Disclaimer: Not mine, the title's inspired by Coffee Shop Soundtrack by All Time Low.
A/N: We're getting close to the end of book one kids, so close but there's a little bit more that's got to happen in the following three or four chapters. Just remember to keep your hands and legs inside the carpet. :) Hope you enjoy this chapter! I've never written a story this long, you guys are amazing for making me stick with this! Review if you please (because it pleases me oh so much. :D )
-S
Chapter 16: The Coffee Shop Hierarchy
Coffee shops are peculiar entities. The constant flow of people entering and leaving establishes a rough equilibrium in population but the quality of people change often enough to maintain interest.
I used to people watch at coffee shops with my father. He used to tell me that you could predict the kind of people they were by the kind of coffee they liked. The interesting ones would always order straight black coffee because, at least according to him, their lives were busy and unpredictable so the stability of a simple 'cuppa joe' was a welcome relief. Those were the kinds of people you wanted to get to know.
I had a penchant for vanilla lattés, which my father attributed to the fact that I enjoyed life's more superficial pleasures, and as an artist I couldn't disagree. After all if painting isn't a superficial profession then what is? I can't draw more than the surfaces that I observe. Emotions that are placed over them are what people want you to see, not what is on the inside.
My father only ever drank espresso. Predictably my mother drank tea. But whether this was to avoid my father's judgmental coffee hierarchy or because of her personal preference was something I never quite figured out.
I was sitting by the window with my computer open in front of me, greedily stealing the free wifi that was meant to be a communal entity. I had one of the best wireless cards on the market.
My latté was untouched at my side and I was poised with my finger over the forward from my mother's email account. I had been seated there for just over ten minutes but I had yet to open it.
The door open and I heard the jingle accompanied by a light patter of heels.
Two little boys ran in, their wavy platinum hair messily arranged about their faces. One was slightly taller than the other and authoritatively commanded his brother to sit on the floor. The shorter one was otherwise occupied, he ran into the counter with impressive determination, seemingly convinced he would get to the other side if he had enough speed.
But physics proved to be against him and he unwittingly followed his brother's advice, landing with a sudden oomph on the ground and then proceeded to wail. Their father, I presume, then darted into the store, sweeping both up in his arms and carrying them outside, taking the time to kiss the little ones boo boos and hushing him efficiently.
I watched as he left the store; the taller one, peered over the father's shoulder and looked directly at me. I smiled and raised my hand to wave slightly but he just frowned and turned away. The other one, still hiccupping from his tears, stuck his head over his father's arm upside down and gave me a watery smile.
I liked him better, I decided. Making a silly face at him as a reward, I saw him burst into giggles. His father turned around at this and offered me a tired smile before rolling his eyes at his kids and then continuing out.
Perhaps it was the sudden rush of nostalgia that hit me then or the fact that I had knew I had to do it at some point, but my finger pressed down and the email opened.
The initial letter was directed to Cecilia Hartgrove, a property settlement that transferred the ownership of Mark to her. I knew that at sixteen, I couldn't receive anything but it hurt to know that Cecilia hadn't even bothered to inform me. The reply was a single word, just two letters actually.
Ok.
There was no reason to think my mother sent the email, I mean it wasn't exactly hard to hack into that sort of thing. But whoever replied, it wasn't Cecilia, this email was cc-ed to my mother's account but the prime destination was to Cecilia. I sat back, my gaze tracing the window next to me. Four cars passed: one white, two blue and a fourth that was an odd sort of beige. I idly noted that the sky was turning an odd sort of gray, somewhere between pale silver and lavender.
Was my mother alive? Was this just a trick like everything else that I'd thought I'd found out so far. Nothing seemed to lead to anything conclusive, sometimes it felt like my parents had just vanished into thin air, like they were stuck in the gray, somewhere between the living and dead.
