Laura Cate Collins

THE ROSE CAFE

In the town of Whiteford, there were no secrets. Or, if there were, no one was overwhelmingly curious to discover them. In fact, no one was particularly overwhelmingly curious about anything. But perhaps that was why Liz Applegate decided to move to Whiteford with her small daughter in the first place.

Whiteford was one of those towns where everyone knew each other’s name and children carelessly floated from yard to yard. A town where you couldn’t enter the post office without running into someone who is dying to talk to you about the newest piece of gossip that they gleaned fresh from the produce section of Mr. Reed’s Grocery only that morning. It was the kind of town that the teenagers couldn’t wait to escape from while the adults clucked their tongues, knowing that they would be back soon enough. The town was safe, small and quaint.

The Whiteford residents didn’t even notice the sudden disappearance of the “For Rent” sign in the window of the vacant Main Street shop. No one even noticed that the wooden “For Sale” sign in front of Number Seven, Green Meadow Lane had been removed. To the neighbors, it was still Mr. Jones’ house, even though the house had stood empty for three years following Mr. Jones moving to his daughter’s house in Florida. It took the sudden appearance of the unfamiliar woman with the black corkscrew curls in Mr. Reed’s Grocery and Howard’s Hardware Shop for the residents to realize there was someone new in town.

They were all determined to hate her before they even knew her name. As far as anyone was concerned, the newcomer had ruined the status quo. All those who lived on Green Meadow Lane grumbled about the moving truck and movers in their way—and right as it was time to pick up the kids from school, too! Some of the teachers at the elementary school felt pity on Miss Lane, the first grade teacher who now had to accommodate for one more six year old, and right in the middle of the year, too. Not even a prior warning until the little girl was ushered into the classroom by the principal’s very confused and annoyed secretary one morning in the middle of math. The teachers who didn’t feel pity for Miss Lane, a first year teacher, thought that she was getting just desserts for being too darn cheerful all the time.

But once Miss Liz opened the doors to the Rose Café, any animosities that had been held towards the Applegates were dropped at the smell of brewing coffee and freshly baked cookies. With its warm and cozy atmosphere, the Rose Café soon became a haven for everyone in Whiteford, whether they be a resident or visitor to the town. Miss Liz had, overnight, become one of their own, something that just hours before been proclaimed to never be possible. The wives and mothers soon found Miss Liz enjoyable to gossip with, the way she quickly learned names and never forgetting a detail of their lives. Jessica Applegate, though initially picked on by her classmates for her newness, was soon having playdates every afternoon and adored by the teachers for her cleverness.

Liz and Jess Applegate blended into Whiteford so easily and so quickly, it was hard to believe that they hadn’t lived there all along.

An unspoken rule regarding the Applegates was quickly developed, however: never ask about Jess’s father. The subject had only been brought up once, making Miss Liz’s ever present-smile momentarily disappear and she responded that they had moved to Whiteford for a fresh start. Even more, she refused to date, though several of her neighbors tried to set her up with the few single men around her age despite this. A rumor quickly started circling, though no one was quite sure who started it, that Miss Liz’s husband was dead and that she was so heartbroken over his loss that she refused to even consider dating. This was good enough for them and they never mentioned Jess’s father or Miss Liz’s past again.

Though Miss Liz had many friends in her neighbors, customers and those she waited with at pick-up time at the school, it was clear to all that she was closest with the town’s confirmed bachelor, Andrew Graham. Mr. Graham ran the law office beside the Rose Café, and was frequently in the shop between appointments. He was also the only one allowed in areas marked “Employees Only” and after a while Miss Liz’s employees didn’t even blink at seeing him enter through the door to the storeroom and Miss Liz’s office. Though at one point there was talk that they were romantically involved, they both laughed at this statement when confronted, revealing that they were only friends and could be nothing more.

