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Chapter Text

Clarke Griffin had dreams.

Ever since the first time she’d helped her dad make a birthday cake when she was 5 … the magic of cooking had called to her …

Converting simple ingredients with mixing and heat and technique into delicious meals had always felt like a sort of magic.

She’d been cooking for her parents since she was 10. By the time she was 12, she had taken over making breakfast, lunch and dinner for her family …

Tried out new recipes on them … Worked on her skills in the kitchen …

Spent hours watching cooking shows and pouring through cookbooks in her free time looking for new skills to master and new recipes to try.

Her parents had thought it was cute … her little hobby …

And they loved her cooking.

Everyone did.

But … when her last year of high school rolled around, and Clarke told her parents that she’d been accepted at a prestigious culinary academy and would be going there instead of attending university … well … they didn’t think that was cute at all …

She’d had nearly perfect grades in school … and according to her parents … would be wasting her talents and intellect as a cook …

But the dream of owning her own restaurant … a Michelin Star restaurant … a whole chain of them … where she could spend every day whipping up her creations and delighting customers with her creativity and her mouthwatering recipes … with her new takes on classic dishes that delighted the palette and warmed the soul …

What career could possibly be more fulfilling than that?

None that Clarke could think of …

But she didn’t just have dreams.

She had the work ethic to match those ambitions.

And when her parents cut her off financially until she “came to her senses”, Clarke took the savings she’d managed to squirrel away working part-time as a barista in high school, took out student loans, moved hours away to the big city, and got a part-time job as a waitress to help support her as she pursued her dreams as a full-time student at the culinary academy.

There, she worked her ass off to hone her craft, to expand her repertoire of culinary skills and master the various arts of cooking … from knife skills to baked goods, from main courses to soups and sauces, from appetizers to deserts, wine pairings and even a bit of mixology. Her mind was a veritable library of poultry, beef, lamb, pork, fish, crustacean and even venison dishes … And she knew dozens of preparations for whatever fruits and vegetables were in season.

The teachers at the academy were demanding, the curriculum rigorous, and she’d spent countless hours in the academy’s professional kitchens perfecting her craft.

And it had paid off.

She had distinguished herself not only with her grades … but with a reputation among her teachers and the other students as a particularly gifted aspiring chef … ‘a natural’ … Picking up skills by instinct that took others years to learn …

She took her classes seriously.

Took her perfect gpa and reputation seriously …

Which was why she was having so much trouble in Chef Titus’ class …

“The reason Chef Titus pushes you is because you have talent Miss Griffin …,” the Dean sighed at her from behind his desk.

And it was all Clarke could do to not roll her eyes.

Chef Titus was an asshole.

Pure and simple.

He wasn’t pushing her skills …

She would’ve been fine with that.

Would have welcomed that.

But no …

He was pushing her buttons.

And this was the third meeting she’d had with the Dean about Chef Titus …

“His sauce was bland …,” Clarke said with as little venom as possible, “He gave us a bland recipe … and then chewed everyone out for making a sauce that was too bland … I improved on the recipe and he chewed me out for deviating from the recipe to make it less bland … There’s no winning with him … And he’s wasting our time teaching us bland recipes to do it. Unless his real lesson is teaching us to put up with a head chef who’s on a power trip …”

The Dean sighed, obviously as tired of having these conversations as she was, “But was calling him a ‘fraud’ and a ‘pompous asshole’ truly necessary?”

Clarke bit her lip, “He started it … He pretended to gag on my sauce … Which is such bullshit because it was worlds better than the recipe he gave us … And everyone else was too afraid to try it to see that he was lying. He said he wouldn’t trust me to run a hotdog stand and not screw it up … in front of the whole class!”

The Dean sighed again, “I assure you … Chef Titus is not a fraud …”

Clarke snorted.

He wasn’t gonna refute the ‘pompous asshole’ part …

“Chef Titus has three highly successful restaurants Miss Griffin,” the Dean arched an eyebrow at her, “We’re fortunate to have him teaching for us … And he wants his students to reach their potential … which comes not only through creativity, but through discipline … and following instructions … as we have discussed several times now …”

Clarke sighed and folded her arms.

“I’m sorry but …,” the Dean sighed again, “Chef Titus is no longer willing to teach you … Which means you’re no longer enrolled in his class … Which means-“

“Wait,” Clarke looked back at him with wide eyes, “I need this class … It’s a mandatory class for-“

“Yes,” the Dean looked back at her, “I’m afraid you won’t be able to continue your studies with us.”

“But but …,” Clarke sputtered, “It’s too late to drop … I already paid … and … I’m one semester away from graduating …”

He shook his head sadly, “Not from here I’m afraid.”

Clarke sat back in her chair as a weight settled onto her chest like a brick, “No … That’s … not possible …”

All her other teachers liked her.

Her baking instructor had said she was the most talented baker he’d ever had the pleasure to teach …

He’d had tears in his eyes over her cinnamon rolls and croissants …

And her grades were exceptional in all of her classes except Titus’ …

Her parents already weren’t onboard with her becoming a chef and … now she’d … failed at that?!?

“You’ve had fair warning Miss Griffin,” he looked back at her.

Clarke could barely shove down her anger, “Are you joking? I’ve been coming here to report him.”

“I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, truly …,” the Dean looked genuinely apologetic, “The registrar has already entered your ‘withdrawn’ status in our systems … which I thought you would find preferable to ‘expulsion’ on your transcript.”

Clarke shot to her feet, jaw clenched, glaring.

But she didn’t say anything.

Didn’t explode with rage like she wanted to.

She’d need letters of recommendation to try and get into another culinary school … when she could afford it … and she definitely couldn’t afford to torch this bridge entirely …

But she did grab her backpack and storm out.

Titus must’ve pulled all his strings to get her kicked out …

All the fucking strings … to get a talented, straight A student kicked out …

And now … she was so completely fucked …

Her brain flitted through the math as she walked to her apartment … the student loans she had to pay back … which she’d thought wouldn’t be a problem … because she’d have a proper job as a real chef by the time she graduated from a highly prestigious culinary academy that would all but ensure that she would have a well paying job upon graduation …

But now she was … so totally fucked …

Clarke was sweating even before she started her long walk up the seven fights of stairs to her apartment …

She texted her boss halfway up …

Maybe … she could get more hours?

Pick up more shifts at the restaurant where she waitressed to help keep her afloat until-

Even though the pay wasn’t nearly enough if she was gonna have to start paying back her student loans now that she wasn’t enrolled anymore …

And she’d been hoping to save up enough to be able to afford to move out of her current apartment … where she lived with her ex-boyfriend …

Finn had agreed to let her stay and keep splitting the rent for a few months … till she’d saved up enough for a deposit on a new place …

A favor he was doing for her that she strongly suspected was motivated by his guilt over cheating on her … because his new girlfriend started dropping by just a week after they broke up …

Though … she really did need that favor from him …

Couldn’t afford to move out …

Which meant that she couldn’t really complain about the whole cheating / new girlfriend always hanging out at their place now thing …

Even though it was uncomfortable as hell living there with him and with her hanging around all the time …

But … how the hell could she afford to move out now?!?

Clarke shoved the door to her apartment closed a little too forcefully.

Gave Finn and Christine a cursory nod from where she’d obviously startled them from their makeout session on her couch …

Walked straight past them to her room and shoved her door shut behind her, dropping her backpack on the floor.

Fuck …

She was … so fucked …

Needed to figure something out and soon because-

Clarke’s phone pinged with a text …

Her boss …

Telling her that due to road construction on the street in front of the restaurant, their foot traffic was way down and everyone’s hours were being cut to avoid layoffs …

Clarke’s jaw clenched as she read the text.

Fuck!

What now?

Search for a second job where she could pick up some shifts?

How long would that take?

Or … beg her parents for money?

Capitulate to whatever strings they put on her in exchange for that support?

Give up culinary school?

Her dream …

Clarke heard a quiet knock on her door.

Christine …

She was sure it was Christine …

And … she really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone … much less her ex’s new girlfriend …

Though … it wasn’t like her day could get any worse …

Clarke sighed and opened the door.

“Hey Clarke,” Christine gave her an oblivious smile, “Mail for you …”

She held out a thick, legal-sized envelope.

Clarke took it from her, murmuring a barely audible, “Thank you.”

And immediately closed the door and slumped down in her desk chair.

Looked at the envelope.

It looked official …

Had her full name and address written on it in neat, flowing handwriting …

And a return address she didn’t recognize …

Anya Woods, notary, CPA …

Who was that?

The envelope was sealed with thick tape.

So thick that Clarke had to cut it open with scissors …

And when she pulled out the big pile of stapled and binder-clipped papers … skimmed through them …

What was this?

Doris Griffin … who was apparently her great aunt … had passed away … four months ago …

And … she was next in the line of succession?

Doris Griffin …

Clarke didn’t recognize the name.

Though, her own name was quite distinct …

As far as she knew, she was the only Clarke Griffin in the country.

This … couldn’t have been sent to her by mistake could it?

Clarke kept reading through the documents … slogging her way through all the legalese as best she could …

Doris Griffin’s last will & testament …

The names of the three other Griffins who had declined the inheritance … resulting in the inheritance coming to her … should she choose to accept it …

Clarke’s forehead furrowed as she read … parsing her way through the documents until she came to an itemized list of the contents of the inheritance …

A coffeeshop … along with the apartment above the coffeeshop …

And a special provision … that whoever accepted the inheritance must operate the coffeeshop …

Clarke pursed her lips …

Huh …

A coffeeshop?

And an apartment?

That … would belong to her?

Clarke kept reading, her heart beating a little faster …

The building, the business was located in … Achewillow?

Where the hell was that?

She’d never even heard of it …

Clarke opened her ancient laptop.

Searched 'Achewillow’ …

The town was small … just a dot on the map … 10 miles from a highway …

In the middle of nowhere …

Surrounded by forests and … what looked like … farmland maybe?

There was so little online about the town … no pictures at all …

No pictures of the coffeeshop online either …

Hmm …

Property though …

If … she could find a way to sell it … maybe it could help her pay off her loans?

Help keep her afloat?

Help her pay her tuition to a new culinary school maybe?

She doubted that a business in the middle of nowhere was worth much …

But … she was way too poor not to at least investigate the possibility of making some quick cash …

And … her hours at work had just been cut … she had time to investigate the possibility …

Had nothing but time now that she had no classes to go to …

She checked the name of the contact person again …

Anya Woods, notary, CPA … and her office was also located in Achewillow …

The instructions said to come to her office with two state issued IDs to claim the inheritance should she choose to accept it … or to call to decline if she didn’t want it …

How would she get there?

According to her laptop … Achewillow was a five hour drive away … if she had a car …

She looked for a bus to Achewillow …

No luck.

She opened the ride-share app she’d used to find a cheap lift home last Christmas …

Posted a request for a ride from her city to Achewillow … offering to split the gas bill …

There was no way in hell anyone was going to Achewillow …

There was nothing there as far as she could see …

But … maybe someone would be passing by Achewillow on that highway near the town … on their way to a real city?

Clarke laid down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling …

Contemplating the direness of her situation …

Her expulsion …

Her student loans …

The need to find another job …

What her parents would say if they knew about her situation …

They would happily welcome her back … fund her going to university … studying for a “more professional” and no doubt soul crushing career that she didn’t want …

Last Christmas, she had taken particular pleasure in showing them her grades … in whipping up incredible meals for them that she had hoped would finally help them see that cooking was her gift … her calling … her destiny …

But now …

Clarke looked over at her desk … at the stack of papers from Anya Woods …

Thought about those 3 other Griffins who had declined the inheritance …

That was odd …

Right?

Who said ‘no’ to free property?

A free business?