Who could have sent that email other than my mother? I was the only one who knew her password for her business email other than my father, but Cecilia would know it if my father knew it. But that was ridiculous she said she had gone down to the store but she couldn't get in because it was locked. And when I went down to the store yesterday, the lock was untarnished. But she could have gone down the day before yesterday again and used a lock pick or something.
I felt an uncomfortable vine of dread planting itself in my brain. How much could I really trust Cecilia? She had me arrested instead of telling me to play along, she claimed she was busy looking after her kids but told me she'd been sitting around all afternoon for my call, and finally she'd just received an estate that was worth well over a million dollars and decided to keep me in the dark.
Why was she cc-ed? If she was dead there was no reason to send it to her, and the only reason the property would be transferred is if she were. But she had sent her approval or someone had, which meant it was necessary which meant she could very well be alive.
I looked up the lawyer who sent the original email but it was unfamiliar and certainly not the person who generally handled my mother's business.
Even more curious.
I googled the man but aside from a few wealthy clients who had praised his work in the news and a penchant for handling medical suits I found very little. I did find his resume, which boasted and incredibly list of schools, which he had attended, as well as a series of awards. Whoever he was, his credentials were outstanding. Which meant he didn't come cheap so whoever hired him must be wealthy.
I decided to let go of that particular lead for the moment and pick up on my second one.
Searching Cullen was fruitless, there were hundreds of hits, however on a whim I decided to look up the hospitals in Seattle. There were two that caught my eye.
One was located on Cullen Boulevard and the second bore Cullen in the name of one of its wings.
The hospital on Cullen street had no further affiliation with the it. The street appeared to have been named after a Daniel Cullen who passed away in 1972 who had made generous contributions to the state. The hospital was constructed nearly two years later. Seemed like a dead end.
Door number two was more fruitful. A man who donated several million dollars to have the cardiac wing re-modeled bequeathed the Cullen name to the hospital. I found the hospital's website and looked over pictures of the wing which was impressive to say the least, surrounded in glass and complete with a dynamic, abstract structure that depicted the circulatory system within the atria of the heart in perfect detail.
Impressed, I looked for more information on the Cullen that was so generous but there wasn't even a first name. The artist however had left not only their name but also a phone number.
It was designed by an M.A. Brandon.
I called the number and waited with baited breath as light, feminine voice answered.
"Hello, this is Alice."
"Hi," The word came out shaky and I cleared my throat.
"Who is this?" She inquired and I almost didn't want to speak just to hear her voice again, it was impossibly musical.
"This is-this is Kim." I decided my first name was enough at this point. "I saw that you designed the structure outside the Cullen Cardiac Wing in Seattle?"
"Yes."
"I'm studying to be an artist and I was incredibly impressed."
"Thank you, Kim. That's very kind of you." She was polite but I could tell she knew I was calling for a different reason.
"I was wondering if you could tell me who hired you?"
"Certainly, I was hired by the hospital's board of directors."
"Oh, not the Cullen who the wing is named after?" I queried, trying my best to sound nonchalant. But she must have picked up on my curiosity because when she spoke again, her voice was just the slightest bit more clipped.
"No, I'm afraid not. If that's all, then I must go-"
"Wait!" I called, gripping the table light in emphasis but she had already hung up.
I let out a breath; well, time for a new strategy.
Looking up the hospital's phone number I dialed and was put through after a few minutes to a bored secretary who was smacking her gum loudly and obnoxiously.
"Hi, is there a Dr. Cullen, I could speak to?" I asked, venturing a guess that anyone who donated that much to rebuild a hospital wing was either a patient or a doctor.
"No, I'm sorry, there is no Dr, Cullen working here." Smack. She sounded distracted.
"Can you check again, please?" I asked, trying my best not to sound irritated at her flippant attitude.
I heard the brief rustle of papers, before she responded again.
"I'm sorry, there's no one here by that name." She sounded even more bored than before.
"But there is a wing in your hospital named after a Cullen, correct?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Do you by any chance know the first name of the person who donated that wing?"
"I'm sorry, but that information is classified." I groaned in disappointment but then an idea struck me. It was a long shot but it was also all I had to go on.
