"What on earth are you staring at?" Mrs. Byatt asked the waitress. "I'm ready to order. Pay attention. We'll all have coffee."
"You know very well who she's looking at, and why," Mrs. Collins interjected. "It's ok, dear, you're still new to these parts. You'll get used to Mrs. Muir and her strange ways."
"I'd prefer tea, thanks," Mrs. Dunmore added brusquely. "And no talk of you-know-who."
"But isn't she the writer who –"
"Yes, dear," Mrs. Grover's spinster daughter smiled at the waitress. "She's a lovely lady and evidently quite absent-minded. Don't take it personally if she stares right through you."
"At him you mean," Mrs. Coburn cocked her head in the general direction of Mrs. Muir's booth. "Now, young lady, close your mouth and go see if there are enough pastries left to go around."
"So the rumors are true? How perfectly wonderful!" The waitress clutched the order pad to her chest, and sighed. "How romantic."
"Sit down!" Miss Grover commanded Mrs. Coburn firmly. "Leave Mrs. Muir alone. She's talked to herself since the day she arrived and if she wants to sit over there and moon at the sugar dish that's her business. Now please be civil to our young waitress. Her parents just bought a summerhouse off Schooner Bay Drive and unless you want more drama than we already have, I suggest you focus on our little group here. I believe young Adele intends to enroll in creative writing at University. The last thing we need is another writer with a vivid imagination publishing pieces about our odd little town."
"I wish you'd stop using that phrase," Mrs. Dunmore sighed. "That's for outsiders."
"Well, it's certainly better than 'gothic little town,' as the Boston Globe opined when she dared to publish those made-up memoirs." Mrs. Byatt sniffed. "Book, I mean."
"I didn't see that review," Miss Grover mused to no one in particular. "That's splendid. I'll make sure the historical society gets its hands on a copy."
"Now look at Mrs. Muir! She's leaning her head like she's resting it on someone's shoulder!" Mrs. Collins whispered. "Maybe she really can touch him!"
"We have just enough pastries left to go around –"
"Thank you dear." Miss Grover reached for the cream and idly poured some into the steaming cup before her. Her spoon clattered onto the saucer. The others were too busy reaching for fresh cinnamon rolls to note her reaction.
"Cream, please," Mrs. Dunmore asked. She picked up her spoon to stir the hot drink and froze, staring at the cup.
"What has gotten into you?" Mrs. Collins observed tartly as she picked up the silver creamer and added the fresh cream to her coffee. "What on earth?"
"It's him," Mrs. Coburn hissed as she sat her cup back down. "On this earth alright."
"This is so wrong," Mrs. Byatt mumbled under her breath as she stared at her own cup.
"Speaking of which – " Mrs. Collins warned, stirring furiously. "Here she comes."
"Good morning ladies," Mrs. Muir smiled as she pulled on her coat. "Call me if there's anything else you need for the kids' Valentine's Day party this afternoon. I'll plan on arriving at school around two."
She paused to wind her scarf securely around her neck. "Oh, and he says to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day!" Mrs. Muir breezed out the door, leaving a snap of cold, Canadian air in her wake.
The ladies stared at the cream hearts floating in each of their cups. Mrs. Collins picked up a fork, but to no avail. The hearts refused to dissolve.
"Well then," Miss Grover broke the silence finally. "Thank you, Captain Gregg. I can't speak for all of the ladies, but I do believe this is a much nicer gesture than buying a cheap Hallmark card like the one Mrs. Coburn's husband purchased last night at the drugstore.
"Now, ladies, I suggest we drink up so as not to scare off our young waitress on her very first day at work."
She stared thoughtfully at Mrs. Byatt and Mrs. Coburn. "Much, much more meaningful, almost spiritual I daresay." The older woman lifted her cup, pinky extended, and smiled over the rim before sipping the heart.
The café door opened then closed by itself, bells tinkling loudly. The women gaped. Miss Grover sipped her coffee pensively. "How romantic," she sighed to no one in particular.
At the counter, the young waitress smiled as she unfolded the piece of stationery wrapped neatly into the generous tip Mrs. Muir left on the table.
"Happy Valentine's Day and welcome to Schooner Bay from all of us at Gull Cottage!"