The Normal Kind of Crazy (Crazy #1) Read online

  Published by L.J. Voss

  Copyright © 2015 L.J. Voss

  Editing by Sara Tharen

  Photography by Ashlee Brook Photography

  Model: Megan Van Leeuwen

  Pig: Pampered Piglets

  Cover Design by Bearhive

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication, may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarks status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by trademark owners.

  To my favorite boys, Thanks for putting up with and loving my crazy.

  Prologue

  Twenty eight years ago….

  - June Nelson -

  I noticed her walk in a few minutes ago. She looks about eight months pregnant with eyes brimming with tears. Her wavy blonde hair is down and her skin has a slight pinkish tan. Julie heads to her table to grab her order. After looking in her wallet all she orders is water and a side of fries. That’s not nearly enough food for a grown woman let alone one who is pregnant.

  I head to the kitchen and tell my cook to make an extra cheeseburger. When her order is up I grab her fries, cheeseburger, and then head to her table. Her head doesn’t lift as I set the plates down. In fact she doesn’t acknowledge my presence at all, she is dazing off in the distance as she rolls her bottom lip between teeth worriedly. Breaking the silence I interject, “Everything all right, hon?”

  Her eyes blink a few times before she lifts her head to me and answers, “Thank you.” She sees the cheeseburger and panicked confusion fills her voice, “I didn’t, that isn’t mine, I only ordered the fries.”

  “It’s on the house,” I respond.

  “Oh no, I couldn’t. I’m fine. The fries are enough, really,” she protests.

  “I won’t take no for an answer. If I have to, I’ll stand here until you finish it.”

  That earns a smile from her as she says, “Thank you, it means more than you know.”

  Not one to beat around the bush I ask, “So are you passing through? Staying?”

  Her eyes fill with tears as she fiddles with the fry in her fingers. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing, where I’m going.”

  I pull out the other chair at her table and sit down next to her. “Well, let’s start with where you’re from.”

  “Boston.”

  “Any family?”

  She seems to think about it, “No. No family.”

  Not wanting to pry too much too soon I drop that line of questioning. “Well, if you want to stay, you can stay with me. I’ll give you a job here so you can earn some money before the baby comes and then you can come back after the baby. I’m a widow so it’s just me.”

  She shakes her head in protest, “No. I really can’t let you do that. You’ve already been too nice to me.”

  “Nonsense. I need some help around here and good help is hard to come by. So really you’ll be doing me a favor. There’s an apartment upstairs that you can stay in. We’ll need to do some fixing up before you move in.” I see her start to try to refuse again so I continue, “I’m not going to let you say no. I can and want to help. When the time comes, if you still feel it’s necessary, we can work out some sort of rent agreement. You look close to having that baby and you don’t want to be living in your car when you do.”

  She wraps her arms around me as she starts crying, “Thank you. Thank you so much. You must be my guardian angel.”

  I pat her on the back, “Why don’t you hang out here for the rest of the afternoon? I can show you around and you can get a lay of the land. Then we can head to my place and get you settled. I’m June, by the way. June Nelson.”

  Straightening she says, “I’m Delilah Jones.”

  I leave her to finish her cheeseburger and go and call Mabel. When she answers I tell her about Delilah and the baby. Mabel being Mabel, she immediately asks what they need and if there is anything she can do. I assure her I will let her know more when I know more. Knowing her she’s probably rushing out to get stuff anyway.

  The rest of the day goes by pretty fast. I show Delilah around the kitchen and office and then leave her to shadow Julie. Later we sit and eat some dinner together. She opens up a little bit more about herself. She is twenty-three. Her mother is a drunk who has no idea who her father is. She left home at sixteen and worked at a diner along a beach in Boston. When the conversation turns to the father of the baby she gets quiet and doesn’t go into much detail. They met during the summer and had a short whirlwind romance. At the end of the summer they both knew that it was a summer thing and nothing more. When she found out she was pregnant she decided there was nothing holding her in Boston and she had always wanted to see New Orleans. She packed up and drove down there. After staying a few months, she realized she didn’t want to raise her daughter there. Liking the area, she drove around to the surrounding cities but none of them felt right. She stopped here and didn’t have a plan past that. Almost out of money and finding no one wanting to hire a woman eight months pregnant, she had no idea what to do. She decided to stop here and get something to eat and then she met me.

  Right now she is following me home. I told her about Mabel, and that we would be meeting her for lunch tomorrow. She’ll like Mabel. They’re two birds of a feather. They’re both reserved and soft-spoken, compassionate and kind. I’m more eccentric and adventurous. It’s good that Mabel and I have each other. I help bring her out of her shell and keep her on her toes and she helps keep me in line.

  Delilah doesn’t have much, only a duffle bag and two boxes in her trunk. I grab her few belongings and make my way to the door. Following me, she stops when she notices my garden. I explain, “They’re shrunken heads.” At the lifting of her eyebrows, I add, “I like them. Regular gardens can be boring. What’s more fun than looking at some flowers and suddenly seeing a shrunken head mixed in? It’s also fun to see the neighbors’ reactions.” She follows me inside and upstairs to the guest bedroom. Setting her boxes down I tell her, “Make yourself at home. Are you up for a tour? I can show you around tomorrow if you want to rest.”