Or maybe … Clarke swallowed … maybe all those other Griffins had their lives together …

Had thriving careers they loved and plenty of money …

Weren’t splitting rent with their cheating exes because they were to poor to get their own place …

Maybe it wasn’t worth their time to leave their perfect lives and drive out to the middle of nowhere to visit a small town that was just a name on a map with no pictures …

Maybe … she was the biggest failure in her entire bloodline?

Clarke sighed and closed her eyes …

Could feel the headache forming behind her eyes …

Sleep …

She just needed sleep …

To put this awful day behind her for a little while …

And tomorrow … she could start looking for a new job … start figuring things out …

—-

Clarke startled awake to the sound of her phone pinging two hours later.

She blearily reached for it …

Hoping it was her boss asking her to pick up a shift …

Hoping that it wasn’t her parents …

And it wasn’t.

It was a message.

A reply to her post for a ride.

Clarke’s eyebrows raised.

Already a reply?

To Achewillow?

“Happy to give you a lift. Headed out to Achewillow tomorrow. Can pick you up from the central bus station at 7 a.m. - Gus”

What were the odds?

She’d thought it would take maybe a week … maybe more to find someone headed that way …

They were going to Achewillow … tomorrow … and just happened to be looking for a passenger on the same ride-share app she used?

This ‘Gus’ person was for sure gonna murder her right?

If … that was his plan … maybe her name would scare him off …

Without fail, everyone who learned her name before meeting her assumed that she was a man …

Though she loved her name, ‘Clarke’ wasn’t the most girly name …

She replied:

‘Cool. I’ll pay half on gas. How do I know which car is yours? - Clarke”

His reply only took a few minutes.

‘Red delivery truck. You can’t miss it. See you at 7 Clarke.’

Hmm …

Not scared off by her name …

An equal opportunity murderer?

A delivery driver going to Achewillow was plausible though …

And she did need that ride …

Had to at least meet the man and suss out any murderer vibes before she could afford to refuse such a convenient offer …

And even if he seemed okay … she’d take a picture of him and his vehicle and send it to someone just in case … and let Gus know she was doing that … so he knew she wasn’t an easy target …

He’d have to be crazy to murder her despite having his picture taken and shared …

Clarke messaged back:

‘See you then.’

Either tomorrow she would be getting murdered at the bus station by a crazy person … or she’d be on her way to becoming a property owner …

Chapter Text

Clarke dragged her big wheeled suitcase to the central bus station early … at 6:45 …

She wasn’t sure how much to pack.

Or how long it would take to figure out how to make arrangements to sell the place …

Had no idea how long she’d be in Achewillow …

But she did like to be prepared for anything.

The letter had said that the coffeeshop had an apartment above it that was included in the inheritance … so she would presumably have free place to sleep …

And if she could find a way to get out of the whole “have to operate the coffeeshop” requirement, put the property up for sale while she was in Achewillow … even if she could just make a few thousand bucks off the sale of the apartment … it’d be worth missing a few days of work … Weeks of work even …

And if she couldn’t sell it, well, she’d just roll her big wheeled suitcase right back out of town … catch a ride with someone to the nearest city … catch a bus home from there.

Everyone at work was desperate for more shifts after their hours had been cut …

They were as broke as she was.

Finding someone to cover her shifts for a few days hadn’t been hard at all.

And as Clarke stood there beside her suitcase, outside the dingy crowded bus station … she thought about it … not for the first time since receiving the thick envelope that was currently in her backpack with her laptop …

What if … she didn’t sell the place …

What if … she did operate the coffeeshop as Doris Griffin had wanted …

Clarke couldn’t really imagine herself living in a small town in the middle of nowhere.

Couldn’t fathom not finishing culinary school … somewhere …

And running a coffeeshop was not her dream.

She had way too many skills for that …

A coffeeshop was not the fine dining establishment she’d been training to work in for the past three and a half years.

On the contrary, in a small middle-of-nowhere town ten miles from a highway, Clarke was almost certain that ‘coffeeshop’ meant ‘dingy truck stop for long haul truckers’ … where she’d probably spend more time cleaning than pouring bitter coffee into chipped mugs …

And running a dingy truck stop was so far from her dream …

If working in a coffeeshop was her dream, then she would’ve achieved that dream back in high school … when she’d been working part-time as a barista at a big chain coffeeshop in the evenings and on weekends … And even that place was a step above a dingy truck stop in the middle of nowhere …

Though, having an establishment of her own did appeal to her …

Hell, even just being out of the apartment and away from Finn and Christine appealed to her …

Christine was … fine … Friendly even.

Was understanding about her living there because of her financial situation.

But … Christine also kind of looked like her … Blonde hair … straight and long rather than wavy … a similar face … blue eyes … Same height and build too … But her personality was the complete opposite of Clarke’s …

And while she could accept that her relationship with Finn hadn’t been going great … that she’d been way too busy with work and school to give him the attention that he absolutely craved … seeing Christine … a happier, kinda clueless, totally unambitious, and not particularly notable in any way woman who looked like her be Finn’s next girlfriend … It made her feel like the only reason they’d ever been in a relationship in the first place was because she was Finn’s type physically …

And … seeing him with her doppelgänger just felt … creepy …

Why didn’t Christine think it was creepy?

Was she just so oblivious that she didn’t even notice the resemblance?

Clarke shook her head to banish the thought as she watched the big red delivery truck pull up to the curb in front of the bus station, watched a mountain of a man in a flannel shirt and jeans step out of the cab …

Holy fuck he was huge …

Could easily murder her with his bare hands …

He was in his 40s or 50s maybe … though it was hard to tell with that big black beard covering so much of his face …

Convenient for obscuring his identity …

He was looking around at the crowd of people waiting for their busses …

No doubt looking for Clarke the man …

And … it made him seem less threatening somehow …

The way he was looking around … looking a little lost …

Clarke inconspicuously took a picture of the red delivery truck … its license plate … him …

And then wheeled her suitcase a little closer to him, “Gus?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “Clarke?”

She nodded back at him.

His forehead furrowed.

And then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet … pulled out his drivers license and showed it to her, “Thought … you might wanna see this … A lady traveling on her own …”

She smiled at him.

That was considerate.

Already made her feel a bit more comfortable about getting into a vehicle with this stranger …

She wordlessly snapped a photo of his ID and texted it along with the photo of him and the truck’s license plate to a friend with the note: ‘Grabbing a ride-share with a stranger. Sending this for safety purposes. Call the cops if you don’t hear from me by the end of the day.’

Her friend texted back a thumbs up.

She looked at the big red delivery truck, “What sort of gas mileage do you get?”

Even splitting the fuel cost with him might be more expensive than she had anticipated …

Five hours on the road was a long drive …

And it was a big delivery truck that looked decades old …

Definitely not the most fuel efficient …

“Not great,” he chuckled, “How ‘bout you buy me lunch along the way and we call it even.”

Clarke smiled back at him, “You’ve got a deal.”

He had a nice smile.

And she wasn’t getting any murderer vibes from him …

He offered to put her bag in the back for her … showed her the step up to help her get into the cab … and that was it …

Her life was in his hands …

—-

The drive to Achewillow was quiet …

Peaceful …

Gus … or “Gustus” according to his drivers license … wasn’t much of a talker it seemed …

Or he was being polite about her maybe not really wanting to talk …

And Clarke popped in her headphones and listened to music most of the way … as the city streets turned to highway … as the highway passed through more and more rural landscapes … past small towns … and smaller towns … past farms … and then eventually lush green forests …

It … was sort of relaxing actually …

Being away from the city …

Away from all the cars …

The noise …

The crowds of people …

But most of all … being away from the trainwreck that was her life …

And she had this opportunity … that would maybe help her turn things around for herself …

This one bright spot of hope to save her from impending financial and professional ruin …

Just having an option … a potential way out felt like a refreshing novelty … after necessity had been making so many of her decisions for her lately …

When lunchtime rolled around, Gus pointed at the kind of truck stop that was exactly the kind of place she feared that the coffeeshop would be …

And she nodded at him.

The place had bitter coffee.

Cheap tables and plastic chairs and smelled vaguely like cleaning products …

They served food too.

Or … what passed for food in a truck stop …

And Clarke used her credit card to pay the check for the mountain of uninspired scrambled eggs and boring looking pancakes and bacon that the waitress brought out for Gus.

Ate the boring and not properly whisked scrambled eggs and disappointing hash browns the waitress brought for her.

The meal was cheap though.

That was its one redeeming quality …

Even though her finely tuned tastebuds catalogued every single thing that was wrong with her meal and how she would have improved it …

She couldn’t help it really …

She had all this culinary training, all this knowledge and all these skills now … Knew the right textures … the right flavor combinations and seasonings … Knew everything that was wrong with the coffee too and what adjustments they should make to their coffee machine … which kind of filters they should switch to …

“You okay?” Gus looked across the table at her.

Clarke nodded, “Yeah. Just thinking.”

He grinned at her, “Long drives are good for that.”

Clarke smiled at him, “You have deliveries in Achewillow?”

He nodded, “For the local businesses … Yeah. I make trips back and forth pretty regularly for them … Achewillow’s pretty far off most delivery routes …”

Clarke nodded.

“What brings you to Achewillow?” he asked lightly and sipped his terrible coffee.

Clarke shrugged, “An opportunity … Maybe …”

He hummed at that.

“What’s it like?” Clarke asked, “The town … I … couldn’t find much about it online …”

He gave her a little smile, “Well … I love it. But I suppose it’s not for everyone … Small towns are different than the big cities … in pretty much every way …”

Clarke nodded at that.

It was an honest answer, which she appreciated.

“You ever live in a small town?” he asked.

Clarke shook her head.

He hummed, “The thing about small towns is … it’s all about the people. Bad people, bad town. Good people, good town.”

“And Achewillow?” Clarke raised an eyebrow at him.

“Good people,” he smiled back warmly, “Some of them are a little eccentric … but …” he shrugged.

Clarke nodded.

The city was full of weirdos too.

Anywhere there were people, there were weirdos …

Titus for example …

Her too she guessed.

Somehow, she was the only student in her class to stand up to Titus and his bullying …

He was a bad teacher.

But … she couldn’t deny that her pride was part of it …

She was proud of her cooking … her skills …

Fiercely proud.

Had bet her entire future on her skills and worked her ass off to master her craft …

And she didn’t care how many successful restaurants he had …

She wasn’t gonna swallow her pride and put up with his belittling just because he liked to humble people … liked to pretend that his opinions were the only ones that mattered and everyone should be kissing his ass to get his approval … Her food spoke for itself.

They got back in the delivery truck and resumed the long, quiet drive to Achewillow …

Clarke with her headphones in, listening to music.

She almost could’ve dozed off really …

Passing miles after mile of nothing but trees …

And … maybe she did doze off a little …

But her eyelids fluttered open when she felt the delivery truck turn off the highway and down a small two lane road into the trees …

And Clarke started to feel nervous again …

Maybe it was a mistake to take this ride with a stranger …

Maybe it had been a mistake not to talk to Gus more … because it looked like they were just headed into the woods …

There were no indication at all of a town …

And Clarke was about to say something when … she saw a sign.

Literally …

Saw a maybe 8 foot wide wooden sign that said ‘Achewillow’ in flowing script, decorated with carvings of trees on either side of the name … no doubt made by some local craftsman …

It was quaint.

