She has this way of making everyone feel special like they’re the most interesting person in the room. It’s part of what makes her so impossible to resist.

Then again, with my past, I’ve always known better than to get too close.

There’s always something beneath the surface with her, an unreadable depth behind her bright smiles. It’s in the way her eyes linger just a second too long like she’s catching things she won’t put into words.

Maybe that’s why I like her so much. No matter what she’s been through in the past, she is still a ray of sunshine.

Aubrey’s energy is contagious, but it’s also exhausting. If I’m going to survive this catch-up session, I might as well get comfortable. I settle into the booth tucking one foot under my thigh. It’s a habit I’ve had since I was a kid—like creating a little sanctuary in whatever space I’m in.

As I watch her move behind the counter, effortlessly commanding the space, I take in the shop around me. It’s warm and inviting, the kind of place that smells like roasted beans and fresh pastries, with soft music playing in the background. The town itself still feels new to me, like a puzzle I haven’t quite put together yet, but there’s quality to it—especially the people—that makes me feel like I’m supposed to be here.

She brings over what looks like an iced latte and delicious-smelling chocolate muffins. Aubrey slides a cup across the counter with a flourish. “Here you go, Darling. My latest creation. Tell me how amazing it is.”

A rich flavor I can’t quite place explodes on my tongue as I sip on the latte. I’m usually a simple caramel person but this is completely unexpected and I love it. I look over at her to tell her and a smile takes over her face and her eyes crinkle.

“This is amazing!” I exclaim, looking up at her.

Her smile widens with satisfaction. That look—that moment when she knows she’s nailed the balance just right—is what makes people fall in love with her. “I knew you’d love it.”

She perches on the edge of the booth, already launching into a whole explanation about the healing properties of elderberry, and how it’s the perfect autumn drink when everyone starts getting sick. Her hands move animatedly as she talks, her enthusiasm spilling out in every word, pulling me in, and making me want to listen.

I hear a musical chuckle from the other room, right before a honeyed voice with a southern drawl calls out, “Auntie, who are you lecturing? Not everyone wants to know every plant you have in your garden. Besides, I thought you were supposed to be helping me get this recipe just right?”