In front of the
cafe
they were greeted by
Imogen Howe
who was standing outside as if waiting for them old school style like people used to for someone at the train station before
smartphones
and
gps
.
Jake Raynor
didn't know how to approach the greeting. He didn't actually know Imogen. He'd gotten to known Imogen almost like some far off legend rather than as a real person. His passenger wouldn't talk about Imogen often, but when she did she would go down a vortex of admiration. She would speak differently about her.
All he knew was that she had dropped out of college soon into her degree and took over this cafe in the middle of nowhere. Looking around, this cornfield town didn't seem like it could be the place his passenger had gone to high school in, but apparently this was so.
After the two girls got done with their very warm and touchy reunion he was introduced.
"This is my friend Jake."
He made a joke. "So this is where she went to high school eh?"
"Yep. Just a small town girl." Imogen smiled.
Inside the two of them were offered drinks. Raynor took a black
coffee
. His passenger companion asked for a juice. "What do you recommend?"
"Beet juice." Imogen smiled.
"I'll take it."
She returned six minutes later. His black coffee was piping hot, which meant she'd timed it so that the two would receive their drinks at the same time. Good
barista
. It further made him wonder about the story of how she came to running this cafe though. In his experience cafes were always either run by middle aged people who got sick of their normal jobs and put out a shingle with dreams of living a more 'interesting' life or the more common scenario being a relatively unknown yet quite successful business owner who never worked inside the shops they owned.
Jake was letting himself go, the passenger thought while looking over from the side of her eyes while sipping her
beet juice
. Not that he was getting fat or anything, in fact he was quite muscular. Just enough that a little flab didn't look bad on him. But he hadn't been shaving as frequently. His face was covered in that dark bristly blue shadow. It was more obvious now in this cafe's lighting with its wide windows.
It was interesting that she hated this look so much. The dark blue shadow of an unshaven man. It looked dirty. Like somebody who had dipped their beak someplace unclean and didn't care to wash themselves.
But she didn't want to ask him to shave. They didn't have that kind of relationship.
"So, Imogen. How did you come to own this cafe?"
"Oh. Own? I don't own this place."
"But you run it I hear?"
"Yes. You can definitely say that."
"So what's the best part about running a cafe?"
"That's easy."
Imogen said this without answering, leaving the two guests in want.
After a few moments of head nodding Imogen answered.