A more personal touch than the metal signs with the names of the other towns they’d passed on the highway written in generic block letters …

Then she saw a yellow sign that said ‘Slow Down! Raccoon Crossing’ with a picture of three black lumps with striped tails under the words …

She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a “raccoon crossing” sign before … but she saw three more of those signs on the drive into the town …

And just a few miles in … the trees opened up … and the small town of Achewillow stretched before her …

And the town was … cute …

Surrounded by big forest covered hills at the far edges …

Under the bright blue midday sky …

The streets were lined with two story brick buildings that could’ve been a hundred years old … but were in good repair …

There were older looking building made of timber too … styles of architecture that also looked out of a previous century … but that were just as neat and tidy and well maintained as the clean streets …

The sidewalks were lined with shops that had wooden signs hanging above their doors … a cheese shop … a butcher shop … a hardware store … a few mom & pop restaurants … a bar … one sign said ‘Kites & Games’ … all kinds of different shops …

Honestly, the town was waaaaaaay nicer than she’d been expecting …

Looked like the kind of place city people would go to for a weekend getaway …

The town was bigger than she’d expected too …

Maybe a thousand people lived here? Maybe a few thousand?

They drove past a big park in the center of the town … with sidewalks winding through it and big shade trees … and people out walking their dogs … Lots of people on bicycles and … flying kites … playing frisbee … And a man in white robes was holding a big sign that said ‘The End is Coming! But not today. You still have time …’

Clarke’s forehead furrowed at the man in white robes as he waved at them … holding up his weird sign … as the red delivery truck slowly drove past him … mindful of raccoons …

“So where can I drop you?” Gus asked.

“Oh um …,” Clarke pulled the thick envelope out of her backpack, “Anya Woods? Do you know where her office is? Hold on … I can find the address …”

“I know where it is,” he grinned, “It’s a small town …”

The big red delivery truck pulled up in front of one of the two story brick buildings … with ‘Anya Woods, CPA’ written in official looking lettering on the big plate glass window.

When Gus parked the truck out front, Clarke thanked him for the ride, and he got her suitcase out of the back of the truck for her and wished her luck with her ‘opportunity’.

And Clarke texted her friend to let her know that Gus hadn’t murdered her … and then wheeled her big suitcase to the door of Anya Woods, CPA, and stepped inside …

Chapter Text

Clarke tugged her big rolling suitcase over the threshold and quietly closed the door to Anya Woods’ office …

And a woman wearing a business suit seated behind a big wooden desk looked up at her from her paperwork … and frowned.

Clarke cleared her throat a little, feeling a little out of place standing there in her hoody and jeans, “Hello … I’m … um … looking for Anya Woods?”

She felt more than a little self conscious standing there with her big suitcase too ...

“And you are?” the woman arched an intimidating eyebrow at her.

“Clarke,” she cleared her throat again, “Clarke Griffin. I received a letter about-“

The woman leaned back in her chair, eyeing her.

“About … Doris Griffin …,” Clarke added.

It felt … indecent to say ‘I’m here for my inheritance from a woman I’ve never met … Can I have some money please?’

The woman pursed her lips, looking her in the eye … and the expression made her sharp features look even sharper somehow …

“She was … my great aunt?” Clarke added.

“Hmm …,” the woman looked back at her, looking unconvinced.

And it was all Clarke could do not to fidget under her heavy gaze.

The way the woman was looking at her … made her feel like … she’d been caught sticking her hand into an old lady’s purse to steal her wallet … or even worse … a dead woman’s purse …

But that wasn’t what she was doing … Clarke reminder herself …

She was here by invitation …

Clarke opened her backpack and pulled out the thick envelope, stepped over and handed it to the her, standing up a little straighter.

The woman glanced at the envelope, “Have a seat.”

Clarke did as she was told, set her backpack down on the floor beside her.

“So … you’re here to …”

That eyebrow was arching at her again.

“To accept the inheritance,” Clarke looked back at her steadily, “But … I also have some questions.”

“Can I see some ID please?”

Clarke nodded and pulled out her passport, her wallet, pulled out her drivers license and handed them over.

The woman eyed the license and passport carefully, again making Clarke feel like a fraud …

And then the woman took pictures of the IDs with her phone, sighed, and handed them back, “I’m Anya.”

Clarke nodded and took back her IDs.

“What are your questions,” Anya leveled her with that heavy stare again.

“Well …,” Clarke cleared her throat again, “There was a line … in Doris’ will … that said … that I can’t sell the property?”

Anya dipped her chin, “That’s correct. To inherit the property, you have to operate the business.”

“Why?” Clarke looked back at her, “I mean … That’s strange right? If it’s legally mine … if I’m the owner … then I should be able to do whatever I want with-“

“You can’t sell it,” Anya arched that eyebrow at her again, “The will stipulates that the inheritor must operate the business. And it’s a historic building. It can’t be sold. Only handed down to a descendant. It’s in the town charter too.”

“Wait …,” Clarke looked back at her, “So … I wouldn’t own it … The town does?”

Anya sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, like Clarke was a student who kept giving the wrong answer, “No … Whoever inherits it owns it … operates the business … until one of their descendant inherits it and operates the business. But they cannot sell it.”

Clarke looked back at her, “Is there a way to change that … in the charter or-“

“No,” Anya looked back at her.

Clarke’s forehead furrowed back at her, “What if … I wanted to renovate it … Tear down a wall or-”

Anya nodded, “You can make changes to the interior with an approved contractor … as long as it doesn’t alter or damage the exterior structure … or interfere with operating the business.”

Clarke sighed and sat back in her chair.

So … this was why the other Griffins had declined the inheritance …

This town was … really protective of this coffeeshop …

“Maybe if I showed it to you?” Anya stood up and buttoned her suit jacket, “Maybe that would help.”

Anya opened a drawer and pulled out a ring of keys. Grabbed a leather messenger bag off the floor and started stuffing files into it from another drawer.

And Clarke got to her feet and put her backpack back on.

Followed Anya out the door with her luggage, and watched her lock her office door. And then walked as quickly as she could pulling her big wheeled suitcase to keep up with Anya’s long strides.

“Ever run a business before?” Anya tossed out, seemingly uncaring that Clarke was two long strides behind her.

“No …,” Clarke hurried after her, tugging her suitcase along the sidewalk, sweating.

Anya sighed, “Do you know how to make a cup of coffee?”

“Yes …,” Clarke bristled, “I worked as a barista in high school. And I went to culinary school but-“

“Good.”

It was the least hostile thing Anya had said to her so far …

And Clarke shoved down the little spark of happiness at giving the right answer to this … deeply unpleasant woman who she shouldn’t give a shit about pleasing …

Clarke saw Gus’ big red delivery truck parked just up ahead by the sidewalk and almost felt relief to see it as she dragged her suitcase after Anya …

Even though they had barely talked, and she had suspected him of being a murderer more than once, Gus was practically her best friend compared to Anya …

‘Some of them are a little eccentric …’ Gus had said …

But Anya wasn’t ‘eccentric’ really … just … rude …

“Well … This is it,” Anya sighed, pulling the keys out of her pocket and unlocking a blonde wood door …

And Clarke stopped on the sidewalk and … stared …

She couldn’t see into the coffeeshop …

It had big plate glass windows that were beautifully frosted … and etched into the frosted glass … was a big willow tree … artfully rendered … clearly with great care by a true artist …

And beneath the beautiful etching of the big tree … where its willowy branches hung down … etched just as beautifully … were the words … ‘The Achewillow’ … in elegant flowing calligraphy …

And the coffeeshop took up the entire first floor of the building …

Clarke looked up.

While the facade of the coffeeshop was blonde wood up to about a waist-height … and then plate glass above that … the building itself was red brick …

And there were windows in the brick on the front wall of the second story … nice big windows to let lots of natural light into the apartment upstairs …

It was a nice building really … well maintained …

“Are you coming?”

Anya’s impatient voice cut through her musings, and Clarke sighed and wheeled her big suitcase through the door and over the threshold and-

She was staring again …

Jaw hanging open …

This wasn’t … just a coffeeshop …

No …

This was … closer to … a cafe …

Had a dozen or so tables and chairs that looked like they were made out of the same kind of wood as the blonde wood floors …

Had comfy looking booth seating running along one of the side walls … with small tables in front of the booth seating and chairs opposite for the other patrons …

And the place was charming as hell … cozy … with rustic wood beam floors and a wood beam ceiling … but … there was something elegant about the place too …

The tables and chairs were laid out just so … and Clarke could so easily imagine friends coming here to talk … students coming here to study … People dropping by on their lunch break with a colleague to soak up the good vibes and cozy, homey atmosphere of the place …

There was a counter across the back of the big seating area …

The left half of the counter was dotted with a few circular bar stools for customers … in the middle of the counter was a gap for the owner to step through when someone at a table needed their coffee freshened up … And on the right half of the counter was a big metal cash register that looked like it was from the 1950’s … or maybe the 1920’s …

And under the counter was a big glass display case … the top shelf inside was glass … was where the plates of desserts would go … pies and cakes … banana bread … pumpkin bread … and the bottom shelf of the display case was lined with empty metal baskets … where more fresh baked goods would go … muffins and cinnamon rolls … croissants to go with the coffee … cookies and donuts maybe …

And Clarke just stood there … taking it all in … soaking in the welcoming vibes …

These chairs … the tables … the booth seating along the wall and the counter and cash register and … they were all hers …

Belonged to her …

Or … could belong to her …

Clarke closed the front door and heard the door chimes tinkle lightly.

Took off her backpack and put it beside her suitcase.

Walked around the place … touching the smooth wood surfaces of the obviously well used tables and chairs …

They were a little dusty … but … after a wipe-down … they’d be ready for use …

She stepped behind the counter … feeling a little like she was trespassing … like she’d walked into a stranger’s bedroom …

There was another long wooden counter lining the wall behind the dining counter with a small sink … And something really large sitting on that counter … under a big white sheet …

Clarke tugged off the sheet … and saw the biggest monstrosity of a coffee machine that she had ever seen …

Copper and steel with … weird bendy metal pipes and unlabeled dials and metal switches …

The thing looked like a metal steampunk octopus …

Clarke heard a thump from somewhere in the back of the shop … and Anya made a beeline to the back … walking through the gap in the counter and through a swinging door that Clarke had barely registered …

And Clarke followed after her … and froze …

Firstly, because behind that door was a big professional kitchen … with multiple chrome stove tops and multiple chrome ovens and a big industrial metal sink and dishwashers and metal work tables for food prep and two big commercial refrigerators and two big freezers and big professional-grade mixers on the counter and … Gus … standing there with a dolly that was loaded with a stack of boxes …

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Anya baulked at him.

Gus raised an eyebrow at her, “Making my delivery.”

And … that did seem a little crazy because the entire back wall of the kitchen … all the metal shelves and even the tops of some of the metal workstations were absolutely full of bulk boxes of cooking supplies … boxes and boxes and boxes of restaurant grade salt and flour and white sugar, brown sugar, cooking oils and bags of oats and nuts and so many spices and big jars of peanutbutter and honey and so many bags of coffee beans and bottles of fancy vanilla and cartons of almond milk and soy milk and-

“The business is closed,” Anya huffed at him.

Gus just shrugged his big shoulders, “Doris prepaid for delivery.”

“It’s been four months!” Anya arched her intimidating eyebrow at him.

He shrugged again, “She prepaid her deliveries for six months. And she gave me a key specifically for the purpose of making deliveries. So unless someone takes possession and tells me they don’t want two more months of deliveries …”

Gus winked at Clarke, giving her a little grin.

“Are there perishables in here?” Anya’s voice arched higher with frustration.

Gus bit his lip, “I donate them before they go bad … Before I restock … To keep everything in here clean.”

Anya sighed and dragged a hand down her exasperated face …

“Look … I’m not breaking my deal with Doris …,” Gus raised an intimidating eyebrow of his own at Anya, “I’d rather cut off my own hand than break a promise to her … So it is what it is Anya.”

