedback and a lot of encouraging support.

  Barbara, USA, read, commented, read again, and kept assuring me I was on the right path.

  Lisa, Sweden, helped me keep my “Swedish voice” though I write in English. No-nonsense and grounded, my Swedish beta reader was invaluable to me.

  Also thank you to Mom, Malin, and Henrik, for your never-ending support.

  Bold Strokes Books:

  Radclyffe, publisher, thank you for the wonderful environment you create for us at Bold Strokes. I am blessed to belong to the best publishing house possible!

  Dr. Shelley Thrasher, editor, thank you for making me look good! You make my voice stronger, and my stories better, and I love working with you.

  Sheri, graphic artist, I loved the cover the moment I saw it, and didn’t want to change a thing. You are a wiz!

  Stacia Seaman, editor, thank you for your Argus eyes, with which you examine every single syllable. The quality of your work is amazing.

  Connie Ward, publicist, Lori A, newsletter editor, thank you for all that you do to promote BSB books.

  Dedication

  For Elon

  Who loves coffee——and me!

  For Joanne

  Who showed me Rhode Island, and who loves coffee and music——just like me!

  My Warrior Princess,

  Remember our deal; I keep you safe and you save the world.

  For my family and friends…...

  Whether you drink coffee or not—your voices are music to my ears.

  Sonata

  so·na·ta

  Pronunciation: so-'na-ta

  Function: noun

  Etymology: Italian, from sonare to sound, from Latin

  : an instrumental musical composition typically of three or four movements in contrasting forms and keys

  Source: Merriam-Webster OnLine

  *

  Behind every successful woman...is a substantial amount of coffee.

  —Stephanie Piro

  Coffee should be black as hell, strong as death, and as sweet as love.

  —Turkish proverb

  The Taste of Your Name

  For my love

  I exhale your name out of gratitude

  And passion

  It rolls off my tongue when I am awake

  And in dreams

  I breathe it against your lips

  Before the kiss

  I want to taste your name

  Across your skin

  I will murmur it against your neck

  Let it vibrate against you

  Where as my voice is breathless

  Yours is distinct and precise

  You say my name like it was coffee

  You know it throws me

  It will be easy to hide in you

  Wrap your love around me

  Then when fire consumes us

  I will bless us with your name

  Gun Brooke, 2001

  Prologue

  “What do you mean, you want to cancel the tour, Vivian?” Malcolm Hayes said. “You’re scheduled for concerts in Tokyo, Hong Kong, and Singapore. They’ll claim damages and might damn well get them.”

  Vivian Harding turned from the window to her obviously stunned agent. “I don’t care. I can’t do anything about it, Malcolm.” Impatient, she tapped the surface of the Venetian desk in her hotel room with perfectly manicured fingernails. “Just make it happen.”

  “But why so late? And so sudden?”

  “I…I can’t talk about it now. We’ll discuss it in more detail when I’m back in the States.”

  “What’s the matter? You don’t have anybody to water your plants right now?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass.” Vivian pressed trembling fingers to her eyelids. “I fully intended to honor my contract, Malcolm. All I can say right now is that this is the only course of action.”

  “Dear God. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  Malcolm was also her friend, and Vivian watched with regret how utterly stricken he looked as he sank down on a chair behind the desk.

  After a brief silence he cleared his throat and began again. “I’ll take care of it, Viv. I promise.”

  Chapter One

  The bell above the café door gave a muted ping. As Michaela Stone glanced up from folding napkins behind the counter, she saw a woman she didn’t recognize coming toward her.

  Dressed in a casual yet elegant white and navy blue sweat suit, she looked like she’d just stepped off a
yacht. Maybe she had. Her blond hair, kept in a loose twist, sparkled like it was alive. Mike found herself imagining how it would look if it were set free.

  “Welcome to the Sea Stone Café,” she managed, embarrassed to realize that she was staring. “I’m Mike. What can I get you?”

  “Just coffee.” The woman’s voice was so rich and full it reminded Mike of a blend of espresso and smooth Belgian chocolate.