Within a month of the Applegates’ arrival, everything had seemed to calm down. Miss Liz had her circle of friends, as did Jess. The Rose Café was thriving, and soon people were coming from outside of Whiteford to check it out, which the rest of the shop owners liked because it increased their business as well. Everyone was happy and even though they were now busier, they still managed to maintain the quiet nature of the town.

Until Miss Liz made the mistake of hiring Jane Martin.

Now, Jane was a good girl. She was smart and a hard worker both at the nearby community college and at the Rose Café. Jane was bubbly and great at making drinks, one of the favorite baristas of the regulars. Jane was also one of Miss Liz’s first hires when the Café was opened four years before and had stuck with the job the longest. Therefore, Jane saw Miss Liz as a close friend and could talk all day with the older woman, who always welcomed an excuse to not do paperwork or focus on bills.

However, Jane was an oddity in Whiteford, for she was overwhelmingly curious about a variety of things. She was a people watcher, an observer, and somewhat nosey. Her absolute favorite thing to do while on duty was to make up stories in her head about the customers of the Rose Café.

The elderly Irish couple, the guy who always came in wearing a Mario Brothers t-shirt, the woman who got a cup of tea then sat down with a notebook. Jane couldn’t stop asking herself, Who are these people? Where did they really come from? And why to this small café in this small town?

The speculations just kept coming. The desire for there to be a wild, elaborate explanation was too great. Something so different from the ordinary life she had and wanted to escape from.

Was that group of old ladies really a Bible study group, or were they really organizing a terrorist cell operation? Did that man really hate her by leaving a mess on the table, or was he leaving a carefully coded message that she was ruining by cleaning up the coffee spills and throwing away the napkins? And the hot guy with the British accent… Secretly a noble, hiding in America to bring back a bride he married for true love?

But never once did Jane have these wayward thoughts when it came to Miss Liz.

That is, until the day he stepped into the Rose Café.

It was a warm September day. It was just after lunch in the middle of the week, so there weren’t many customers inside the Café. Jane had taken the opportunity to pull out her history textbook to get some studying done for a test at the end of the week. She glanced up only when she heard the chimes above the door tinkle.

“Welcome to the Rose Café,” Jane said immediately as she shut her textbook as the new arrival walked towards the counter. Jane felt her smile fade a bit, a wringing feeling in her stomach as she studied this man for reasons she couldn’t understand. He was young, but very tall and had beady, black eyes that he stared at Jane with over his sharp nose. He was well dressed and very professional looking. He had this no-nonsense look on his face as he looked around the Café that reminded Jane of a CEO on a television show.

“C-Can I help you, sir?” Jane asked almost nervously. She felt her heart flutter, but not in the same way that it did when she looked at the hot guy who sat two rows ahead of her in Art History. This wasn’t something she had ever felt before, and she was somewhat glad she felt it, this sense of danger and fear. Why was this man making her feel like that? He looked nice enough.

He seemed to realize her tension because he relaxed a bit. But for some reason Jane couldn’t shake her nervousness.

“I am looking for a woman named Sierra Morrison,” The man said as he stared at Jane. “I know she lives around here. She’s an old friend of mine and I was coming in to visit her. She’s expecting me, but unfortunately I accidentally lost my phone with her address and phone number. Do you know where she lives, or where I could find a phone book?”

Jane blinked, heart still pounding. Who was he talking about? There wasn’t a Morrison family in Whiteford, nor was there a woman with the name of Sierra.

“I don’t know a woman with that name, and we don’t really have a phonebook,” She said. “Would you like to try our drink of the day? It’s a raspberry mocha and it’s really—”

“This is a pretty small town,” The man said, interrupting her, looking confused. “Are you sure there isn’t a Sierra Morrison anywhere?”

“No sir, not that I know of,” Jane said, shaking her head. “Some people commute to Whiteford from nearby towns so maybe—”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence. With a sigh, the man stalked out of the shop, leaving Jane frozen on the spot, the customers only acknowledging his departure at the sound of the door closing. The chimes echoed for several moments before Jane could move again.