Clarke could barely focus on their conversation because … good god … there were so many supplies in here … Enough to feed a literal army … And her brain was flooded with all the things she could do with these supplies … All the cookies and cakes and pies and croissants and varieties of donuts and all the breads and-

Clarke’s feet carried her over to one of the big industrial fridges … and when she tugged open the doors … oh god … all the eggs … and fresh dairy … milk and butter … the really nice kinds of milk and butter … farm fresh … a variety of gourmet cheeses … fresh herbs … fruits …

Her hands tingled with excitement at what could be done with all this bounty as her eyes landed on each item … until her nose started to get cold from standing in front of the open fridge doors staring for so long …

She silently closed the doors.

Tuned back into the conversation.

Or rather, tuned into Anya’s groan/roar of frustration just before she stormed back through the swinging door calling out, “Come on Claire!”

Clarke winced.

But Gus just smiled at her, chuckling, “She’ll be alright …”

And then Gus gave her a considering look, “I see it now … the resemblance … I … wasn’t sure before … Doris wasn’t much of a frowner …”

Clarke shifted on her feet.

“But now?” Gus gave her a fond smile, the kind she used to get from her parents before she’d enrolled in culinary school, “I see it. That smile, that sparkly look in your eye … I think you’re gonna do great here Kid.”

And that’s when Clarke realized … she was smiling …

Holy shit …

She was smiling without even realizing …

Big and goofy …

A smile that felt … unfamiliar to her cheek muscles …

“Claire!” Anya’s screech interrupted the moment.

Gus just chuckled and shook his head, “Better get out there before she blows a gasket Clarke. I’ll lock the back door when I’m done unloading.”

Clarke nodded and made her way through the swinging door.

And Anya already had stacks of paperwork laid out on the counter and a pen in hand … was sitting on one of the barstools.

“It’s Clarke,” Clarke smiled at her, “Not Claire.”

Anya just rolled her eyes and gestured impatiently at the stool beside her, “If you’re still interested in operating the business … then there are things we need to discuss.”

Clarke stepped around the counter and took a seat on the stool beside her.

—-

Going through the paperwork while Anya explained everything was mind numbing …

Necessary, but mind numbing …

Anya was an accountant … and she clearly loved this shit … going through the will … talking legalities … talking about the utilities and bills associated with operating the business … the utility costs associated with the apartment upstairs and the building … the permits and even the health code requirements for running this business … the sales taxes … the business taxes … the income taxes …

Clarke’s parents would have been overjoyed if she’d gone to university to become an accountant like Anya … and if she had … Clarke would have thrown herself off a bridge …

She had taken a class in hospitality management at culinary school though … knew the importance of record keeping … bookkeeping … inventory management … cost control and menu planning to avoid waste and increase efficiency … and of course sanitation and food safety … Knew that from working in restaurants too …

She’d never planned on being a restaurant manager though …

And talking to Anya … it made the responsibility of running a business … a cafe … very real …

How many people in their twenties ran their own business?

“Still interested?” Anya looked into her dazed eyes.

Clarke pursed her lips.

Look … she was more interested in staying and running this place than when she’d arrived …

Way more interested than she’d ever imagined being in running a small town cafe …

She was certainly charmed by the place … by the possibilities … the potential … and what she could do here … what she could create here with the freedom of being her own boss … with the mountain of free supplies in the kitchen …

And if selling the place truly wasn’t an option …

But … what about culinary school?

Her dream?

This place needed a baker more than a chef …

And she was a great baker … anyone who’d tasted her baking in culinary school had been blown away by her baking …

But … so many of her other skills would be useless at a cafe like this …

And what would life in this small town like this even be like?

Though … she could admit that … there was so little for her to go back to in the city when it came to her personal life …

And how awesome would it be to never see Finn and Christine again …

But this place was a major responsibility … and could potentially derail the plan, the future, the career that she’d been dreaming of and training for for so many years …

And being here long term …

“Yeah …,” Clarke looked back at her, still feeling a little hazy as her mind swam with all the details, “I just … uh … could use a cup of coffee …”

Anya nodded over at the steampunk octopus monstrosity on the back counter, “Go for it. I’ll take one too. Milk and two sugars.”

Clarke got up from the barstool, felt pins and needles as the blood returned to her legs after sitting with Anya for … god … it must’ve been hours that they’d been sitting there talking through the fine print and details …

She made her way through the swinging door to the back to grab a bag of coffee beans from the overflowing supply shelves, milk from the fridge and sugar and mugs from the closet full of dishware and silverware …

God … this place had truly everything she needed to run the place … all ready to go … Even the dishes were cute … vintage … She would have picked out the style herself …

Clarke made her way back through the swinging door to the steampunk monstrosity …

Just … stared at it …

How did you even … turn it on …

She looked behind the counter … was it even plugged in?

She … didn’t see a cord … or a socket …

“Third switch from the left,” Anya looked at her, “You might wanna put the water and beans in first though …”

Clarke did as she was told …

The coffee machine was … still a mystery … but she did figure out how to open it and where to pour the water in … Found another compartment where the beans went … where apparently the whole coffee beans went as the machine had spinning blades below the bean chamber … where the machine apparently had some sort of integrated coffee bean grinder?

Was this coffee machine homemade?

Did some small town mad scientist invent this thing?

Did Doris invent it?!?

She placed one of the coffee mugs under one of the four spigots … the one closest to the bean chamber … flipped the third metal switch from the right … and the monster let out a puff of steam … like it had been holding its breath for ages …

And then it buzzed and whirred to life … its metal tubes vibrating and tensing, tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing like the octopus was stretching its limbs …

And when she turned on the spigot, hot coffee poured into the mug … dark and rich … filling the cup in hardly any time at all … like it was eager to make coffee …

And Clarke could tell from just the smell …

This cup of coffee … was gonna be delicious …

It took some will power to add milk and sugar to the cup and hand it over to Anya rather than drink it herself …

She really needed a cup of coffee …

And when Anya took the cup and sipped …

The way she closed her eyes and sighed … the way her face relaxed and her sharp features softened into a look of total contentment …

It was a damn good cup of coffee …

Anya was … actually kind of beautiful when she looked relaxed and content …

Either that or Clarke’s brain had stopped functioning entirely due to the lack of caffeine …

Clarke turned back to the machine and eagerly poured herself a cup …

The machine made a sort of … purring sound this time?

Different than before …

And Clarke had this … strange impulse to pet this no doubt burning hot metal monstrosity … an impulse she resisted to protect herself from what would no doubt be a severe scalding if the puff of steam that came out of the machine was anything to go by …

She lifted the mug to her lips … breathing in the rich aroma of a delicious smelling cup of coffee … blew off the steam … and took a sip …

Clarke groaned … out loud …

A deep, primal groan …

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

This was the single best cup of coffee she had ever tasted.

In her entire fucking life …

Every subtle flavor of the coffee registered on her tongue … slipped across her tastebuds like silk … the earthy beans … hints of hazelnut … notes of cinnamon … a half dozen flavors she couldn’t even name …

This coffee … was a hot mug of caffeine ecstasy …

No fucking wonder the town wanted someone to run this cafe.

To have her make this mind blowing coffee for them every god damn day till she died … and then have a descendant come make them this coffee for the rest of their lives too …

Holy fuck it was amazing …

Clarke was hesitant to even add a little milk and sugar to her cup …

It was so delicious already …

But she added just a little … just to try it out …

Sipped again …

And it was just as delicious as before … the notes hit her tongue a little differently this time … the subtle flavor of the milk brought out the notes of the coffee differently … but it was still absolutely incredible … delicious …

“So …,” Anya took a sip, looking back at her, “You said you went to culinary school?”

Clarke nodded.

She hadn’t even been sure Anya had heard her say that part … when she’d been rushing to keep up with her … but somehow always two steps behind Anya’s long strides as she’d dragged her luggage down the sidewalk after her …

“You any good?” Anya lifted her chin at her.

The words weren’t so friendly … but … with Anya’s expression more relaxed now … it seemed like an honest question … genuine interest … like Anya was really seeing her for the first time …

Maybe Anya had just really needed that cup of coffee this whole time …

Clarke grinned back at her, “Yes I am.”

Chefs weren’t known for their humility.

And Clarke was a damn good chef by any measure … and a damn good baker …

No sense in pretending she wasn’t.

Anya nodded slowly, “Doris’ food was amazing … her coffee too. It’d be big shoes to fill. Do you think you’d be up to it?”

Clarke put her coffee cup down on the counter, turned the mug around, thinking …

And then looked back at Anya, “It’s just a big commitment.”

Anya nodded, “It is. If you don’t want it … there’s no shame in that. I’ll just keep going down the line till I find someone who does want it.”

And Clarke’s heart ached a little at that …

At the thought that she was so easily replaceable …

But … it felt like Anya was maybe being kind … trying to take the pressure off her decision too … which was considerate of her …

“I … might need to sleep on it …,” Clarke admitted, “It’s a really big decision.”

Anya nodded again and glanced at Clarke’s suitcase, “You can stay in the apartment upstairs tonight if you need to … Let me know tomorrow. Just clean up after yourself.”

She put the ring of keys on the counter.

“Thank you,” Clarke smiled at her

“But … there is one more thing we should go over,” Anya added, and then pulled two notebooks out of her leather messenger bag and placed them on the counter, “I was Doris’ accountant … And I have her tax returns. Her profit and cost records for the last few years. I don’t know how good you’ll be at this … but … I can show you what Doris was able to do with this business … That’d be worth thinking about tonight too.”

Clarke refilled their coffee mugs and took a seat beside her, feeling more awake already with the fresh dose of delicious caffeine …

Anya walked her through the tax records … the notebooks Doris kept on her profits and expenses …

Did it slowly … stopping to ask if Clarke had any questions … if everything made sense … and answered her questions patiently … which Clarke appreciated …

But … overall …

The cafe had been doing extremely well during Doris’ time …

Way better than Clarke would’ve expected for a cafe in such a small town …

Doris must’ve had a head for business and baking … and the folks here must’ve adored her food for her to be making profits like these …

And those dollars must have stretched even further in a small town like this …

And with free rent on top of that with the apartment upstairs … those dollars would stretch even further …

Even here, in a small town in the middle of nowhere, she could earn so much more running this place than she could working as a waitress in the city and having to pay for rent on top of that …

Only having to pay for utilities and taxes and supplies, and with so many free ingredients just waiting in the kitchen to be used, Clarke could afford to start paying back her student loans no problem if she did things right … and would still have plenty left over to live on each month … Even if she just stayed through the summer … just 6 months or so … a year maybe … she’d definitely have enough to save up for a deposit on a new apartment too … could maybe save up to pay for the remaining credits for her degree at another culinary school … She could see if she could transfer a bunch of her credits over from the academy … if the new school would let her … to avoid having to take and pay for the same classes twice …

“If you do decide to take it,” Anya looked back at her, “I could help with your taxes too … be your accountant. Like I did for Doris. My rates are reasonable and were part of her expenses. And if … you’re conscientious about record keeping … the financial part can be pretty straightforward … once you get the hang of it. I know that part can be overwhelming for a new business owner. But I can help. You wouldn’t be the first new business owner I’ve helped.”

Clarke smiled at her, “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

Anya nodded and packed up her paperwork and the notebooks in her bag.

It … was starting to get late …

The sky was a darker shade of blue beyond the frosted glass windows … and a street light had blinked on somewhere outside the shop …

“Well,” Anya sighed, getting to her feet, “I should be going. The stairs up to the apartment are on that side of the building …” Anya pointed the way, “The round key opens the apartment door. See you tomorrow Clarke.”

And Clarke nodded her thanks and took the coffee mugs to the back to wash them, heard the little door chimes tingle when Anya stepped out.

And she was still washing the cups in the back when the door chimes tingled again.

Clarke dried her hands on a towel and stepped through the swinging door, where a woman in dark blue overalls and with close cropped hair was reaching into her back pocket for her wallet, “I’ll have my usual.”

Clarke blinked at her, “Oh … Sorry. We’re … not actually open.”

