Grounded

Chapter 3: Stroll

by Lynn Saunders


On Tuesday morning, she doesn't come in. He looks up with a smile each time the bells on the shop door jangle, but it's never her.

It's three weeks to Christmas, and outside the large windows, High Street is coming alive with the season. Wreaths are affixed to every storefront, covered in golden ribbons and red berries, the silver of their holiday bells glinting in the pure white light of the winter morning. Between the university students preparing for the end of term and the Christmas shoppers strolling High Street, the coffee house should stay quite busy. The shop is certainly bustling with activity this morning, and he's kept occupied by a steady flow of customers until well past noon, when he finally leaves the front counter in William's capable hands and takes a seat at the little secluded table by the rear door, presumably to eat his lunch.

Instead, he holds her card between his thumb and forefinger, tapping it absently against his mobile. He keys in her number, then starts and erases several messages before letting the phone clatter to the tabletop with a sigh. He's woefully out of practice. He was never much good at this, honestly.

He tries to focus on preparations for the evening. The desserts for tonight are made. The mantle is decked in greenery, and he's bought proper linens and candles for the tables. With the fire going, it should be quite a lovely scene. He and William need only stay on top of the regular cleaning so that it doesn't stack up toward closing. He'll have to leave a bit early, make the short walk to his flat for a fresh shave and a change, and be back in an hour, ready to greet the public in his new suit. He's already a bit nervous.

His mobile buzzes, and he opens a message from Robert. Cora wants to know if you need anything for tonight.

He shakes his head and answers right back. Not a thing.

Robert has already given much more help than he can ever repay. He shifts his right leg at a sudden memory, the burst of searing hot pain that accompanied the sniper's bullet, then he stills, breathes to calm himself, and pushes those thoughts away. Even after everything he's been through, he feels they're more than even. Robert, he knows, would disagree. His old friend has told John more than once that he deserves nothing but happiness, that it's an honor to be able to help.

Happiness.

He sighs as he scrolls to Anna's number once more. Should he have called her last night? It seemed too soon, and he didn't want her to think him... overeager. Now he wonders if waiting was a mistake. Has she stayed away this morning because she'll be coming in tonight, or because he hasn't rung her? She wouldn't give him her card if she didn't want him to use it, he reasons. Still, it would be so much easier to see her in person. If she were here, he'd just bring her a treat, and perhaps they'd fall into easy conversation. An idea blooms then, and he smiles, rising carefully and making his way to the kitchen. The cake for the evening's party rests behind the delicate glass of his mother's antique dessert stand. He lifts the lid and snaps a photo, taking a deep breath before he clicks send.

The bells at the front ring once more, and he returns to help William as a large group of students filter in. They buy him out of cookies, and he wishes them luck as they settle into the cluster of tables in the far corner, lugging books and laptops. He returns promptly to the kitchen, pulling the cookie dough from the refrigerator and getting two more batches into the oven. Only then does he tentatively pull his phone from his apron pocket. She's already messaged him back, and he doesn't even try to suppress his smile as he brings up the photo.

A deep blue ceramic coffee mug is set against a stark white table. Colorful couch cushions are visible in the background, where a rather large black cat is sleeping with the white of its belly exposed. My coffee isn't as good as yours.

He hesitates only a moment before typing his response. Might I offer you some proper coffee tonight, then? He watches as she receives the message and grins when he sees that she's typing a response.

I wouldn't miss it.


She'd hoped to be fashionably late, but now she's simply quite late. Anna steps out of the cab and adjusts the strap on her heels, hoping she's not ridiculously overdressed. An hour earlier, Gwen had sat cross-legged on her bed, eating popcorn and scrolling through her mobile as Anna reviewed the contents of her friend's closet aloud. Gwen kept repeating, "wear the little black dress," without looking up, until Anna finally relented.

The shop's door rings a familiar welcome, and she brushes snow from her shoulders, hanging her coat on the rack by the door. The store is handsomely decorated for the party, and she smiles approvingly at the formal tablecloths and candlelight, pleasantly surprised by the modest crowd that's come out for the evening. Her favorite barista is nowhere to be found. She lingers in the doorway, suddenly feeling a bit unsure until a familiar figure catches sight of her and waves her in.

Mary is perfectly polished and put together as always, and she looks Anna up and down. "Maybe I'm only used to seeing you in work clothes, but you look bloody fantastic. Are you going out after?"

Anna's cheeks color. "Oh, no, I just felt like dressing up a little."

"Well, we're headed to the pub later. I've left George with a sitter and dragged Matthew out for the evening, so we aren't going home any time soon. I'm not sure how many people will be out on a weeknight, but you're welcome to come with us, of course."

Anna nods politely and looks around the room. She still can't find him. She gives a little sigh and searches for a thread of conversation. She likes Mary, and they've gotten on well together for years as Anna worked her way up in the firm, but she still feels a little self-conscious around her boss in social situations. "So, what's brought you out tonight?"

