One Little Thing by Kimberly Lang Page A

see if they’ll come in this afternoon? Maybe one at four and the other at five?”
    â€œThank you. Now I won’t have to poison your coffee today.”
    She grinned. “Then thank
you
.” A glance around told her the morning rush was officially over. “I’m going to run out for a while. I’ll be back before the Bible study group arrives.”
    â€œBring back change,” Jane called from behind her. “We’re low on fives and ones.”
    Molly nodded as she hung up her apron and then held the door for a mother pushing a stroller with a sleeping baby. Outside on the sidewalk, she took a big breath of non-coffee-scented air and turned her face up to the sun. Late spring was quite possibly one of the best times of year here weather-wise: warm days, and nights that were just cool enough to require a light jacket. But the frizzing of her already unruly curls meant summer—and its humidity—were right around the corner.
    It might be an odd little town, but there sure wasn’t a much prettier place than Magnolia Beach on a bright spring afternoon. The town was practically a movie set labeled “small-town Americana”—tidy buildings set along clean, narrow streets and flags waving lazily in the breeze. Even the newer buildings intentionally had that older aesthetic, giving the impression the town wasn’t necessarily stuck in the past, but instead rather gently resisting change wherever it could.
    That feeling was part of what drew tourists to the area. That, and the water, of course. Magnolia Beach was locked inon three sides by water: Mobile Bay to the east, Heron Bay to the south, and Heron Bayou to the west.
    The Yankee snowbirds had already left town for their northern cities and climes, but in a few more weeks the town’s population would nearly double in size as all that water drew folks down to the coast. The Mobile Bay shore—called “The Beach” by the locals—had white, sandy beaches, perfect for sandcastle building and walks along the water, while the Heron Bay shore—called “The Shore” to avoid confusion—offered fishing off the jetty and a boardwalk along the rockier, man-made beach. Add in a marina full of boats to charter, airboat tours into the bayou, and long, hot sunny days, and Magnolia Beach was a summer paradise.
    While the tourists looking for wild parties would head over to the east side of the bay to Gulf Shores and the Florida panhandle, families and those folks wanting a more low-key vacation would come to Magnolia Beach. And when they weren’t on the water, tourists had a full selection of restaurants, quaint shops, and family-friendly activities right at their doorstep.
    Trapped as it was between the water and unable to sprawl, the town was rather compact, making pretty much everything within walking distance. The tourists loved that perk, and Molly liked it herself, leaving her car at home except on the most miserable of days. And since she tended to nibble at the pastries—strictly for quality control purposes, of course—she needed all the exercise she could get. That would be another perk of a new employee: she could find the time to start running again before the winter weight became permanent.
    More importantly, though, she liked the walk. In the early mornings on her way to open Latte Dah, the whole place felt quiet and still, and that was better for clearing her mind and relaxing her soul than any kind of meditation. In the afternoons, the streets were busy and active, but not stressed and crowded, and there was always someone to stop and speak to, making her feel like a real part of the town. Making it feel like
home
.
    Only better. She had no desire to really go home.
    Fuller, Alabama, was only six hours away, but as far as she was concerned it might as well be on the other side of the planet. She was proud of what she’d built here, and the person she’d been just a