The woman gave her a look like Clarke had said, ‘potatoes taste like cotton candy.’

And then glanced at the metal octopus, “I’ll just have my usual …” as if Clarke hadn’t heard her correctly the first time.

And … Clarke felt a pang of pity for the woman …

No doubt she just wanted a cup of that life changing coffee …

Would she sigh and close her eyes the way Anya had when she took that first sip?

Would she have that same expression of total contentment?

How long had she been waiting for that delicious cup of coffee?

“What’s your usual?” Clarke asked.

The woman cocked her head at her, like it was an odd question, “An americano. And an almond biscotti …” she glanced at the empty display case, “Though … I suppose I can do without the biscotti …”

Clarke nodded and went to get a fresh mug from the back.

And then stood before the metal monstrosity …

It took … a while … to figure out how to first get hot water and then a shot of espresso out of the steampunk octopus … to find the other spigots on the sides of the machine.

She knew how to make every variety of hot drink … espressos … lattes … all sort of coffees … all their many incarnations were burned into her brain from her years working as a barista in high school …

And after a few failed tries flipping switches and taste testing the results … she got another clean mug and managed to get it done … slid a damn good americano across the counter to the woman.

The woman handed her a bill, but Clarke shook her head, “It’s on the house. Thanks for your patience.”

The woman gave her a little grin, but left the money on the counter for her, “I insist. But thank you.”

And Clarke watched the woman take a seat on one of the barstools by the counter and take a sip, watched the expression of pure bliss appear on the woman’s face …

And Clarke couldn’t help but smile, felt a little flutter of pride in her chest at a job well done … at the sight of a truly satisfied customer …

Even at the restaurant where she worked in the city, where the food was quite good honestly, she never saw this look of satisfaction on the customers’ faces … not even close …

This was the best coffee in the universe though … so maybe it wasn’t a fair comparison …

“So …,” the woman looked back at her, “You’re Doris’ kin.”

Clarke nodded back at her, “It seems so.”

“You never met her?” the woman asked, looking at her in the same pitying way that Clarke must’ve looked at her earlier.

Clarke shook her head.

“That’s a shame,” the woman sighed, “Doris was one of a kind.”

“Yeah …,” Clarke smiled, thinking of Gus’ insistence on still delivering Doris’ orders, “She seemed to make an impression on people.”

“That she did,” the woman grinned.

“Do you live here in Achewillow?” Clarke asked.

The woman nodded, “Just outside of town. We own the orchard. My wife and I.”

Clarke grinned.

Very pleased to meet another queer woman in this small town.

“What kind of orchard?” Clarke asked.

“Apples,” the woman answered, “We supplied apples to Doris too. For her apple pies and strudels and whatnot … Apple jam too … We make cider as well.”

“Wow,” Clarke raised an eyebrow, “That’s impressive.”

The woman smiled at her, “Thank you. I’m Indra by the way.”

She reached out a hand and Clarke shook it, “Clarke Griffin. Nice to meet you Indra.”

Indra cocked her head to one side, “You … kinda remind me of Doris … I can’t put my finger on what it is exactly … but … Something about you …”

Clarke grinned, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It absolutely is,” Indra gave her a warm smile.

And then … a big … shape … a shadow … outside the window caught Clarke’s eye …

It was getting pretty dark out now … but … the way the shadow was moving … the way the dark shadow was slowly slumping by the frosted window … there was something … unnatural about it … Like … it was dragging something behind itself with heavy, lurching steps …

And it sent a cold shiver down Clarke’s spine …

And then … she saw … the shape of a hand press against the glass … only … the hand was … too big … The fingers were too long … And then … there was a screeching sound … like … nails dragging against the glass …

“What the fuck …,” Clarke whispered.

“Shhhhh …,” Indra said quietly, turned on her stool and watching the shape too.

And they both watched in silence … watched the shape slowly slump by … and then … saw the door handle start to turn …

Clarke sucked in a breath.

But the door didn’t open.

And after a few tries to turn the door handle … the big shadow continued its odd slumping walk past the shop.

After a few minutes of silence … watching to see if the shadow would come back … Clarke let out a breath, “What was that?”

Indra shook her head, “I don’t know. But … I guess I should be getting home.”

She stood up.

“You’re going out there?” Clarke asked, “Alone?”

Indra looked back at her, “You’re staying in here alone?”

Clarke bit her lip.

And Indra gave her a sympathetic look, “If you’d like … we have a guest room at our farmhouse. You’re welcome to stay there tonight.”

“Oh …,” Clarke was genuinely surprised by the kind offer, “Thank you. I’ll be fine here.”

Indra gave her a considering look, “Are you sure? Up to you but … if you’d be more comfortable with people around, you’d be welcome. The guest room upstairs is all made up and everything. My wife is probably making dinner right about now too … if you’re hungry …”

“Oh I …,” Clarke couldn’t believe how nice this woman was being to her … a near total stranger, “Thank you but, I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

Indra smiled, “It’s no imposition really. You’re Doris’ kin, and Doris was a friend of ours. My truck’s out front. I could drop you back here in the morning?”

“You’re too kind,” Clarke smiled and glanced at her suitcase … and I mean … what would it hurt?

She had no idea what kind of state the apartment was in … if it even had a bed … Maybe the place had been cleaned out after Doris had passed away?

And … maybe … yeah … she would probably feel more comfortable with other people around after seeing that big … whatever it was …

“Okay,” Clarke looked back at her, “It … might take me a minute to clean up the coffee machine but-“

Indra waved it away, “No problem. I’ll wait.”

“What kind of coffee does your wife like?” Clarke asked.

Indra gave her a warm smile, “She likes americanos too.”

Clarke got to work on a second americano, poured it into a disposable cup from the stack of disposable cups underneath the counter, and handed it to Indra.

Quickly cleaned up the machine.

Put on her backpack and tugged her rolling suitcase along behind her as she stepped out of the shop.

Locked the door.

And then followed Indra to her truck.

Chapter Text

Indra and her wife Diyoza were great.

Clarke liked them both a lot.

They both had a dry sense of humor that she appreciated.

And Clarke had fun talking to them over dinner … which they let her cook for them when she insisted … and they oohed and ahhhed over her cuisine …

They told her a little more about the town … Answered Clarke’s questions … and asked her questions too …

And when Clarke indirectly asked about whether this town was a welcoming place … open minded … they both agreed that it was …

Said they weren’t the only queer people in town either …

Said that it was a pretty queer little town actually … and that most people were friendly. Easy going.

And Clarke was happy to hear that.

It was a good sign for the town … and for her living there …

She didn’t plan on dating anyone in Achewillow.

But … it was nice to know that the people in the town weren’t close minded or hateful …

Indra and Diyoza’s farmhouse was cozy and welcoming too.

She had a big comfy bed to sleep in that was even nicer than her bed back in her apartment …

The next morning, Clarke whipped up breakfast for her hosts, got to enjoy the beautiful view of their gorgeous apple orchard with a cup of coffee while sitting in a rocking chair on their front porch with their two big friendly dogs keeping her company.

And after experiencing their hospitality, and seeing the cafe, and Anya’s offer to help with the financial side of things the day before, she was ready to give Achewillow the next six months of her life … stay through spring and summer at least to fix her financial situation and get her on the right foot for continuing her education at another culinary school.

And honestly, she could use a break from her life in the city … from the classes she’d been slaving away at for years … from the apartment that wasn’t really hers anymore … the waitressing job where everyone else was happy to take her shifts …

She did feel … a little foolish about being scared by a shadow the day before …

About Indra seeing her scared and offering to take her in …

Living in the city, Clarke was no stranger to seeing dodgy characters … crazy people … homeless people wandering around in pretty bad shape …

She just … hadn’t expected to see someone like that in Achewillow for some reason …

The town was pretty idyllic honestly …

Clarke had that thought as Indra drove her into town in her truck that morning … as she looked out at the beautiful hills and forests surrounding the far edges of the town … the clean streets and people out riding their bikes under the bright blue sky … who waved at Indra’s truck as it passed by …

She could feel the appeal of a town like this … The slower pace of life … The fresh air … The feeling of community …

And when Indra pulled the truck to a stop in front of the cafe … ‘The Achewillow’ … a bunch of the community was standing in a little crowd in front of the door …

More than a dozen people …

Twenty people maybe?

“Well … Looks like the word is out …,” Indra grinned at her.

“Come in,” Clarke grinned back at her, “Let me make you an americano …”

“Oh, there’s a line …,” Indra frowned.

Clarke shook her head, still grinning, “You’re my first customer though. You get special privileges …”

And it felt so good to say that …

This was her business … she could do whatever she wanted …

Indra grinned, “Maybe just this once …”

They got out of the truck and Clarke put on her backpack, got her suitcase out of the back, and they stepped through the crowd standing out front … And … Clarke felt them perk up when she stepped forward to unlock the door …

Felt the air shift behind her … like those 20 people were all leaning in to rush inside after her like a herd of bulls …

Clarke turned around to face them … and they weren’t actually crowding her … but they were watching her … 20 pairs of eager eyes no doubt anxious for their morning caffeine …

Clarke put on a warm smile and looked around at them, “Hello … I’m Clarke. Clarke Griffin … And thank you for coming to support the shop. I … kinda just got here … so … I don’t exactly have any change yet … Or … any baked goods … All I can offer at the moment is coffee and no change …”

Heads nodded.

No one walked away.

Not dissuaded in the least by this information …

Was this the only coffeeshop in town?

The coffee was spectacular though …

“Can you give me 20 minutes?” Clarke asked.

More nodding heads.

“Thank you,” Clarke grinned at them.

Indra followed her inside and locked the door behind them.

And Clarke pulled her suitcase behind the counter and found a shelf for her backpack, and then quickly got Indra set up with an americano at a seat at the counter.

Rushed around wiping down the chairs and tables, putting everything in its place.

Putting out napkins by the register, garbage bags in the trash bins.

Noticed the little fridge under the counter below the steampunk octopus and quickly stocked it with milk, cream, a carton of soy milk and a carton of almond milk.

Loaded the coffee machine with plenty of water and beans and grabbed extra bags of beans from the back … put a bowl of sugar with a spoon beside the machine.

Grabbed a plastic tub from the back for bussing dirty dishes that customers left behind and put it on the counter next to the octopus …

Found a green apron hanging from a hook on a wall in the back and put it on, laid a hand towel over her shoulder.

Rushed to the cash register and quickly got to grips with it …

It was empty of course … but it had a key in the drawer and dinged when she opened it.

She found notebooks and pencils under the cash register … the same kind of notebooks Anya had shown her detailing sales and expenses … and Clarke guessed that was how Doris had tallied what she sold each day so she knew what items were most popular and which supplies to order more of …

The cash register was really more like a big metal safe and change calculator, but the old contraption certainly had character … had swirling designs etched into the steel looked like the leafed branches of the willow tree on the windows …

And in twenty minutes, on the dot, Clarke unlocked the front door.

Customers poured in and Clarke hurried behind the counter to take orders and make them their long awaited coffees … jotting down notes in shorthand in the notebook as she took one order after the next for her records.

Without fail, each and every customer who stepped up to the counter looked at the coffee big machine and asked for “My usual please”.

And each time, Clarke had to ask them what that was.

It was insane of course … them asking her … a complete stranger they’d never seen before for their “usual” …

But … she noticed that the people in line were also exchanging bills with each other … to break down their larger bigger bills into smaller denominations for her since she couldn’t make change, and so everyone could get the coffee they’d came for …

And that was so incredibly considerate of them that she didn’t mind having to ask everyone what their usual was …

And soon she could make change … roughly …

The customers also seemed to be paying her honestly.

She had an idea what each item should cost …

But … she didn’t have to tell them what each item cost ...