"My name is Alice Brandon, I designed the structure outside, I just need to confirm the spelling of Dr. Cullen's name for a resume as well as his contact information."
"One moment." I heard a click before some banal advertisement came over as I was transferred.
"Hello, this is Francesca from Human Resources. How can I help you?"
"Hi Francesca, my name is Alice Brandon." I tried my best to impersonate the dainty soprano but I knew it was a mediocre impression at best.
"Alice! How wonderful to hear from you! We've had so many compliments about your work."
"Thank you. You are very kind." I parroted, easily responding with exactly what Alice had said to me earlier.
"Can I just ask if you can spell Dr. Cullen's first name for me? It's for my resume."
"Oh, I'm sorry Alice, Dr. Cullen specifically asked that his first name be kept private in all documentation."
"Well, Francesca, to be honest, the real reason I'm asking is a bit embarrasing. I wanted to send him an email to ask for a letter of recommendation for an internship but I can't for the life of me remember how to spell it and I would hate to get it wrong."
There was a pause and but then to my relief I heard her clicking away on her computer. A chuckle came over after.
"I'm surprised you couldn't sound this one out." She responded before spelling it out obediently.
We hung up soon after I'd thanked her.
Dr. Carlisle Cullen, you're not as hard to find as you might think.
I googled his name and I felt a feeling of intense anxiety come over me. There was a Dr. Carlisle Cullen who worked for the Forks General Hospital.
I was so close. The surge of hope that followed was so incredibly strong. I was about to find out where my parents were, I was sure of it. This Dr. Cullen, whoever he was, was one of the last people to see my parents. And if anything, he'd know if they were alive.
I set up an appointment. The office told me that he was booked until Friday and but I took it. I asked what the likelihood of catching him for a quick question as a walk-in was but the nurse just laughed.
I took that as a negative.
I felt my high sinking at this, but I tried my best to ignore that; after all I had the appointment and I was going to find out, even if I did have to wait a week.
The bell above the door tinkled again and I looked up and to my surprise Jared walked in, Nina in tow.
She looked over and saw me and offered me a tentative smile. She pushed Jared and walked him to the other end of the counter, furthest from me.
I almost laughed at this, it was incredibly juvenile but clearly Nina didn't trust me as much as she claimed to yesterday. I let it go to the back of my mind, at least now I wouldn't have to come up with some bogus explanation to give Jared.
But as luck would have it, the woman at the table in front of me knocked her glass to the floor, drawing everyone's attention to her and consequently, Jared's gaze landed on me.
I tossed him a little wave and he bent to whisper something to Nina, who looked displeased but resigned, before heading over.
I shut my computer quickly, just as he fluidly fell into the seat across from me.
He was wearing a dark blue polo today, which fit snugly against his torso, with a black thermal underneath.
"Hey Kim." He grinned, his voice playful. Someone was in a good mood. It was certainly infectious.
"Hey Jared." I responded, amused.
"Is that your Mac?" He asked and without preamble tugged it towards him. He started to open it but I quickly slid my hand over and pushed firmly down on the lid.
"Yes." I drew it back to me and he shot me a confused glance before smirking.
"Porn?" I shook my head at his antics, but his smile was so wonderfully compelling that I couldn't help but laugh.
"Naturally." I deadpanned and he laughed. I could have listened to it all day, it was one of those laughs that was loud, but not too loud and had just the right depth to it.
"What are you two doing today?" I asked, tilting my head back in Nina's general direction.
"Not too much, Nina wanted coffee. I have some errands to run later."
"Nothing for you?"
"I don't actually like coffee." I looked at him curiously but he just shrugged.
"Oh." I cast about for something else to say.
"Kim?" I looked up at him, pleased that I didn't have to think of something.
"Jared?" I questioned back.
"Where's my explanation?"
I halted at that before glancing behind me, but Nina was absently tapping the counter, her gaze directed at the man who was making her coffee.
Jared must have read into the poorly disguised gesture because he laughed.