An hour later, Jane sat in the back office with Miss Liz, helping place an order for more supplies. The encounter with the mysterious man was still fresh on her mind. It was something she was bursting to tell, though she didn’t know why. Maybe because she was still shaken, or because the entire thing was so weird. Regardless, it felt important.

“So this guy came in about an hour ago,” Jane said.

“Jane, am I about to hear about yet another handsome young man whom you flirted with over the counter?” Miss Liz said, eyes glinting teasingly as she glanced at the younger woman.

“No, no this is very different,” Jane said. “Definitely not flirt-worthy. He was actually kind of creepy.”

“Oh?” Miss Liz said, now sounding a lot less playful.

“Yeah, kept asking about some woman named…” Jane thought for a moment. “Sarah? No, Sierra. Yeah, that’s it. Sierra Morrison. Weird, huh? I don’t know anyone with that name. Do you?”

Miss Liz was very quiet.

Jane frowned and turned to her employer, whose hand was now shaking as she sat hunched over a piece of paperwork.

“Miss Liz?” Jane said. “Are you alright?”

“Jane, promise me something,” Miss Liz said in a deadly quiet whisper. “If that man comes back in here, make an excuse to come back here and tell me. Immediately. If I’m not here, call Andrew next door and ask him to come over through the back way. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Jane said, nodding her head. “But, Miss Liz, why? Who is he?”

“None of your concern,” Miss Liz said harshly, a tone Jane had never heard her use. “Now go see how many more bottles of pumpkin syrup we have. It’s that time of year again.”

Jane quietly rose from her chair and stepped into the stock room. She heard the office door close behind her.

And she didn’t mention that the number of bottles for that syrup was on a piece of paper two inches away from Miss Liz’s left hand.

   *   *   *

“He found us. And I missed him. This is going to ruin everything.”

“Everything is going to be alright, Applegate.”

“Lure him out of town. He can’t find Jessica—”

“Jess will be fine, too. I’ll handle everything.”

“You better, Graham.”

The dial tone hung ominously in the air as a prelude for the symphony of events that were to proceed.

   *   *   *

“Thanks Mr. Harold, you’re the best!” Jane said as she grinned at the older gentleman who was wheeling in crates full of fresh milk jugs. Mr. Harold worked for the local dairy and drove to the various businesses in the town such as the Café, other restaurants and the grocery stores, delivering fresh milk, butter, eggs and other types of dairy products that were used.

“It’s not a problem, dear,” Mr. Harold said, tipping his hat towards her. “Now, where’s Miss Liz? She has some paperwork for me to take.”

“It’s a half-day at Jess’s school,” Jane explained. “So she went to pick her up. Hang on, I’ll go get it.”

Jane quickly stepped towards the office, in search of the illusive paperwork. As Jane started to search through the stacks of papers and various other items, something caught her eye. It was the corner of a piece of paper, half hidden under a folder.

Ah ha, Jane thought as she reached for it. Maybe this is it.

She almost immediately wished she hadn’t picked it up.

It was a letter, from a lawyer’s office from the look of it. After a second, she recognized the logo as the one for Mr. Graham’s office.

And it was addressed to a Mrs. Sierra Morrison.

Why would Miss Liz have this? Jane wondered as her brow creased. And why would Miss Liz have freaked out at that name?

“Jane?”

Jane quickly hid the letter under some files and turned to see Miss Liz come up to the door of the office.

“Hey, Miss Liz,” Jane said, feeling oddly nervous and knowing that this was totally giving away that she had seen something she shouldn’t have. “I’m looking for the paperwork for Mr. Harold.”

“Oh, silly me,” Miss Liz said with a smile, though it looked oddly tight. “I should have given those to you before I left.”

She quickly found them in the mess on her desk, handed the papers to Jane and shooed her out, closing the door behind her.

Jane retreated silently with her cheeks stained scarlet.