Because they just told her how much it cost and handed over their dollars …

And without fail, every person who ordered a particular item told her the same cost for that item and handed over the correct amount to pay for it … plus maybe a few extra for a tip which they separated out from the bill for their drink …

They knew the prices for their drinks … and paid that price … honestly … and without anyone trying to get away with paying less … even though Clarke was obviously new to the town … to the cafe …

Maybe it was a small town thing?

Everybody being honest about payment …

Or maybe no one would dare risk pissing off the one person who could supply their delicious coffee?

The steampunk octopus was … a little temperamental honestly …

More than a little temperamental honestly …

There were … many false starts and redos …

But Clarke was figuring it out, slowly but surely …

And … she had started talking to the metal octopus …

Quiet words of encouragement and gratitude … pleading and begging for cooperation … occasional scoffs when it produced something wildly different than what she had intended … which it did seemingly at random … even when she was certain that she’d followed the same procedure of past successes …

But whatever.

In two hours, she had the morning rush under control …

And looked out with pride at the tables … at the seated customers chatting with each other and wearing big smiles as they sipped their incredible coffee …

She did this.

These were her customers.

Her happy customers …

She took advantage of the breaks between customers and managed to whip up a few batches of peanutbutter cookies to sell, along with her special recipe cinnamon and sugar muffins for those who couldn’t eat peanuts … made some notes in one of the notebooks about what she would bake for the next day based on some of the supplies she’d spotted in the back … emptied a garbage can and put in a fresh bag …

Locked the register and took the bag of garbage out through the swinging door, opened the back door of the shop to the alley and tossed them into one of the two big dumpsters.

Hurried back inside to wash her hands and get prepped for a possible lunch rush … loaded the dishwasher and started it running …

And when she came back to the front of the shop the door chimes tingled and Anya burst in, looking sweaty, and stared aghast at the customers sitting at the tables and drinking their coffees … enjoying their cookies and muffins …

And then marched straight up to the counter … glaring …

And Clarke knew she was in trouble …

“Did you forget to come by my office?” Anya growled.

It wasn’t really a question …

“Oh I … um … was just gonna make a few folks some coffee and …,” Clarke answered sheepishly, “I kinda just … got caught up in it I guess … Kept rolling with it and-“

Anya let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose, chucked her leather messenger bag onto the counter and started frantically pulling files out of it.

“If you’re accepting the inheritance then you have papers to sign …,” Anya grumbled, “So that I can get the permit to operate this business updated and put in your name …”

Anya glanced around the room full of customers, “Your emergency pull in a bunch of favors permit in order for you to be allowed to legally operate this business to-day …”

Clarke bit her lip, “Right … Sorry about that …”

A customer stepped up behind Anya … waiting patiently for their turn to order …

“Umm …,” Clarke glanced at Anya, unsure if Anya would murder her if she served this customer …

Anya glanced at the customer and rolled her eyes, “Cat’s already out of the bag Claire … Get me a coffee too.”

That mistake was definitely on purpose …

And Clarke just let Anya have that one because if she was allowed to screw up by operating an un-permitted business and forgetting to sign the paperwork … then Anya was allowed to call her by the wrong name …

Anya took her messenger bag over to the other end of the counter and started laying out paperwork, and Clarke went to work whipping her up her coffee with milk and two sugars … and a cinnamon apology muffin on a little plate … and a napkin … and a cup of water …

And then got the next customer their usual, after she asked what their usual was.

For the next hour, Clarke bounced back and forth between customers and signing and initialing paperwork with Anya, keeping her mug full of delicious apology coffee … and giving her a peanutbutter cookie … all items dutifully recorded in the notebook so she had an accurate record of her expenditures and so could personally pay to cover the costs to the business …

And finally, Anya shoved all the signed paperwork back into her messenger bag and rushed out of the shop to go get Clarke’s ‘emergency pull in a bunch of favors permit’ … with Clarke calling out her thanks after her …

She really did owe Anya one for doing that …

And Clarke kept up with the lunch rush …

Managed to coax so many perfect coffees and espressos out of the steampunk octopus and heaped praises upon the metal monster for its benevolence …

And that afternoon, two customers came in dressed in matching blue suits … a bald man with a black goatee and a tall pale older woman with features even sharper and scarier than Anya’s …

And unlike literally everyone else, they did not ask for their usual.

“Green tea,” the woman eyed her suspiciously, like she didn’t trust her to boil water correctly.

“Just water for me,” the bald man smiled at her, “And a cookie please.”

Clarke nodded and poured him a cup of water, put a cookie on a plate for him.

Turned to open the tin of green tea that literally nobody had ordered today … but that smelled quite good … and got it steeping in a mug of boiling water …

And out of the corner of her eye … she watched the bald man take the cookie off the plate and put it into a plastic bag that he pulled out of his pocket … which was fucking weird …

Wait …

Were these two … from the town’s permit police or something?

Was that why they were dressed in matching blue business suits?

Was that cookie evidence of her crime of operating an un-permitted business?

Was she going to jail on Day 1 of running the cafe?!?

Clarke slid the mug of hot tea across the counter to the lady who’s expression had only gotten more severe …

And the bald man smiled at her and handed her a bill …

She hesitated to take it … wanted to say it was on the house to avoid trouble …

But the tables were full of customers … She was obviously running a business here …

And then she noticed his cufflink …

His gleaming gold crucifix cufflink … with a little gold Jesus on it and everything …

If she was going to failed business owner jail … then this guy was gonna be taken away by the fashion police any second now …

She took the offered bill and made change.

And the man nodded at her, gave her that smile again, and then … pulled a pen and folded piece of paper out of his suit pocket and unfolded it on the counter …

FUCK!!!

She WAS going to jail?!?

“We’d like to welcome you to town … Miss …,” he raised an eyebrow at her.

Clarke swallowed, “Griffin …”

He dipped his chin at her, and the severe women sipped her green tea, still eyeing her with suspicion …

“Miss Griffin,” the bald man was still smiling at her.

What was happening here …

“We’d like your … assurances …,” he paused, “That while you’re in our town … you won’t by practicing any of the dark arts …”

She heard two customers a little further down the counter snort out a laugh … and it gave Clarke the votes of confidence to know that she was not the crazy one here …

Clarke raised an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

“Witch-craft,” he raised an eyebrow, “Miss Griffin. The consequences of engaging in witchcraft can be considerable …”

Clarke folded her arms, “Who are you again?”

“The Inquisition,” the severe looking woman at his side finally spoke up, still eyeing her suspiciously.

Clarke quirked an eyebrow at her, “Like … the Spanish Inquisition? That tortured people?”

“The very one,” the man smiled at her like this was good news, “Though … our methods have changed …” he glanced down at the document on the counter and the pen in his hand, “For example … us coming to you and merely asking you to sign your name on this document swearing that you won’t be engaging in any of the dark arts in Achewillow … Which benefits you most of all. Your soul.”

Customers were starting to line up behind the two weirdos …

“I’m sorry,” Clarke looked back at them, “But I have other customers I need to help … So if you wouldn’t mind-“

“Please Miss Griffin …,” he looked at her seriously, “Just sign the contract and we can be on our way with this agreement settled between us. If you don’t … as I said … our methods have changed … but they are still effective …”

Everything about these people was rubbing Clarke the wrong way …

Who the hell were they to walk into her cafe and hold up the line making weird demands of her?

She could do whatever the hell she wanted in her own cafe … Even whatever imaginary nonsense these lunatics were accusing her of …

It was truly none of their business whatsoever.

“Are you threatening me?” Clarke arched an eyebrow at him, arms still folded, stance firm.

He smiled and shook his head, “Only financially … Financial ruin and whatnot …”

Clarke shrugged, “Too late. I’m already financially ruined so … Off you go. I have other customers waiting.”

He sighed back at her and put the … ‘contract’ (?) back into his pocket. Handed her a business card that simply said ‘The Inquisition’ and had a phone number, “Call us when you change your mind Miss Griffin.”

“Uh huh,” Clarke said, taking the card and tossing it somewhere under the counter.

“Good day,” he nodded at her and went to take a seat with his grumpy faced companion.

“Don’t mind them,” one of the women seated a little further down the counter grinned at her, “Doris never did.”

And Clarke grinned back at her and helped the next customers, got them set up with coffee and her cinnamon muffins … which the customers seemed to quite enjoy …

And when she finished with the customers at the register, she asked the woman further down the counter if she wanted another latte.

“Please,” the woman smiled at her and slid her cup forward, “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself … I’m Raven. I’m a mechanic here in town.”

Clarke grinned back at her, “I’m Clarke. It’s nice to meet you Raven.”

“Oh I know who you are …” Raven gave her a mischievous grin, “I uh … think you met my wife? Anya?”

Clarke’s eyebrows raised, “Oh … Yeah … She’s … been helping me a lot. I really appreciate it too …”

Raven chuckled, “Sorry if I got you in trouble today. I saw that The Achewillow was open and called her to say we should meet up here for a coffee and-“

Clarke bit her lip, “No … It … was good of you to tell her. I should’ve told her myself … It was my mistake.”

Raven gave her a gentle smile, “Look … Anya can be … kinda intense about this stuff … the details … But it’s ’cause she cares … Like … she cares so much … Sometimes it just takes a little while to see it …”

Clarke grinned back at her and nodded.

“I’m the same way really,” Raven put her hand on her heart, “When it comes to cars … Fixing things … When I’m in the zone. It’s my craft you know?”

Clarke dipped her chin, “I do. I’m the same way about cooking.”

“Looks like you’re off to a good start here,” the woman on the stool beside Raven spoke up with an encouraging smile.

“Clarke, this is Octavia,” Raven nodded at her friend, “Her and her partner Lincoln run one of the farms outside of town.”

“Oh,” Clarke perked up, “Do you know Indra and Diyoza?”

“Of course,” Octavia grinned back, “And not just ‘cause … y’know … ‘small town’ or whatever … We’re close with them.”

“What kind of farm?” Clarke asked.

“Veggies mostly,” Octavia grinned back at her, “But we have some peach trees and apricot trees too …”

Clarke’s face lit up.

“Yeah …,” Octavia chuckled, “Thought you might like that. Doris was a huge fan of all the things you can do with peaches and apricots … Jams … Fruit danishes … Crumbles and cobblers … Caramelized peaches …”

Clarke grinned, thinking of those exact same things …

She and Doris truly had quite a lot in common it seemed …

And Clarke was really wishing she’d gotten to meet Doris …

If would’ve been so nice to a relative in the industry to talk to … someone who had built a life around cooking … Especially given how unsupportive her parents were of her pursuing a culinary career …

Doris would’ve probably cheered her on …

“I’ll bring some samples by for you when they’re getting ripe,” Octavia grinned at her, “See what you think.”

“I’d really appreciate that,” Clarke grinned back.

And then the door chimed again and Clarke was off the help the next wave of customers.

—

Day one at the cafe had been a big success.

She’d had a steady stream of customers all day.

Had made so many coffees for ‘to go’ orders too.

And it was nice … the idea that her coffee was flowing through the veins of this town … powering the people of Achewillow through their day … through their work …

Making their day brighter with the delicious coffee they’d clearly been missing …

She had plenty of cash in the register now too to go to the bank in the morning and get change … so she could break bills the next day too …

And god … it just felt … so good to run this place …

Her place …

Seeing the all the tables full of happy customers … seeing them so pleased as they enjoyed their drinks and the cookies and muffins she’d made …

The way the shop was set up too … Whenever she needed something … had to look for something … it was pretty much always where she expected it to be … Sometimes she’d just reach for something on impulse and find it there …

Doris had clearly been running this shop for a long time … had the space set up in just the right way for things to be conveniently located where they needed to be …

It was still a lot of work running the cafe by herself and trying to whip up more cookies and muffins whenever she had a spare moment, but being a chef wasn’t for the weak.

