Dancing on a Moonbeam (Bedford Falls Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

lightly as he entered.
    The woman behind the counter looked up with a warm, if curious, smile. He gave her "Walking on Sunshine" for a theme song. If he had to guess, he'd have said she was in her late forties because of her radiant face and golden hair pulled back into a spunky ponytail. She wore worn jeans with a white dress shirt that hung past her hips. White was the last color Max would wear if he worked around food, but her shirt was pristine.
    "The muffins are fresh out of the oven," she said as a greeting. "Get the apple carrot. It's my favorite."
    He didn't eat muffins. "I came in for a coffee."
    "Of course you did. I have the best coffee in town." She turned and pushed the button on a grinder, filling an espresso machine basket with grounds with chemist-like precision. "Coffee and muffins go hand-in-hand."
    He watched her set a paper cup under the espresso spout to catch the dark liquid before she efficiently steamed milk. She hunched over, her backside wiggling before she turned and set the cup in front of him. "Wait a sec and I'll get your muffin."
    He didn't want a cappuccino—he wanted a black coffee, the kind that'd strip paint. He stared at the graceful swan she'd designed in the foam, at a loss.
    "Here you go." She handed him a little white bag. "On the house, because this is your first time in here."
    Not knowing what to do, he took it and the milky beverage. "How do you know that?"
    "I remember everyone." She smiled kindly at him. "Try it. It may be just what you need."
    He guessed anything was better than nothing, so he nodded and mumbled "Thank you" as he walked out of the café.
    He'd intended to go directly to Liam's house, but he found himself walking to that bench in the center of the green to sit down.
    Sighing, he steeled himself as he took a sip of the cappuccino. He blinked, and then took another sip. It was creamy, yes, but underneath it was dark and rich and smooth. Surprised at how good it was, he carefully had some more, looking at the white bag.
    Why not? He opened it and took a bite of the muffin.
    It was one of the most delicious things he'd ever eaten. He devoured it, and then wondered if he should go back for another.
    But his phone rang, and it was his dad so he answered it. "I listened to your composition," Leo said.
    "And?" Max asked, feeling his shoulders tense.
    "If someone else had written it, I'd have said it was excellent," his dad said.  
    "But because I wrote it?"
    His dad hesitated. "You don't want me to sugarcoat it, do you?"
    He winced. "It's that bad?"
    "Not at all. Like I said, it'd be excellent if it were by anyone else. But it's by you, and I know what you're capable of, and this isn't it."
    "What is it?"  
    "Safe," his dad declared.  
    He ran a hand over his head. "So I really do have to rewrite it all?"
    "Not at all." There was the sound of pages flipping. "I made a few notes. I can read them to you or have Stella take pictures and text them."
    Leo Massimo left modern technology up to his wife. Max smiled ruefully. "Just give me the general gist of your critique."
    "It's lacking heart," his dad said. "You need to add some emotion and movement to it. What are you feeling?"
    "Right now? Frustrated."  
    "Then write it into your composition. You can do it, son. You're like your father."
    That made him smile. "Modestly speaking?"
    "Of course. Call your mother, she worries about you. Love you, son," Leo said before he hung up.
    Smiling, he put his phone away. His dad's comments should have stung, but more than anything they gave him hope. He could add more movement and emotion to the music—it gave him a direction to take.  
    The sharp cawing of Northern American teenagers distracted him from his thoughts.  
    Glancing to the left, he winced when he saw the gaggle of girls headed his way. It was a relief when they broke off—all except one, who kept walking in his direction.
    He didn't find kids foreign the way a lot of the people who worked around him did. He supposed