  “There’s no such thing as ‘just coffee,’ ma’am.” Mike pointed at the blackboard over the counter with a grin. “We offer ten different beans, and you can have brewed coffee, boiled coffee, ice coffee, cappuccino, latte, macchiato…well, you see over there?”

  “Ah…nothing ordinary will do, I see.” Raising her porcelain blue eyes to the board, the woman read through all the coffee varieties. “Okay, a house blend cappuccino.”

  “Excellent choice. Coming right up.” Mike abandoned the napkins and walked over to the espresso machine. While her hands automatically created the cappuccino, she thought about the woman waiting for it. It wasn’t tourist season in New Quay, Rhode Island, and even then, she rarely saw anyone who looked like this woman just drop in. It wasn’t just her clothes that suggested wealth and sophistication. The way the blonde carried herself, with ease and elegance, suggested a well-leveled self-confidence.

  She placed an extra piece of chocolate on the saucer but stopped just as she was about to serve the coffee. “Would you rather sit at a table?” Not just yet.

  “The bar’s fine, Mike. I’m Vivian, by the way.” She waited until Mike had put the coffee down before extending her hand and barely missed the cup. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Vivian.” It was surprisingly easy to call her by her first name. Vivian felt familiar. People never feel familiar this fast. What’s going on? Mike cleared her throat. “Just visiting East Quay?”

  “Yes, for a while. I’m on…hiatus.”

  Interesting choice of words. “Staying at the Marriott?”

  Vivian didn’t appear to mind the third degree. She sipped her coffee and looked relaxed. “No, I’m borrowing my friends’ beach house with my two dogs. It’s their summer home, but I look forward to sitting by the fire this winter.”

  “Ever experienced a New England winter? You may be surprised if you haven’t.”

  Vivian laughed and the sound rippled down Mike’s spine. “I know they can be brutal. I grew up in East Quay, a thousand years ago. The town has changed a lot, but I’m sure the winters are the same.”

  “We get snowed in all the time. As odd as it sounds, that’s good for business.”

  “Yes, I bet people are even more interested in hot coffee when there’s a cold wind outside.”

  “You got it.”

  Mike caught herself staring at Vivian and grabbed a new pile of napkins. She neatly folded one in three, turned it over once, and attached the simple brass napkin ring.

  “You work here alone?”

  Unexpectedly happy she hadn’t bored Vivian, Mike shook her head. “No, I’ve got three part-time employees. One comes in for the evening rush.”

  “You’re the owner?” A surprised smile revealed perfect white teeth when Vivian leaned forward, her fingertips playing with the rim of the coffee cup. “Well, I certainly admire what you’ve done with the place. It was already pretty run down when I was a child.”

  “It was condemned when I bought it, been sitting empty for several years. I had to renovate for six months before I could get a license to serve food.”

  “And look at it now.”

  Mike warmed to the approval in Vivian’s voice, pleased that she appreciated Mike’s hard work. She watched Vivian sip her coffee, closing her eyes as she tasted it, and she looked so sensual Mike wondered if that was how she looked when she made love. Shocked at her thoughts and disturbingly aroused, she stared at the napkin she’d unconsciously wrinkled beyond recognition. Damn, what’s wrong with me?

  “How long have you been in business, Mike?”

  “Almost six years. I graduated from the University of Rhode Island, and then fate called me to this old marina. I fell in love with its beautiful vintage yachts and this abandoned building begging to become a café.”

  “And you listened.” Vivian’s eyes sparkled.

  “I did. It’s hard work, but I’ve never regretted that.” What I regret is all the years I wasted before that. Despite Mike’s best efforts, thinking about the past left her feeling naked and exposed. “This is also my home,” she continued, and tried to find the security that thought usually carried. “I live in the basement.”

  “In the basement? In this old house? Is that…healthy?”

  “Sure.” Pulled out of the mood she hated for a few seconds, Mike laughed, again warmed, this time by Vivian’s apparent concern. “I had it completely restored when the café started to make money. Before that I lived in a small apartment in town. Now I have lots of space. And it’s not as dark as you’d think.” And there’s really nothing wrong with darkness. You can hide well if you stay out of the light.

