Blackberry Winter: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

walked out the door, sinking my feet into a good three inches of snow. My toes instantly felt the cold.
Why didn’t I wear wool socks?
The streets were vacant except for a group of young boys hard at work on a snowman.
Will Café Lavanto be open?
I hated the thought of hiking up several hilly blocks to my favorite café, but hot cocoa smothered in whipped cream would be worth the effort, I reasoned. Besides, I didn’t feel like going into the office just yet, and I could pass the trip off as research. Storm-story research.
    Twenty minutes later, when I found the door to the café locked, I cursed my decision, and my boots, which were sopping wet and on the verge of freezing my feet into two boot-shaped blocks of ice.
    “Claire?”
    I turned to see Dominic, Café Lavanto’s owner, walking toward me. Tall with sandy brown hair and a kind smile, he had always struck me as out of place behind the coffee counter. It was one of those pairings that didn’t quite add up, like my college English lit professor who’d moonlighted as a tattoo artist.
    “Thank goodness,” I said, leaning against the doors. “I made the mistake of walking up here in these.” I pointed to my shoes. “And now I’m afraid my toes are too frozen to get back down. Mind if I defrost in here for a bit?” I regarded the quiet storefronts, which would normally be buzzing with people by this hour of the morning. “I guess I didn’t expect the city to completely shut down.”
    “You know Seattle,” Dominic said with a grin. “A few flakesand it’s mass pandemonium.” He reached into a black leather messenger bag to retrieve the key to the café. “I’m the only one who could make it in. The buses aren’t running and cars are skidding out all over the place. Did you see the pileup on Second Avenue?”
    I shook my head and thought of Ethan.
    He pushed the key into the lock. “Come in, let’s get you warmed up.”
    “Thank goodness you’re open,” I said, following him inside. “Seattle’s a ghost town right now.”
    He shook his head, locking the door from the inside. “No, I don’t think I’ll open today. I could use a day off, anyway. But someone had to check on Pascal.”
    “Pascal?”
    “The cat,” he said.
    “You mean, I’ve been coming here for six years and didn’t know about the resident feline?”
    Dominic grinned. “He’s a grumpy old man. But he has a thing for brunettes.”
    I felt my cheeks tingle as they began to defrost in the warmth of the café.
    “He spends most of his time upstairs in the loft, anyway,” he continued.
    “The loft?”
    “It’s not much, just a storeroom where we keep supplies. Mario, the former owner, kept his desk up there. I’m thinking about turning it into a studio apartment—live above the shop.”
    “Sounds like a nice life,” I said, detecting the vibration of my cell phone inside my purse. I ignored it. “So I hear you recently bought the café, is that right?
    Dominic nodded. “I did. And I’ll be in debt until I’m onehundred and five. The gamble is worth it, though. I love the old place. I’m going to be making some changes, though. Starting with a real awning, a lunch menu. And a new name.”
    “Oh? What’s wrong with Café Lavanto?”
    “Nothing, really,” he said. “It’s just that it has no ties to here—to history.”
    “And you’d change it to…?”
    He poured milk into a steel pitcher and inched it under the espresso machine’s frother wand. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe you can help me think of something good.” He winked. “You’re a writer, aren’t you? A wordsmith?” Bubbles erupted in the pitcher as the steam hissed.
    “You remember?”
    “Sure. The
Herald
, right?”
    “That’s right. But if you ask my mother, who sent me through four years of Yale expecting me to emerge as a staff editor at
The New Yorker
, I’m a hack.” I rubbed my hands together to warm them.
    “Oh, come on,” Dominic said, grinning. “Don’t you think