Being on your feet all day …

The physical labor that went into cooking …

The big mixers in the back certainly helped with that …

But being a cook and even serving coffee all day was physically demanding work.

Clarke was the good kind of tired though when she locked the cafe door that evening.

The kind of tired that came from a job well done.

Was filled with the kind of pride that made cooking such a pleasure …

Though this pride was bigger …

It wasn’t just from the food, the drinks she’d served, it was pride for the whole place … the good vibes that people came here to soak up as they sat at the tables and sipped their drinks and talked to their friends …

She’d made some friends too …

Or … acquaintances she could imagine becoming friends …

There was Indra and Diyoza … and now Raven and Octavia … whose vibes she quite liked …

And who knows … maybe Anya would even become a sort of friend … since she was Raven’s wife … and Raven seemed pretty chill and friendly …

There were those lunatics from ‘The Inquisition’ or whatever …

But she didn’t mind them really.

The other folks she’d met in Achewillow and her happy customers more than made up for them …

And after the shop closed, after loading the dishwasher and wiping down the tables and chairs and booths, cleaning the display case and sweeping the floors, calculating the total sales and locking the register, she took a look through the mountain of supplies in the kitchen. And then sat at the counter with her notebook and pencil.

Putting together the list of creations she would prepare for the next day …

Banana bread.

Blueberry muffins.

Croissants.

Scones with dried cranberries.

Chocolate chip cookies.

Oatmeal cookies.

And cinnamon donuts with fresh grated nutmeg.

Figured out what she would charge for each of them.

And then she went to the back and got to work preparing all the dough for each of her creations in big metal bowls, using the big professional grade mixers on the counter, filling bread pans and cookie sheets with measured out portions so that when she arrived in the morning, she could simply pop them into the ovens so they’d be ready to serve by the time her first customers walked in.

It was … so fun …

Putting everything together … preparing tomorrow’s baked goods in the big kitchen …

Her kitchen …

And of course she had to taste test her creations by actually baking a few of them to make sure they were delicious …

A slice of banana bread, a blueberry muffin, a croissant and a scone weren’t the most nutritious dinner …

But they were absolutely mouthwatering …

And she’d ask someone tomorrow where the closest grocery store in this town was so she could get some groceries for normal meals.

It was well into the night when Clarke slid the last metal pan of croissants into the fridge for baking in the morning and hung up her apron.

She was truly tired now.

But dutifully cleaned up the kitchen.

Pulled the garbage bags out of the bins and took them to the back door, to the dumpster as her last professional act of the day …

There was a light switch on the wall just by the door that turned on two lights in the dark alley … which Clarke appreciated …

Everything about this little cafe was so well thought out …

And when she stepped out into the alley, Clarke lifted the plastic lid on one of the two big metal dumpsters … and screamed when twelve beady black eyes blinked up at her …

Six raccoons … a whole family of raccoons were staring up at her from inside the dumpster …

And one, the biggest one, with a head as big as a damn Rottweiler’s screeched up at her …

Clarke stumbled backwards, dropping the garbage bags …

And then watched as the fluffy masked creatures climbed out of the dumpster and lowered themselves to the ground and … surrounded her …

Clarke didn’t even realize she’d been stepping back till her back hit the brick wall, and the six fluffy gray raccoons formed a half circle around her, chattering excitedly … and blocking her from rushing back to the cafe door on the opposite wall of the alley …

And that big raccoon … it was just … WAY TOO FUCKING BIG …

Was it even a RACCOON?!?

It had a black mask across its eyes like the others … and a fat, fluffy, black striped tail like the others but …

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK …

It was like a short, fat BEAR.

Almost as tall as her hip and  …

And the way they were all looking at her and chattering up at her and moving their little black paws like they were gesturing and-

“Hey …,” Clarke heard herself say out loud, and nervously, “It’s … It’s okay … All good here … How about … you guys just … enjoy my garbage and I’m just gonna …”

She tried to take a step forward, toward the door …

But the closest raccoons screeched at her and then they ALL started screeching at her and chattering even louder and looking at her so insistently and …

Then Clarke heard another sound over their loud chattering …

A deep snort of a breath … like a moose or something … at the back of the alley …

The chattering instantly ceased.

And Clarke watched with wide eyes as a tall shadowy figure slumped forward from the darkness at the back of the alley …

One of the raccoons practically threw itself at the dumpster and hastily crawled inside …

And Clarke’s eyes jerked to the back of the alley again when she heard a sound like a whine? High pitched and grating on her ears …

The raccoons started to lose their minds …

Started hissing and spitting and screeching at the tall shadow, baring their sharp teeth … tails puffed out and backs bristling …

And then Clarke felt a hand grab hers and yank her forward a step and … IT WAS THAT HUGE FUCKING RACCOON’S HAND …

And the other raccoon leapt back from the dumpster and was quickly pouring out the contents of a box of salt in big a circle around her and the other raccoons now surrounding her that were all still hissing and spitting at the big shadow at the back of the alley and …

This was all just … too much …

Clarke tried to make a dash for the door, but the raccoons ALL screeched and she felt small bodies grab her leg and that HUGE raccoon grabbed her other leg and the raccoon with the box of salt started pouring out even more salt on the ground and …

Clarke just stood there, her legs covered with the gripping bodies of hissing raccoons …

And then heard an ear-splitting screech from the back of the alley … followed by a high pitched scream that made her insides feel like trembling jelly and sent a wave of cold panic flooding through her bones …

She could feel the raccoons on her legs trembling even as they hissed at spit and bristled at the shadow … but it stayed just beyond the edge of the alley light … screeching its ear-splitting scream …

And then finally, after what felt like a damn lifetime, the tall shadowy thing slumped away … its screeches getting more and more distant …

Clarke let out a breath …

And felt the raccoons release their hold on her legs …

She looked down at them … and they were all looking up at her …

Started chattering at her more quietly than before … almost … gently?

As if … they were asking if she was alright …

Clarke blew out a breath … and then noticed the box of salt that one raccoon had been pouring out around them …

The corner of the box was chewed open and … it was a box of salt that had definitely come from her cafe … it had the same logos and everything …

Clarke sighed as she watched the raccoons go back into their dumpster ... which was also surrounded by a circle of salt …

Grabbed the garbage bags and threw them into the other big metal dumpster and went back inside.

Locked the door.

Thoroughly washed her shaking hands.

What the fuck was that thing …

What sort of … thing … screeched like that?

Clarke could admit that … she wasn’t a very outdoorsy person … Not at all.

And the town of Achewillow was surrounded by forests … so … of course there would be animals out there …

And hell, if a raccoon could grow to the size of a small bear eating Doris’ garbage … maybe other things in these woods could get huge too?

Then she remembered that shadow from the day before … that too big hand on the window … those too long fingers …

Indra hadn’t known what the hell that was either …

But whatever this thing was, at least it was gone.

Scared away by her furry, hissing saviors …

Or … she hoped it was gone …

Clarke sighed and splashed cold water on her face at the sink and dried her face with her shirt …

She could really use a shower …

And sleep.

Time to check out Doris’ apartment.

Hopefully it still had a bed in it … but she was tired enough to sleep on a pile of her clothes on the floor if it came to that …

She found her wheeled suitcase … put on her backpack …

Tugged her bag out the front door and locked up.

Wheeled it around to the side of the building and made her way up the metal stairs to the second story … lugging her suitcase … using only the light of the moon to see the steps …

Didn’t hear any ear-splitting screams or screeches …

Pulled out her phone and used the flashlight feature so she could get the key into the lock.

Stepped inside … lugging her suitcase over the threshold and reached over to the wall and flipped the light switch that was right where her hand went first and …

Oh wow …

The apartment was … just as Doris had left it …

Still furnished …

There was a little table by the door with a little bowl for her keys and …

Clarke locked the door, set down her backpack, toed off her tennis shoes, and stepped into the space …

It was so cozy …

Homey.

She … probably should’ve expected that … given how cozy the cafe was …

In the living room there was a big dark green corduroy couch with three wide sections and a big ottoman in front of the last section … perfect for putting up your feet after a long day …

The couch cushions and the throw pillows at each end were thick and oversized and … looked just perfect for sinking into or taking a nap on … and there was a velvet crimson blanket laying over the arm rest that suggested that Doris had indeed napped here …

The floors were the same blonde wood as the cafe below … and felt warm under her socked feet …

And there was a big oval rug on the living room floor in front of the couch … rainbow colors … braided … handmade maybe … The outer circle was a deep purple … the next circle in was turquoise … the next circle tan … then white … then orange … then green … then red …

It was cute … whimsical …

Reminded her of the big rainbow rug in her kindergarten class where all the kids sat and listened to the teacher read stories to them …

There was a blonde wood coffee table with coasters on it by the couch …

Two very comfy looking recliners opposite the couch … each with a little table beside it big enough to hold a book and plate and a mug of coffee …

This wasn’t a home for entertaining …

This was a den for relaxing …

And Clarke felt herself relaxing just from standing in the space …

There were a few floor lamps around the room and each one Clarke clicked on cast a warm, inviting glow over the space …

There were a few framed pictures on the walls too … and one in particular caught her eye …

It was black and white … and on the left hand side of the picture was a younger version of Indra and Diyoza, extremely dressed up, with their arms wrapped around each other, kissing … both of them grinning into the kiss … and in the middle of the photo was a table with an incredible 6-tiered wedding cake … tastefully decorated with little frills and designs … and to the right of that cake, wearing an apron, beaming from ear to ear at the camera … was a much older, much rounder, and extremely happy looking version of Clarke … Her hair piled atop her head in a near beehive … her bright beaming smile nearly as magnificent as the cake … And this woman … her eyes sparkled …

So … this was Doris Griffin …

Clarke was smiling just looking at her …

Her eyes got a little watery too.

This woman, Doris, she looked … so damn happy … so damn proud of her cake …

And Clarke knew that feeling so well …

There were other pictures too … Doris with her friends … a beer bottle on the table in front of Doris … her eyes closed, head thrown back in a laugh … her friends sitting around the table grinning at her … and … there were playing card on the table … A big stack of poker chips in front of Doris … Apparently she was a poker player …

This lady looked fun.

The kind of person you just wanted to be around …

The kind of lady you just wanted to hug.

So many of the photos had food in them too …

And in every single photo Doris was with friends … happy … clearly surrounded by love …

And what a gift she had given Clarke … by bringing her to this place … gifting her the cafe she’d clearly poured her heart and soul into … her life’s work …

“Thank you Doris,” Clarke smiled back at a photo of Doris with an arm wrapped around her friend.

The words just came out of her mouth.

And … maybe she imagined it … but she thought the lamps flickered …

There was a bedroom in the back … with a big bed made from two side by side single mattresses shoved close together …

And it didn’t take long to find the sheets and make the bed …

To find the bathroom with a big tub, and some soap and some shampoo under the sink, and a washer and dryer behind two folding doors.

And Clarke was as excited to see the washer and dryer as the bathtub …

No more dragging her clothes to the laundromat.

Clarke plugged in her laptop.

Set up her phone to charge.

Took a long, hot shower.

Put on some pajamas from her suitcase.

Grabbed her phone and made her way to that big, comfy looking couch … let out a groan as she sank into the plush cushions and put up her feet on the big ottoman … felt a wave of utter contentment wash over her …

Just sat there for a while … eyes closed … the couch cradling her like a newborn …

And then blearily looked at her phone.

She set her alarm for the morning.

Made a quick list of things she needed to do first thing tomorrow …

- Pop those trays in the fridges into the ovens to bake.

- Set them to cool and go to the bank to get change for the register.

- Find out where a bank is.

- Set up the shop and open for business.

- Ask someone where the grocery store is.

