Chapter 3
"George, stop gawking at the bride. Your coffee's getting cold," someone teased.
George grinned. "She's so clumsy. If I don't help her, she'll be whining about it hurting again in no time."
Maya gave him a playful smack.
"Bride? Please, we're just doing a photoshoot," Maya shot back.
The person laughed, "Come on, it's only a matter of time. You two already act like a married couple running this place."
I stood outside, my fingers picking at the wall.
The wall didn't even flake off.
This was the café he claimed was a death trap, yet even the doorstep was polished to a shine.
A young girl carrying coffee saw me, frowned, and came out.
"Who are you looking for?" the girl asked.
"I'm here for George," I replied.
The laughter inside suddenly died down for a second.
George turned to look.
When he saw me, his smile faded instantly, like someone had erased it from his face.
Maya saw me too.
She didn't even blink and hooked her arm around George's.
"George, who's this?" she said, cool as ever.
I looked at him.
"Weren't you supposed to be delivering in the next city?" I asked.
George strode out, lowering his voice.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I came to see the café you said would kill someone."
Maya walked over to the door, her red dress brushing the steps.
"George, why is she being so mean?" Maya said.
George swallowed hard.
He said, "Jennifer, why don't you head home first? I'll explain everything tonight."
I pressed, "No, explain it now."
He glanced at the people inside, clearly uneasy. "Are you really going to cause a scene right here?"
I let out a bitter laugh.
"This café is mine. I'm just standing at my own door; how is that making a scene?" I shot back.
Maya's smile finally faded.
"Yours?" she echoed.
A dozen or so people came out of the café.
Some were holding coffee cups, others were fanning themselves with fans.
A middle-aged woman in a silk shirt sized me up from head to toe.
"George, is this the one you said put up the initial money?" she asked.
George's face darkened.
"Cara, why don't you head back inside?" he said.
The woman didn't budge.
Maya let out a soft sigh. "Look, I don't know if George ever told you the whole story, but this café is something we built together, piece by piece. You gave him a loan, that's all."
I turned to George. "So that's all I was to you? Just someone who lent you money?"
George avoided my gaze.
"Jennifer, the paperwork was complicated. You weren't well at the time, and I didn't want you worrying about it, so I handled everything for you," he said gently.
"Handled what, exactly?"
"The café is in my name now. But I never forgot what you gave me."
For a moment, everything went quiet in my ears.
He said it like it was the truth.
Maya came out of the café holding a booklet and opened it to the middle page.
"Look, this is the transfer document George signed. His name is right there, clear as day," she said.
There it was, George's name on the paper.
I knew that handwriting anywhere.
But I recognized that transfer document even more.
Back then, when Rodney Everett broke his leg, he told me to pay first and said we'd wrap up the last bit of paperwork when his daughter returned. George went with me three times to sort it out.
I never authorized him to change the name.
"Did Rodney know about this?" I asked.
Maya smiled. "The owner put his own fingerprint on it. Of course he knew."
George grabbed my arm.
"Jennifer, stop asking. Just go home," he said.
I shook him off. "You took my dad's money, used the rough contract I signed, transferred it all to your name, and then told me the café was falling apart?"
His expression turned grim. "You better have proof for what you're saying."
"Proof?" I echoed.
"Exactly," Maya said, snapping the booklet shut. "If you're upset, we can sit down and talk. But you can't just say this place is yours without any proof. We've got customers here today, and you're causing trouble for our business."
The middle-aged woman frowned.
"Women these days think they can just put in a bit of money and take credit for someone else's three years of sweat and effort," she scoffed.
A man chimed in, "She doesn't even look like she owns the place, more like she's here trying to scam us."
George seized my wrist, his grip almost painful.
"Jennifer, that's enough," he said.
I looked at him.
"You spent three years looking after me. Was it all to keep me from ever setting foot here?" I asked.
Frustration flickered in his eyes.
"Haven't I treated you well these past three years? I made sure you had your medicine, a place to live. Don't push me to the point where things get ugly," he said.
Maya said softly, "George, don't be so harsh. She's got it rough too."
Her words made the people inside look down on me even more, their gazes growing colder.
I pulled my hand away.
"I'll get to the bottom of this," I said.
George blocked the door.
"Go ahead and investigate, but don't come back here causing trouble," he said.