  “Maybe tomorrow. I’m a little tired. Thank you again. You’ll never know what this means to me.”

  “It means a lot to me, too. Richard and I were never blessed with children. Since he passed it’s been a little lonely in this house all by myself. I had Charles for a little while but then he passed away. It’ll be nice to have someone around.”

  I notice her start to open her boxes and see a collection of mismatched vintage teacups. “What are those?”

  She blushes a little as she tells me, “I’ve never had the money for nice things. My shopping consists of what I find at the thrift store. These always catch my eye. Something this beautiful shouldn’t be mixed in with junk. They deserve a home. I guess I kind of feel a little like them. People pass them by and never see how beautiful they are. They don’t see their worth since they don’t come in a complete set. My own mother never saw my worth.” She gives me a sad smile as she looks up at me, “Silly, I know.”

  Not wanting to overstay my welcome I walk out the door and just before I close it I add, “Good-night, Delilah.
”

  Eight years later….

  I enter the cold sterile hospital room. Tears are already springing from my eyes. I’m glad Mabel is here with Imogen. I don’t want her to see or hear what we are going to be talking about. She’s old enough to understand what is happening but young enough to not need to hear the specifics.

  Delilah manages to give me a weak smile. I sit on the edge of her bed and take her feeble hand in mine. “Hi, sweetie.”

  “June, did you get the papers?” she asks as urgently as she can muster.

  “The lawyer brought them over this morning. I’ve signed them and everything is in order,” I assure her.

  Relief washes over her face. There is a new aura of peacefulness surrounding her. I gently squeeze her hand. “I’ll take good care of her, Deli. She won’t forget you.” I choke on a sob.

  In the last eight years, Delilah has become the daughter I never had. Ever since that first night we met we’ve been there for each other. I was there when she had Imogen and gave her my middle name, Cordelia. When she got sick a few months ago neither of us imagined that it would be cancer and that it would be as aggressive as it was. With a prognosis that wasn’t promising and chemotherapy only delaying the inevitable, she made the decision to enjoy that last few months she had. Mabel and I took her and Imogen to the beach and to Disney World. But in the last couple weeks things have taken a turn and we knew that the end of her struggles was coming.

  She asked me to take over guardianship of Imogen when she first got sick. I agreed without hesitation. That little girl has become the center of my world. She’s smart and funny and gets her sass from me. My heart hurts to think that she won’t have her mother here to help raise her.

  Guessing where my thoughts are going Delilah says, “She’s lucky to have you, June. She’ll be so loved. Between you and Mabel, she’ll have everything she ever needs. You never hope that someone else will raise your child, but I couldn’t have picked better people. With you, Mabel, and Imogen, I found my complete set. Even if I could live a thousand lives I would never be able to tell or show you enough how much you mean to me. I love you.”

  “I love you too, sweetie. You and that little girl are my world and I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve given me.” I give her a gentle hug and we both cry as we hold onto each other. There isn’t any way you can prepare to say good-bye to someone you love. I want her suffering to end and for her to be at peace but I’m not prepared for it and it doesn’t make it any easier.

  A gentle knock at the door followed by Mabel poking her head inside signals she’s brought Imogen to come and say good-bye. Imogen follows Mabel into the room with her little head cast down. As soon as she sees her mom she comes running and climbs up the bed. She cuddles her mother’s side, buries her head into her shoulder, and then starts to cry. Delilah wraps her arms around her tiny daughter and holds her through her tears. She runs her hand down her hair, comforting her. Pressing small kisses to the top of her head, Delilah looks to be trying to memorize every detail about her daughter.

  Not wanting to intrude on their emotional goodbye, I motion to Mabel and we move away towards the door to give them some privacy. Although I’m trying not to eavesdrop, I can still hear bits and pieces of what is being said. I hear when Delilah gives the necklace she had made to Imogen. Before she got sick we would have contests on who could find the most wish puffs. Then we would grab them all together, make our wishes, and blow as hard as we could. Millions of little dandelion seeds would go flying into the air, dancing on the wind in every direction. When we realized how serious the cancer was Delilah had a single seed pressed between two pieces of glass and made into a pendant. She tells Imogen that her only wish was that she could stay here with her but she is too sick and she isn’t able to. She explains to Imogen that this necklace is special. Anytime she is missing her, she can rub it and know that wherever her mom is, she is thinking about her and loving her. I chance a glance at them and see Imogen’s small head bob up and down in acknowledgement. My eyes shift to Delilah and I see the tears running down her cheek.

  I turn away again until I can hear they are done. Imogen climbs off the bed and comes over to us, her little hand clasped around her necklace. Mabel takes her other hand and asks if she wants some ice cream as she leads her out of the room. I can’t stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks. Delilah’s eyes catch mine and there’s nothing and everything left to be said. I wrap her in my arms and whisper into her ear, “It’s okay, Deli. You can rest now. It’s okay to go. I love you, sweetie.”

