Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop
It was Saturday and Kate was doing something that only happened once in a blue moon: sleeping in. She had curled up under all of her blankets, tugging the comforter over her head, and blocked out the sunlight that peeked through the blinds.
There was no muffled sound of Al waking up coming through the layers of blankets. Another wonder.
And she had the entire day off to just sleep. Sleep and eat and maybe read for a little while all in the comfort of her own apartment in her pajamas with her phone on silent.
"Mom! Mom, wake up!"
The girl hit her side as she leapt onto the bed, sitting on her stomach and pulling the blankets down from over her face.
Al was wide awake. Not groggy having just rolled out of bed, but going full-tilt. All without the help of breakfast which Kate needed in order to feel truly awake. Al needed none of it.
Keep your eyes closed and your breathing steady, Kate told herself. She might go away. Then she wondered how she had missed the sounds of her daughter waking up in the first place.
Al wasn't going to leave. Next thing she knew, the girl was burrowed down in the sheets next to her, pressing her cold feet to Kate's thigh just as she framed Kate's face with equally chilly hands.
Kate yelped, wiggling away from the girl. "Al!" she managed as her daughter squirmed closer even as Kate retreated across the bed. Summoning all of her composure, Kate put on her best Mom look and leveled the glance at Al. "Alexandra Beckett, quit it ri-" was as far as she got before the mattress ended.
Determined not to go down alone, Kate wrapped her arms around Al just as she toppled off the bed, landing on the part of the comforter that slid to the ground. Al was giggling wildly on top of her, her cheek pressed to Kate's shoulder.
"Mom, we fell," was audible between bursts of laughter.
"We did. Whose fault is that?" Kate asked, running a hand over Al's now-tangled hair.
The girl turned her face and buried her nose into Kate's collarbone. "Yours."
"Oh really?" Without warning, Kate flipped them over and tickled Al's sides, right under her ribs where Kate knew she was the most ticklish.
The shrieking increased tenfold as did the twisting to get free. Kate wasn't having any of it as she blew a raspberry on Al's stomach and pulled away before the girl could grab her hair.
"Whose fault was it?" she asked again, her fingers dancing over Al's sides as a warning even as the girl had her eyes clenched shut.
"Mine, Mom. Stop tickling!"
Kate got up, untangling her feet from the comforter and sheets they had brought with them to the floor, then swung Al up so she was standing. "Awake now?"
Al pushed her hair back from her face, trying to glare but failing. "Yes!" She took a deep breath, steadying herself after the tickle attack, and trying to remember exactly why she had taken the risk of waking her mother up so early. Oh yes. "Mom!"
"Yes, kid?" Kate called back, going to brush her teeth and comb her hair into a semblance of order after the fight.
"It's been a week." Al followed Kate into the bathroom, taking down the spare brush and pulling it over her own curls.
"A week since what?"
A glance down showed her that Al had indeed inherited the ability to raise her brow and look disapproving without practice. "I wanna see Rick again."
Richard Castle. Kate had hoped the girl would have forgotten about the encounter and the promise of maybe seeing the man again. Obviously not. She wasn't exactly surprised since Al had a startling ability to remember things when it worked in her favor. "Rick who?" Kate asked, separating her hair into three sections and braiding it, walking back into the bedroom to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Rick the nice man from the coffee place."
"Ohhh. That Rick. Well…" Al was smiling expectantly. Lanie had told her to wait a week and go back. Maybe he wouldn't be there and then they could go shopping or something instead of spending the morning talking to a bestseller like it was a completely normal experience for them. "Maybe if we get dressed, we can go to the coffee shop and see if he's around."
Al was gone from the room in an instant, bounding off toward her room to get changed. "Yes!"
Kate figured this meant she needed to get into real clothes instead of her pajamas like she had planned to spend the entire day. Next day off, there would be no coffee shops or trips outside of any kind; just the couch and a good book.
They met in the living room, Al struggling with her sneakers' laces and waving Kate's help off with a muttered "I got it." So Kate slipped her feet into a pair of ballet flats, wrapping her scarf around her neck an extra time before pulling on her coat.
The bows on Al's shoes were an interesting shape and Kate suspected that they'd be untied by the time they reached the lobby of the building, but the girl was happy and was already buttoning up her coat when Kate turned around from getting her phone from the charger.
"Let's go, Mom!"
Kate let herself be led from the apartment by Al's hand, stopping her to lock the door, before going down the stairs and finding a taxi to bring them to the coffee shop. The entire time, she had her fingers crossed in her pocket, hoping he wouldn't be there at the same time as she prayed he would.