  *

  Vivian Harding couldn’t take her eyes off Mike’s face and the shadows flickering in her eyes. She felt like a voyeur as she sat across the counter and wondered what had caused such torment.

  The young woman, or perhaps not as young as she’d first thought, was beautiful in the darkest of ways. Her hair was so black that the highlights were blue. They emphasized her blue-black eyes, set deeply under black, full eyebrows. Her features were strong, with sharp planes and angles—a face full of character. “So you’re like me, live and breathe work?”

  “I guess that’s true, to some extent.” For a moment, Mike’s expression lightened. She placed a new pile of folded napkins next to Vivian. “I watch a lot of movies and play the drums. Especially if I’m angry. That’s why I started—to get rid of stress in college.”

  “Ever play professionally?”

  “No. Except for the gigs at college where they paid us in free beer.”

  “Beer?” Vivian couldn’t stand the stuff. The smell, the taste; it was all bad. She wasn’t about to insult Mike’s taste, though.

  “Yeah, there was a lot of beer, but I stayed away from it. I don’t drink.”

  More shadows. Vivian leaned forward so she wouldn’t miss any of Mike’s facial expressions. “I don’t drink much either these days. A glass of red wine on special occasions, that’s all. I’m on, well…some medication, and the two don’t play nicely together.”

  “I’d say so.” Mike grimaced, making Vivian laugh. “I knew someone who mixed alcohol with a little bit of everything. Everything but food.”

  “Sounds like a careless person,” Vivian suggested cautiously. I bet that was someone close to you.

  “To say the least.”

  They exchanged another long look, and again Vivian felt something indescribable happen, something she couldn’t grasp, but it was as tangible as the coffee cup in her hands. Mike’s mix of dark wildness, combined with an undeniable vulnerability, stirred something inside Vivian and induced a faint tingle in her stomach. She was amazed at her own interest, and it did take her mind off the issues she was battling. Vivian welcomed the change of focus.

  “You said you have dogs.” Mike changed the subject, her eyes now black as thunderclouds. “What kind?”

  “Great Danes,” Vivian replied, trying to sound cheerful. She wanted to assure her she had nothing to fear from someone who was almost hiding in East Quay. Mike’s look of relief and the disappearing tremors in her hands were worth the effort. “They’re brothers, six years old, called Perry and Mason.”

  Mike laughed aloud and the irresistible sound produced goose bumps on Vivian’s arms. “Perry and Mason! You a Raymond Burr fan?”

  “Not really, but somehow the names fit. They’re both nosy and stubborn.” Vivian grinned. “They’re also sweet and well behaved, most of the time. Since I’m alone in that beach house, they make me feel safe.”

  “Is your family stil
l here in East Quay, Vivian?”

  “No. I moved my parents to a condo near the harbor in Newport as soon as I could afford to. My mother always wanted to live near the water, and nowadays she loves to watch the ships come and go. Especially the QE2.”

  “What do you know.” Mike sounded enthusiastic. “I went to Newport once, with a family I stayed with, and we toured the QE2. I was stunned, beyond stunned. I knew one day I’d travel on that ship and visit all the ports she went to.” Leaning forward, she placed her chin in her palms. “I still want to.”

  “And you should, cara. You have plenty of time, but the sooner the better.”

  “Have you sailed with her?”

  Vivian nodded. “Yes, but it was a working voyage.”

  “You don’t exactly strike me as a sailor.” Mike winked.

  Laughing, Vivian shook her head, covering her forehead and feigning exasperation. “You found me out,” she huffed. “Honestly, I was part of the entertainment.”

  “You’re a performer?”

  “Yes. I sing.”

  “How great. I play the drums and you sing—we have potential.” A fierce blush crept up from Mike’s neck and spread to her pale cheeks like wildfire. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

  “I know, I know. But I see your point.” Vivian smiled, charmed by Mike’s apparent confusion.

  The bell pinged and a young woman poked her head in. “Sorry I’m late for work, Mike! I’ll just park my bike and be right in.”