   *   *   *

“She found the letter with my name on it, Graham.”

“You know better than that, Applegate.”

“I know, it was careless.”

“Do you think she read it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

“How is your trip so far? Enjoying yourself?”

“Oh, very much. Enjoying the fishing. I’ll bring you and Jess home a souvenir.”

“What kind of souvenir?”

“Now, if I tell you, won’t that ruin the surprise?”

“Then I’ll be patient.”

“You, patient? Ha!”

   *   *   *

Things changed around the Rose Café in the weeks following. The employees weren’t allowed in the office area unless Miss Liz was there, though it felt like that was where she always was now. Instead of coming out to chat with her customers and help Jane and the other baristas, she had locked herself inside the office. She became even more reserved from the other townspeople. It almost appeared that she was anxious about something. She was hardly speaking to her own employees. And she wouldn’t speak at all to Jane unless necessary.

“What’s been with her lately?” Heather asked Jane as the latter arrived for a closing shift. “She’s been so… un-Miss-Liz like. Do you know if something happened to her or something?”

Fortunately, a new customer saved Jane from having to answer that question.

She couldn’t help but have this feeling that Miss Liz’s recent behavior was because of her.

   *   *   *

The next few weeks were slow at the Café, which in truth may not have been the best thing for Jane. Though Miss Liz had eased out of her reclusive phase, she was still very quiet around the baristas, Jane especially.

Jane couldn’t stop thinking about that man, and Miss Liz’s behavior, and the name on the piece of paper. What did it all mean?

The thing about Jane’s overactive imagination was that she knew she had it. She always had known. As a child it had resulted in time-outs and adults complaining of headaches. As a teenager and young adult, she had read too much into her friend’s vague texts and Facebook statuses, unintentionally being the source of teenage angst and drama. It cost her a boyfriend once, when she thought he was cheating on her. Well, that time she was right, but that single victory looked pretty pathetic against her strings of defeats.

But still. Her imagination had never even begun to use Miss Liz as a muse. But now she couldn’t get it to stop, one idea after another. It was almost as if the quieter Miss Liz was, the louder Jane’s imagination was.

Miss Liz owes a gang money and that guy came to collect.

Miss Liz was in the gang and chose to leave.

Miss Liz was the gang’s boss.

Miss Liz is in witness protection.

Miss Liz is a former criminal.

Miss Liz is a former celebrity.

Miss Liz is on the run.

Then it hit her, the idea that hadn’t come before but certainly she had entertained with others.

Miss Liz was a spy.

Jane froze suddenly, her knuckles going white around the broom handle as she paused in her sweeping.

Yes, that was it. This was the answer to all of Jane’s questions. Why Miss Liz would need a fake name, why she would react at hearing of a strange man entering the Café. Certainly the Rose Café was a cover for some top-secret operation. But how did she end up getting hired if that was the case? Or was she unknowingly part of it? And what was Jess’s role in all this?

“Jane?”

“Ah!” Jane exclaimed, jumping in surprise, the broom that had been in her hands hitting the linoleum floor with a clack. Gathering her wits and feeling a bit foolish, Jane turned to Miss Liz, who stood in the doorway.

“Jane, is something wrong?” Miss Liz said, looking a bit confused as she looked at her barista. “Usually you’re done with the cleaning by now.”

“Nothing!” Jane said quickly, too quickly she realized.

Miss Liz frowned.

“Jane, I know you and I haven’t been on best terms lately, for which I apologize for my own irrationality. But you can talk to me, you know.” She said.

Jane shook her head.

“Really, it’s nothing!” She said, tone pleading.

“It’s obviously something,” Miss Liz said. “You have been spacing out a lot lately. Is there a problem with one of your courses or professors?”

“No, school’s fine, Miss Liz.”

“What about at home and with your friends?”

“No, everything’s fine.”

“Any issues with one of your co-workers?”

“No, no problems with the other baristas.”