Castle was sure that he needed a drink. A glance at the clock told him it was only eight o'clock in the morning, but the urge to hide in his study with a bottle of aged whiskey was overwhelming.
"Richard, I just don't understand why she has to stay here."
The sound of her voice was starting to grate on him as he poured out coffee and had to stop his hand from reaching for the liquor cabinet to make the drink a little more effective. Instead, he turned and leaned back against the counter, taking a long sip from the mug.
Meredith was perched on one of the bar stools at the island, a glass of orange juice sitting at her elbow as she nibbled on a piece of toast sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. Even in the early hour, her hair was done in a pretty up-do, a few red-gold wisps falling onto her cheeks. Her make-up was applied almost as soon as she was awake and Castle was still sure that some pixies did it for her while she slept. Even in the chill of February, Meredith was wearing a sleeveless black sheath dress, her white cardigan tossed over her shoulders.
Pretty in the morning light, Castle had to think even as he worked to hold back the need to scream a little.
"Her husband took all of her money. He left her. Alone. Without anything." He paused after each statement, hoping that it would emphasize the magnitude of what had happened to his mother.
She didn't seem to get it. "Yes, but aren't there other places she could stay? Hotels, friends' houses?" Meredith took a bite of her toast, brushing the crumbs onto the plate as she raised a brow across the kitchen at him.
The same argument they'd been having for the past week. He didn't understand what Meredith had against his mother but for some reason, she had made it her mission to get Martha out of the guest room upstairs and back on her own. Castle had blocked every try, insisting that if his mother wanted to stay in the loft until she got onto her feet again, she was welcome.
"Yes, but she's staying here. If she wants to move to the Plaza, I'll help her do that. If she wants to move to a SRO tomorrow in Harlem, I'll carry her things over." He pushed off from the counter, placing his coffee mug on the polished surface as he dug in the fruit bowl for an apple. He pulled out a knife from another drawer and started cutting the fruit into wedges. "But for now, here is where Mother wants to be so here she will stay until her plans change."
Meredith rolled her eyes, running a finger over the lip of the glass. "But Richard…"
The knife hit the counter with a sharp snap, one that had her blue eyes jumping up to his in surprise.
"No." Castle gathered up the apple wedges and his coffee. "She's staying."
He didn't trust himself to be in the room and not say something he'd regret later. Silently, he carted the items into the study and kicked the door closed with his foot.
The clothesline behind his desk had the short story for the anthology hanging, page by page, from it. He had finished it a few days ago, getting Marlowe out of his system so he could focus on writing a few chapters of Nicole's story and bringing that to Paula to propose to Black Pawn. He hadn't done much work on her, lately, wanting to learn more about her inspiration before digging himself too deep.
Castle didn't sit at the desk or go to look at the SmartBoard page he had started for Nicole. He went to the bedroom, eating another slice of apple as he closed that door as well, making it abundantly clear to Meredith that he wanted to be alone. Instead of moping, he changed out of his sweatpants and white v-neck into jeans and a dark blue shirt unbuttoned over a grey t-shirt, pulling on sneakers before picking up the coffee again and downing it.
Out. He needed to get out for a while.
He hesitated in the study, looking at his laptop. He could write, clear his mind. Sometimes writing it all down, making sense of his emotions, helped. But toting the laptop and charger would take time that he didn't want to waste. Castle rummaged in one of the drawers and found a still-empty notebook. Perfect. He tucked a few pens and a pencil into his pocket and grabbed his phone.
Meredith was still at the kitchen island, a magazine open on the surface next to her as she flipped through the pages. She looked back when the study door clicked open but tried to disguise the motion as a hair-tuck.
"I'm going out for a while. I have my phone," he said, not giving her a choice in stopping him.
But once he was in the elevator, he had no idea where to go.
The coffee shop. It would be relatively quiet and he could get some plotting done if anything. Even though Kate and Al hadn't reappeared in the past week, he was holding onto a last thread of hope that he hadn't frightened the woman off. The girl had seemed friendly enough but throughout the entire exchange, Kate had been masking her suspicion with kindness. Castle couldn't really blame her; he was a stranger that was being overly nice to them and she was a cop, one that lived on the edge of danger and knowing what strangers could do to one another.
But still, he wanted to see them again. It was more than just doing some character research for Nicole. The woman herself interested him. He wanted to know her story, her daughter's story, for more than a book. He wanted to know for the sake of knowing.
And the first step was meeting them again.
So he grabbed a cab and ran his thumb along the edge of the Moleskin notebook, as he hoped that this time, his hours spent sitting at that table in the coffee shop wouldn't be wasted by staring at the door and waiting for Kate and Al Beckett to walk through it.