Mary smiles and rolls her eyes. "The new owner is an old mate of Dad's, so we're here to make sure the turnout is sufficient. And you?"

"Oh... I've a friend who works here."

"I was thinking it's an awfully small account to go after, especially while on holiday. It's a nice place, though, and the new owner is practically family to us." Mary nods toward the crowd in the middle of the room. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

When Anna finally catches sight of him, she's immediately glad she wore the dress. Mr. Bates is coming in through the kitchen door with another tall gentleman, who claps him on the back and shakes his hand. He's in a tailored charcoal suit, his crisp white shirt open at the collar, and judging from the smoldering way he looks at her when their eyes lock together, he likes what he sees as well.

Suddenly, Mary is trying to make introductions. "John, this is-"

"Anna," he says, squeezing her hand.

She smiles up at him and bids him good evening.

"So this is your friend who works here, then?" Mary asks with a wry grin. She turns to the other gentleman. "Anna, this is my father, Robert. Dad, this is Anna Smith."

Robert shakes her hand firmly. "Are you the Anna who just won the Quigley account?"

She nods. "One and the same."

"Well done." He nudges John with his shoulder. "You know, as of tonight, Bates here owns this place outright."

Anna doesn't try to stop herself from beaming. "That's wonderful! Congratulations!"

John gives a self-deprecating chuckle. "Well," he says, "I've had a lot of help."

"It's nothing you don't deserve," Robert replies before turning to Mary. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to Cora." He waves to a slender, dark-haired woman across the room, who gives him a strained smile. "I've left her with your grandma, and we need to intervene before they take up weapons."

"Oh, heavens, I'll come with you," Mary sighs, and just like that, Anna is left alone with her Mr. Bates.

"The shop looks beautiful tonight," she says.

He smiles conspiratorially, leaning in as if he's about to give a cheeky response, but he must think better of it, because he simply shakes her hand again instead. "Thank you for coming."

They stare at one another for a moment, and she lets her fingers linger against his perhaps a bit too long, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Now," he says finally, "what about that coffee?"

"It sounds lovely."

He directs her to sit at the counter and moves around to the back, tying on his familiar apron and starting her favorite caramel latte. She watches him work, smiling as he goes through the familiar routine. He's just placing the steaming cup in front of her when a younger man moves in quickly from the kitchen.

"Mr. Bates," he says in a low voice, "Thomas has gone."

John's expression shifts, his eyebrows knitting together. "What?"

"He got angry when Mr. Crawley announced that you were taking over, and he's walked out."

John looks around the room at the growing crowd for a moment, then assures William everything will be fine, that he will help serve in Thomas' stead. He turns to Anna. "It seems the hurdles of small business ownership are making themselves known right away."

"At least you're already wearing an apron," she points out.

He grins at her, his green eyes flashing, and it's the hint of something wonderful she sees there that keeps her lingering at the party as the next few hours pass. Mr. Bates moves about the room, balancing the large tray with practiced ease. He fields comments about his server's role with grace and good humor, and she finds herself casually tracking his comings and goings. Their eyes meet periodically, and he always smiles.

She's more relaxed now, and she falls into an easy rapport with Mary. She is introduced to the entire Crawley family, including Mary's sisters, and they all speak of John lovingly. Anna politely declines repeated invitations to accompany them all to the pub, and Mary finally lets the topic drop with a knowing smile. She meets the other server, William, who recognizes her immediately and thanks her for coming. When Anna happens upon Mrs. Bates in the crowd, the sweet old woman greets her warmly.

"It's Margaret, Dear. Now, come with me, and let's get a piece of this cake."

It's tart and sweet, and the lemon glaze makes it melt in her mouth. She closes her eyes for a moment. "I think this is the best cake I've ever tasted."

"Oh, yes, Dear. Johnny has perfected this old recipe of mine. It's an Irish Lemon, but he's taken out the whiskey."

Anna stops and stares with her fork in midair. "He made this?"

"Well, he makes all of the sweets for the shop by hand. Didn't he tell you?" She chuckles at Anna's shocked expression. "He's the second best baker in the family," she adds with a wink.

As the clock strikes nine, most everyone has made a move to leave. Mrs. Bates graciously accepts Robert's offer of a ride home, and John moves to the doorway to give his mother a hug before she goes.

"Thank you, Mum," he whispers, and Margaret smiles up and him, pinching his cheek.

"Anna, it was wonderful to see you again," she says before turning to her son once more. "I trust you'll see this lovely girl to her door," she adds in plain earshot of everyone, and John chuckles, nodding dutifully as she steps out into the winter night on Robert's arm.

Anna and John stand at the window together, watching as his mother settles gingerly into the passenger seat of the black Mercedes outside. When the car pulls away, he turns to her in the candlelight. She can hear only their breathing, the faint sounds of William moving around in the back. Other than that, she realizes, they're suddenly alone once more.