“A boy?”

“No!”

“Jane,” Miss Liz said, her eyes serious as she leaned against the doorframe. “Is this because we haven’t been talking a lot recently?”

Jane bit her lip and averted her gaze to the floor, unable to bear Miss Liz’s stare.

“Miss Liz, I’ve got to know,” She said. “That man… you’re scared of him and I don’t blame you, but I want to know why.”

“Oh. That’s what this is about?”

Suddenly, Jane was looking at Miss Liz’s shoes. Before she could look up, the older woman gently lifted Jane’s chin with a finger, making their eyes meet.

“I think we need to talk in the office then,” She said.

Within seconds, Jane was sitting in the office with Miss Liz, who shut the door behind them.

Miss Liz turned in the chair to face Jane, putting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together, holding Jane’s gaze. She took a deep breath and said, “Jane, you know me as Liz Applegate, but that isn’t my real name.”

Jane’s heart started to pick up pace. This couldn’t be really happening, could it? It couldn’t be that one of her delusions was actually right?

“Then… what is it?” Jane said.

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t say it’s not my real name,” Miss Liz said. “It’s part of my name, which you can never tell anyone. My full name is Sierra Elizabeth Morrison. My mother’s maiden name, however, was Applegate.”

“So… you are the woman that man was looking for, then,” Jane said, brow furrowing with confusion.

“Indeed,” Miss Liz said with a small sigh. “That man was my husband.”

“Your husband?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Our marriage, however, wasn’t what I thought it would be like. It was more or less a shotgun wedding, as I was pregnant with Jess at the time. But we thought we loved each other very much. I thought that I loved him. That he loved me. But, then, after Jess was born, he became drunk frequently. It was… horrifying, what he would become, night after night.”

“Did he hit you? And Jess?” Jane almost whimpered, unable to believe that someone would do that to someone like Miss Liz or her sweet daughter.

Miss Liz just nodded.

“Finally, I was able to get out with Jess. We moved around a bit before settling here. Only Mr. Graham knows my real name, but agreed to keep it a secret in hopes that he wouldn’t be able to find us.”

“That is really nice of him.”

“He’s an old friend of mine, so he was more than ready to help me and Jess hide and for us to start over. But now do you see why I don’t date?”

“Because you don’t want to tell anyone about your ex-husband?”

“No, it’s because, legally, he still is my husband. Neither of us have signed any sort of divorce papers. Fake name or not, I couldn’t get married.”

“Like Mr. Rochester’s wife in the attic in Jane Eyre,” Jane said with realization.

“Exactly. Therefore, I choose not to tempt myself and potentially be found by him. So, now do you understand why I acted like I did?”

“Yeah,” Jane nodded. “I’m really sorry that I didn’t trust you and your reasons.”

“That’s alright. I did kind of overreact. So, are we good?”

“We’re good!” Jane said with a large grin. “And, I won’t tell anyone about your secret. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Miss Liz said, standing up. “Now, I have a few things I need to check on, and it looks like you have a few things left to do before you can go.”

“On it,” Jane said, getting to her feet. She was almost out of the office when she paused and turned to Miss Liz. “You’re not going to believe this, Miss Liz, but I came up with some pretty far-fetched stories, about who your ex was and your real name.”

“What do you mean?” Miss Liz said.

“Well,” Jane said as she turned to face her boss with a shy smile. “It was stupid really, but I thought that you could have been like with the CIA or something.”

Miss Liz laughed.

“The CIA? Can you really see me as a spy?” She said.

“When you put it like that, I really can’t,” Jane said with a laugh. “Just a silly thought. Well, I better go finish cleaning up.”

“Alright,” Miss Liz said. “Oh, look at the time. Jess is over at a friend’s house, and I better call her friend’s mom to tell her I’ll be a little late picking her up.”

“I’ll be out in the main room if you need me,” Jane said as she walked away, feeling a lot better than she had before. Like things had gone back to normal.