  I hear the monitor signal that her heart has stopped beating. Nurses come in, followed by the doctor and I take one last second before I let her go. No attempts are made to try to bring her back. She was very clear about wanting a do not resuscitate order in place. I wipe the tears from my eyes and look at her one last time as the nurses and doctor call her time of death and start unhooking her from the machines.

  The lights in the hall are blinding as I go to find the little girl whose life will never be the same. With each step, I promise to make Delilah proud and to never let Imogen forget her.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Present Day

  -Imogen-

  “Gahhhh,” I growl as I slam the lid on the espresso machine. I have Rice’s number halfway typed in my phone as I make my way to my office. This is the perfect start to my Thursday. I’m shoving papers out of the way when he answers.

  “Again, Sweets?”

  Just his voice sends shivers down my body and butterflies to my stomach. “Please? You know I open in an hour.”

  “I’m already on my way with your delivery. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “I beyond owe you! I have a Gouda and ham croissant waiting with your name on it.”

  Looking around my mess of an office, I set my phone down. That stupid espresso machine will be the death of me. If profits keep going like they have been I should be able to replace it in about a year. I just have to keep it going until then. June would give me the money if she knew I needed it, but there’s no way I’m going to let her do that. Thinking of June reminds me of her contest tomorrow. I chuckle as I think how Mabel is going to react when she gets up there. Only June would enter a swimsuit competition meant for women half her age. If she didn’t have Mabel to keep her in line, I can only imagine the kinds of trouble she would get into.

  She once tried to buy a huge box of condoms when I took her grocery shopping. She said it was because she wanted to see the look on Ol’ Bertie and her biddies’ faces as she walked back into the retirement home with them. Luckily, Mabel was able to talk her out of it and instead she bought a men’s fitness magazine with a half-naked guy on the front.

  I unlock the door to the café, head back to the kitchen, then take the Bundt cakes out of the oven and set them on the counter to cool. The Artful Blend is my baby. I was in a pretty bad place emotionally when I left college and came home seven years ago. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, I had gained 40 pounds, just been dumped by my boyfriend and was really depressed. June had already sold her house and had moved into the retirement home with Mabel, but let me stay with her for a couple of weeks before she kicked me out and said I needed my own place. Handing me the keys to this building and some startup money, she told me to follow my dreams.

  It was The Burger Hut when she and her first husband opened it. She closed it when my mom passed away so she could focus on raising me. She always said she was lucky to marry men who had made sure she was taken care of so she didn’t need the money. It kept her young and her mind sharp but with an eight year old to raise she didn’t need it anymore. So it sat empty and collecting dust ever since. She has had multiple offers throughout the years but never sold it. The idea of keeping it, just in case, always kept her turning down their offers. I decided on a pastry and coffee shop. Some of my favorite memories of my mom are when we would bake toget
her. Plus she loved coffee so just the smell reminds me of her. She would be proud of me if she could see it. It’s always busy here and it combines some of my favorite things: coffee, baked goods, and art.

  Remodeling the shop from a diner into my vision took some work. I love to get my hands dirty and loved doing a lot of the work myself. Luckily my best friend Kelly married a very handy contractor who agreed to help expose the old brick walls and wood beams in exchange for free coffee and treats for life. It was a bargain I couldn’t say no to, especially since he would get those anyway. It turned out to be exactly as I had imagined it. There are exposed brick walls, wood floors, and a huge chalk board wall behind the counter. It is in the middle of Main Street and a prime location. I would never be able to tell June thank you enough.

  Rice walks in as I’m setting the Bundt cake out on the display. He is the walking embodiment of what your mother warned you about, tall, at least 6’4”, with a body to die for and at least a few tattoos that I’ve managed to catch little glimpses of. Top that off with short brown waves I want to run my fingers through and a beard that would tickle in just the right places. My mind drifts back to that day about five months ago when he walked into the shop. He was just starting out his roasting company and wanted to have me try a sample. He said after I did, it would be impossible for me to not want to sell his coffee. I took one sip and he was right. His coffee is amazing and unrivalled. We’ve been in this tug of war limbo for months, neither one of us making a move, but there is something brewing between us. Today he is wearing a mint green Henley with the top button undone showing his olive skin with a sprinkling of chest hair sticking out and jeans that do glorious things to his…

  “My eyes are up here, cupcake,” he says through a smirk, “and, by the way you were looking at me, I’ll have to insist you buy me dinner first. I’m a lady.”

  Absolutely mortified that he caught me checking out his package, I manage to stammer, “Don’t flatter yourself, Rice, I zoned out while I was running through bills in my head,” as my whole face turns a bright shade of red. I’m not one of those lucky girls who can just have her cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. Nope, my whole face turns red like a tomato. Followed by my ears and my neck and then my chest is splotched with the same red color. He is still smirking at me as he takes my delivery to the back. His coffee is the best in the state which is why his is the only coffee I use here in the shop. People love it so much that I have to have him deliver three times a week instead of the usual once or twice. Not that I’m complaining, seeing him is more of a wake up than two shots of espresso.