"I should probably head on," she says, plucking her coat from the rack. "It really was a wonderful evening."

He takes the coat from her gently and helps her on with it in the entryway. She turns back to tell him goodnight, and he's closer than she thought, but neither of them move away.

"Anna…" He searches her face for a moment. "Let me walk you home."

How can she possibly refuse him when he's looking at her that way? Better still, why would she want to?

He locks the door, then moves about the room, extinguishing candles and banking the fire before ushering her behind the counter and into the kitchen. It's clean and warm, and William, who's sweeping the floors, stops and stares for a moment before giving her a small smile. "I can finish up here, Mr. Bates, if you want to go on ahead."

"I'll just see Anna home, then I'll swing back to check in."

William waves him off. "Go home, Mr. Bates."

John finally nods, slinging on his overcoat, and they duck out through the back door. The December evening is frigid, and she draws her coat close around her as they fall in step easily together, sharing a companionable silence for a bit, as if it's nothing new.

"My flat isn't far, really. Just a few blocks up, on Eighth."

He looks at her, surprised. "I live a few blocks up, on Eighth."

She grins up at him. "I suppose our schedules don't align, and that's why we never run into one another."

"Except at the market," he says with a warm smile.

She covers her eyes with her hand briefly. "Except, quite literally, at the market."

"Don't be embarrassed," he says. "I'm the one who should be embarrassed, since my Friday night plans involve taking a feisty eighty year-old woman grocery shopping."

"I think it's nice," she says, and he dips his head. "She's wonderful."

"She likes you, you know. And she doesn't fall right in with many people."

Around them, the night air holds a distinct wet chill, and tiny snowflakes begin to fall once more as they cross over Sixth and High. Her feet are cold, and she really should've worn more sensible shoes if she was going to agree to trudge through the weather with him at her side, but in this moment, she doesn't care.

"It's funny, I feel like I know you," she says presently, tucking her hair behind her ears. "But beyond seeing you nearly every day in the coffee line, I suppose I don't really."

He hums thoughtfully, his hands in his coat pockets, and looks at her from the corners of his eyes. "Well, I'm a bit over forty."

She laughs. "I'm a bit over thirty."

"How long have you been at Mary's firm?"

"I guess it's been almost ten years now. What about you? How long have you been a top barista?"

He squints down at her, finding that she did intend the small joke, and she can tell he's pleased by it.

"Well, only the few months I've been at the shop, actually. Before that, I retired from the army and moved here to be closer to Mum, since she's getting older. Rob helped me find the just the right little shop to buy."

She wonders briefly why he retired at such an early age, but doesn't ask that question just yet. The snow is starting to stick, and the pavement is getting slushy, creating a wet crunch with every step. She slows down a bit, and he matches her speed.

"What else would you like to know?" he asks playfully.

"What else should I know?"

He falls silent for a moment, then sighs. "I'm divorced, and recently at that."

She stands up a little straighter, rolling her shoulders back . "So am I."

"Well, I'm sorry, but that bloke must be an idiot."

She laughs then. "I'm not going to argue with that."

Fat snowflakes begin to fall as they reach her door. "I'm sorry to get you stuck out in the weather like this, Mr. Bates."

He shrugs off her apology, and they step in under her building's awning together, tucked into a haven from the snowfall. They don't quite fit though, and flakes fall onto the back of his collar as she turns and looks up into his eyes.

"I was glad of the walk, and it's on my way home." He moves almost imperceptibly closer. "You can call me John, by the way, if you'd like to." She can feel his hesitation before he adds, "I don't want you to think you need to address me formally, even if I do love the way you say Bates."

"Are you trying to tell me you'd like to get to know me better too, then?" She's feeling rather brave this evening, after all.

He goes very still for a moment, swallowing hard, and suddenly his expression is unreadable. Oh God, she's misread everything. She's teased him without thinking, and now he's taken offense. Damn them and their easy camaraderie. She fears what's coming, but she can't turn her eyes away. She watches as he sets his jaw, preparing to be let down gently, but when his next words come, they're soft and low. They're meant only for her.

"I would like that very much."

It suddenly dawns on her that he is even more nervous than she, and the thought makes her bold. The wool of his overcoat is warm beneath her fingertips despite the chill outside as she rises on tiptoe, her hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. She kisses his cheek softly, and he looks down at her in wonder.

"Goodnight, Mr. Bates."

"Goodnight, Anna."

He shoves his hands into his coat pockets, walking backward a few steps, holding her gaze and smiling, before finally turning his collar up and heading back out into the winter evening. She watches him until he's obscured by the haze of the falling snow.


* Beta by terriejane and giginutshell.

* awesomegreentie got to pick Mrs. Bates' name, since this fic is for her.

* giginutshell requested that Anna have a cat. Of course, being a cat person, I was happy to oblige and had in fact already written him in.