And everything had gone back to normal. Just now she knew Miss Liz’s secret.

For in the town of Whiteford, there was only one secret.

But no one other than Jane Martin was overwhelmingly curious to discover it.

   *   *   *

Miss Liz closed the door quietly. She pulled out her cellphone and pressed a button on speed dial, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Is it done, Graham?” She said, lips pursed.

“Yes,” Said Andrew Graham over the phone line. “I’ll be back in town tomorrow. Ordered a nice little gift for the secretary and got a tan. No one will ever suspect I wasn’t really on vacation this week.”

“And you made it look natural?”

“Of course. Coroner didn’t suspect a thing. Neither will the feds, either.”

“Did you make him unidentifiable?”

“Yep. Just another John Doe added to the list.”

Miss Liz let out a small sigh of relief. Now she and Jess were truly safe. She never should have doubted her oldest friend. And Jane would never know that she had invaluably helped them.

Jane…

Miss Liz frowned as she cracked open the door, watching the college student sweep with her earbuds in, completely in her own little world as usual.

She had hoped that a couple of half-truths would have done the trick. Enough to satisfy the girl’s curiosity and to stop drawing attention to herself. To at least pretend for a moment that she and Jess were in Whiteford simply to live in Whiteford. But now…

“About Miss Jane Martin,” She told Graham. “She’s observant. A little too observant.”

Miss Liz closed the door again as she said into the phone, “Make it look like an accident.”

Without saying another word, she hung up the phone, stuffing it in her pocket. It wouldn’t be there for long. Just until she was able to dump it into a trashcan near the county line.

Momentarily, Miss Liz felt guilty. But only momentarily. She couldn’t afford to feel guilty.

Jane was a good girl. But she was too close to the truth. It was only a matter of time before she realized that herself.

Jane was close, Miss Liz had to admit that. Because she was CIA.

Or, at least she used to be.

Until she found something better.

In a way, Jane reminded Miss Liz of herself when she was that age, just starting her college career with a firm goal in mind.

Miss Liz was that good girl. Until she was tired of that. Until she was ready for much, much more.

Something that working for the American Government wasn’t going to provide. At least, not by working solely for the CIA.

Now she was really putting her talents to use.

She couldn’t believe her husband. How could he not understand how good of an offer it was? She couldn’t believe he was actually going to turn her over. Said that she was dangerous.

He was right, though. She was dangerous. He had known that only too well.

She sighed wearily as she looked around the office.

They would have to leave town.

A trivial price to pay, in the end.

Before she left the office, Miss Liz momentarily laid a finger on the white-rose emblem of the Café on a paper napkins. She smiled to herself.

On one hand, she found it oddly sweet that he came alone. No back-up. He fell straight into the trap so temptingly laid out. On the other hand, she was disgusted that it took him so long to track her down. And that she missed him when he first entered.

But now he was gone, and she could fully begin to do the work she was born to do. She was free.

It shouldn’t have taken him this long to track her down by the white rose, a symbol of secrecy. It was like her very own personal Bat-Signal. It fit her perfectly, for she had always been secretive.

And she would be secretive up to the day that she hid on the back pew of the church as the entire town gathered to sob around a closed coffin lined with pink silk in front of the altar.

To the day that the familiar wooden Rose Café sign and its white rose was gone and a “For Rent” sign had appeared in the window, and a similar sign next door, Whiteford suddenly short a lawyer.

To the day where no one knew that Jessica Applegate wouldn’t be attending school that day, or the next, or the day after that.

To the day that the neighbors realized that they saw no moving trucks, and yet Number Seven, Green Meadow Lane was bare once more.

To the day that a single white rose was found resting beside the tombstone of Jane Martin, feeble shoots of grass just beginning to grow before the marble slab.

For in the town of Whiteford, there were no secrets. And if there were any secrets, then no one was overwhelmingly curious to discover them.

At least, there was no one anymore.