"Scared of Nina?"
"Uh, yes?" I hedged sarcastically, relieved that he was buying this. But apparently Jared's mind was more focused than I thought
"Listen, I have to take mom to the hospital later, but how about I swing by your place after and you tell me what's going on." He offered, smiling persuasively but it was lost on me as I zeroed on the word hospital.
"Is she okay?" I asked.
"Yeah, fine, why?" He ran a hand through his hair, which distracted me momentarily but I quickly snapped my attention back to him.
"Just wondering why you were taking her."
"Oh, she doesn't like driving on the highway."
"Where are you going?" My interest peaked, but I tried to make my questions come out as nonchalantly as possible. He looked at me for a moment but seemed to decide it was harmless enough.
"Forks General." I couldn't believe my luck, maybe he knew Dr. Cullen.
"Have you ever met a Dr. Cullen there?"
He nodded before raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, he's been mom's cardiologist for a few years." He looked expectant. I rushed forward; spewing out lies almost faster than I could make them up. I briefly considered the irony in the fact that I called Jared my friend just yesterday and yet nearly our entire relationship was based on lies. However, it couldn't be helped, it's not like I could just come out and tell him that my parents had been kidnapped and possibly murdered and I was hunting down their captor on my own. Besides some of this was true, it was almost like improvement.
"Alice Brandon designed a sculpture for the wing of a hospital he donated money to and I was hoping I could get in some face time with her."
"So your taking advantage of my mother's heart condition for your own personal gain?" He asked, his face stony and I faltered. I felt a chill run through me, it sounded terrible when you put it like that. I hastily started to apologize but he started smirking wickedly part way through.
"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Kim?" His voice didn't seem upset but I proceeded cautiously anyway.
"Thanks..?" He looked at me in surprise at hesitance in my voice and his gaze softened a little.
"Calm down, I was just kidding. I guess it'd be cool if you came. But just to warn you, these appointments tend to take a while."
"Tell you what, you let me come along and introduce me to Dr. Cullen and I promise to explain everything while we're in the waiting room."
He mulled it over for a second before grinning.
"Deal." He held out his hand and I shook it as quickly as possible, glancing back nervously at Nina. She was thankfully otherwise occupied, her hand pressed against the bartender's arm as she leaned forward coquettishly. I looked at Jared but he seemed completely relaxed.
Maybe he hadn't noticed.
"Is it cool if you meet me there? Say four?" I nodded and he got up. I sat on my hands quickly to prevent me from doing something ridiculous like grabbing the hand that was just under a foot away so he'd stay.
He looked up at Nina who was still entwined around the bartender and he grimaced. I tried to ignore it. It wasn't my business.
"I've gotta go extract my girlfriend from that dude over there, but I'll see you later Kim." Apparently he was against pretense of any sort. I gave him an apologetic look, unsure of what I could say but he laughed it off.
I watched him walk over and Nina drop the barista's arm instantly. Jared slung an arm easily around her waist and I saw the guy behind the counter take a few steps back. He looked slightly frightened. I considered Jared's height and while he wasn't exceedingly muscled or anything, he had some serious glare power going for him and the look he just shot that guy didn't look like much fun.
I shrunk back a little, remembering when just yesterday I'd been on the receiving end of one of those and shivered.
Jared wasn't one to get upset, I was weaving a dangerous web with all my lies and if he found out about them the wrong way...well I'd just have to be exceedingly careful, that was all. He wasn't going to find out.
I watched them walk out of the store and I saw Jared look over his shoulder at me, giving me a nod and I smiled back. His eyes glittered under the lights. He was like a wolf, I thought to myself: all emphatic eyes and supple strength, but feral the instant his territory was threatened.
I didn't realize how close that observation was until much, much later.
But right then, all I did was watch him walk out, his gait purposeful. A wicked sort of smile crossed my face, as I leaned back in my chair, my eyes trained on him.
Suddenly, the view from where I sat didn't seem so bad after all.