She texted her boss back in the city that she was gonna be away for quite a while and asked her to give away her shifts to the other waiters …

Texted Finn and said that she was gonna be moving out and would be back before the end of the month to get her stuff.

He texted back a thumbs up.

She considered texting her parents to tell them she’d moved but … that would just open the door to questions that she really didn’t feel like answering … So she put that text on hold for now.

Put her phone on the coffee table and leaned back into the soft embrace of the couch …

Somewhere in this apartment … she knew there was a kitchen too …

Doris’ kitchen …

But … she didn’t want to step in there …

Not yet.

That felt … too personal somehow …

More personal than sleeping in Doris’ bed even …

Tomorrow …

She would check it out tomorrow …

She would … tomorrow …

Chapter Text

Clarke woke up right where she’d fallen asleep … on Doris’ couch.

Though at some point in the night she must’ve fallen over and tugged that velvet crimson blanket from the armrest over herself …

Fuck it was soft …

Her phone buzzed with the alarm she’d set, and Clarke took a quick shower and got dressed.

Made her way downstairs and slipped into the cafe.

It was early.

Quiet.

And Clarke put on her apron and made herself a cup of coffee.

Set about pre-heating the ovens …

Getting the shop and the coffee machine set up for the day …

Popping her trays of cookies and scones and croissants and tins of banana bread and muffins and her special recipe cinnamon donuts into the ovens for baking …

Humming to herself as she worked, setting the timers.

Was humming to herself the whole time.

A smile on her face.

This felt like her real first day honestly.

Where she’d put out the baked goods she’d had more time to think about and craft …

And she couldn’t wait to see what her customers thought of them …

And when the timers dinged … she set everything out on the cooling racks …

Found a bank bag under the register and filled it with cash to take to the bank so she could get rolls of quarters and nickels and dimes in exchange … hopefully enough change to last the rest of the week.

She’d need to set up a bank account for herself and the business at some point too … but that could probably wait a few days.

When she locked up the shop and headed out … there were more people out and about …

And she stopped the first person she saw and they gave her directions to the bank.

Apparently, there was only one bank in town.

But one was all she needed.

And it wasn’t too far away.

Her cafe was pretty centrally located, and as she passed by shops … everything necessary seemed close by … the grocery store … a butcher shop … a pharmacy … a hair salon … a bookstore … a bar … an ice cream shop … even an old fashioned candy shop …

One shop made artisanal candles.

Another shop had a sign that just said … “Insects”?

Maybe … it was some kind of trendy store selling … well … she had no idea what …

But soon enough she found the bank and got her change and was headed back to her cafe … breathing in the fresh air … the sky overhead turning a lighter shade of blue as the morning sun rose over the little town …

A truck bopped its horn at her and then pulled over and parked beside her.

And then Raven stepped out of the cab, “Hey Clarke!”

“Hey,” Clarke grinned back at her, “You’re up early.”

“Car trouble never sleeps,” Raven grinned back, “I have something for you … if you want it.”

Clarke quirked an eyebrow.

And Raven lowered the tailgate of her truck and waved her over.

And when Clarke stepped to the back of the truck, she saw … a bicycle lying in the bed.

“It was Doris’ …,” Raven looked at her with a sad smile, “It … was out in front of the cafe when she passed away … And I just … didn’t wanna leave it out there to the elements. I replaced the break pads and oiled the chain. Thought you might have a use for it?”

Clarke grinned at her, “Raven I … Thank you so much!”

Raven nodded and Clarke helped her pull it out of the back of the truck.

It had a wide comfy seat and a metal basket in front of the handlebars, and Raven showed her the collapsible metal baskets on either side of the back tire that could snap out to hold groceries.

“That’s so cool …,” Clarke grinned at her.

Raven nodded, “Hold on … I’ve got an extra bike lock in the cab … I mean … I doubt you’ll need it here but …”

She returned from the cab and handed her a U-shaped metal bike lock and a key.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Clarke grinned, “This is gonna be super helpful.”

Raven dipped her chin, “Don’t mention it. If you keep it under the metal stairs by your place it’ll protect it from rain pretty well.”

Clarke nodded back at her, “I will. And thanks again.”

Raven nodded back at her and got into her truck.

And Clarke put the lock and her cash bag of change in the basket and biked back to her shop, enjoying the cool morning breeze. Parked it and locked it up under the stairs as Raven had suggested.

Headed into The Achewillow and loaded the register with change.

Put out a tip jar.

Washed her hands and put her apron on and started arranging her baked goods in the display case.

The shop smelled amazing …

Like freshly baked treats and coffee …

Clarke had told herself she would do this for six months but … the satisfaction she got from setting out her baked goods in the display … she could do this for … a while …

When it seemed like a reasonable hour, and when she could see a little crowd gathered outside the frosted glass … some of whom were pressing dollar bills against the window to make their intentions perfectly clear … Clarke opened the cafe.

Customers streamed in and Clarke got to work … whipping up people’s “usual” drinks … though they still had to tell her what that was …

And she was so happy, and proud to watch them order her baked treats to go with their coffee … watching them debate over which one to choose because they all looked so tasty …

And they all were so tasty …

The looks of satisfaction on their faces as they enjoyed her treats … priceless …

After the first two hours or so … after the morning rush had settled … Clarke locked the cash register and headed to the back to pop a few more trays into the oven … set the timers … got the dishwasher started and grabbed the trash bags to take out to the dumpster …

And as soon as she stepped out the back door, she felt something in the air shift …

There was a line of yellow tape stretched across the entrance to the alley … and when she looked to her left … there was a dead body … sitting on the ground … leaned back against the wall … pale and bluish from blood loss … its lifeless eyes staring at her … its chest ripped open and covered in blood … its organs gone … leaving a hollow bloody chest cavity …

Clarke dropped her garbage bags …

Eyebrows raised to her hairline …

“Miss! Miss … You can’t be here!”

Only then did Clarke notice the three men standing across from the body ... one of whom was wearing rubber gloves and a windbreaker that said “Coroner” in bright yellow letters across the back …

And then there was a harried looking man with a beard and wearing a trench coat standing in front of her.

“This … this is my cafe …,” Clarke sputtered weakly, still in shock from the gruesome sight.

The man pursed his lips, “I’m Detective Kane. Marcus. When we finish here … I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Clarke just nodded numbly.

And then turned around and went straight back through the door and locked it … as if to lock the image of that dead body out of her mind …

But … it was too late …

She’d seen it …

The image was burned into her brain …

And good god …

What the fuck had happened to that person …

Clarke blew out a breath.

And then one of the timers on the ovens dinged.

She washed her hands on autopilot.

Put on her oven mitts and pulled out the trays … set her baked good to cool on the cooling trays and … shivered …

She heard the door chimes tingle and went back out to the counter …

Served coffee and handed out her baked treats on autopilot too …

Holy shit …

There was a dead body …

In her alley …

That shadow she’d seen last night …

The screeching …

The terrified raccoons …

What had they saved her from with all that hissing and bristling …

An image of herself eviscerated and gored in that alley flashed in her mind and Clarke shivered again … cold dread flooding through her …

Clarke tried to smile at the customers but … did they know that person?

The … victim?

They had to, right?

This was a small town …

Everyone knew everybody …

Clarke went about her work with mechanical efficiency …

And after who even knew how long, Detective Kane was seated at one of the bar stools at the counter.

Clarke nodded at him to show she knew he was there … and helped customers till there was a pause … and brought him a cup of coffee …

“Thank you,” he nodded at her.

And then looked at her a little more carefully, “Are you ok Miss …”

Clarke swallowed, “Griffin … Yeah I … I just …”

She let out a breath.

“Maybe …,” he glanced around, “If you need a minute, it would be good to close up shop and-“

“No,” Clarke looked back at him, “I … um … need to do normal stuff right now …”

He nodded slowly, still looking back at her, “I’m sorry we’re not meeting under better circumstances.”

“Me too,” Clarke nodded.

“Were you here last night?” he asked.

She nodded again, “Yeah … I was baking …”

“And this is your shop, as you said …,” he looked back at her.

Clarke swallowed and nodded again.

“How late were you here till?” he looked at her carefully.

“I … I don’t know exactly …,” Clarke answered honestly, “Nine or … ten maybe?”

“Can anyone confirm that?” he looked at her, “That you were here last night? Was … anyone with you?”

“Excuse me?” Clarke baulked, “Are you asking if … I have an alibi?”

He sat up a little straighter on his stool.

And Clarke waved a hand out at all the customers at the tables, “Everything they’re eating is my alibi … It takes hours to prep all that stuff …”

“Do you have a permit to run this establishment?”

Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“You just seem a little young to-“ he continued.

“All her paperwork is in order Marcus,” Anya appeared beside him and slapped a document on the counter.

Clarke hadn’t even heard the door chimes tingle … but she’d never been so glad to see Anya …

The detective picked up the permit … started reading it, looked up at her, “And you’re Clarke Griffin?”

“I verified her identity as part of due diligence for Doris’ will,” Anya answered for her, “Jesus Marcus … She just got here two days ago … You think she came to Achewillow and killed someone straight away?”

‘Right?’ Clarke thought.

“She hasn’t even been here long enough to know who needs killing …,” Anya rolled her eyes.

Wait … what?

That … might not be helping …

Marcus, Detective Kane, looked at her again, “Did you see anything? Hear anything last night?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Anya looked at her.

Clarke looked at Kane, appreciating Anya’s protectiveness, but … also understanding the detective’s situation, and wanting to help make sure no one else got hurt, “I didn’t see anything. No … But … I heard … I don’t know … screeching? I … saw a … big shadow … in the alley … when I was … taking out the trash … There was … loud screeching and … the raccoons were scared and … Yeah … the screeching was … really loud … Like a um … I don’t know … like … a dinosaur?”

"Like … a dinosaur …" he looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

Clarke nodded, “Yeah … like … Jurassic Park? Kinda … screeching … I … don’t know a lot about animals …”

He sighed and reached into his pocket, handed her a business card, “If you remember anything else … give me a call.”

Clarke nodded and took his card.

Anya gave him a pointed look.

And Marcus sighed again and got to his feet, and Clarke poured his coffee into a disposable cup and handed it to him.

He nodded at her and walked out the door with it.

And Clarke let out a breath and looked at Anya, “Thank you.”

Anya nodded back at her, “I got here as soon as I could. As soon as I heard … Do you have your phone? Let me give you my number …”

Clarke opened her phone and handed it over, and Anya entered her number and handed it back.

And then Anya pulled a file out if her leather messenger back, “So there’s your permit … and the copies of the documents you signed yesterday … And all the official documentation for the will and the business.”

Clarke put the permit in the file, “Thank you. Really. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Clarke?” Anya looked at her carefully.

“Yeah?” Clarke looked back at her.

“How ‘bout I call in some help …,” Anya said gently, “Give you a break here …”

“I’m okay,” Clarke shook her head.

Anya frowned at her, “I … think I’m gonna call for help anyway … You met Diyoza, right? Charmaine Diyoza? Indra’s wife … She worked for Doris in high school … She can help out.”

And then Anya stepped away from the counter and made a call.

Clarke put the file under the counter and helped a customer, made Anya a cup of coffee too.

And when Anya came back, she nodded at her, “Diyoza’s on her way.”

“Thank you,” Clarke smiled at her and slid her coffee across the counter, “You want a blueberry muffin? A scone? Croissant?”

“A croissant sounds great,” Anya grinned at her.

And … maybe that was the first time Anya had grinned at her?

It felt like a win.

She got her croissant, went back to helping customers, and Anya stayed till Diyoza walked in.

And when she did, Diyoza was carrying a bag of apples in her hand … walked right up to Clarke and squeezed her shoulder, “I’m just gonna wash my hands and put on an apron. I’ll be right back.”

And Clarke grinned at her, nodded at Anya who got up and silently left.

It was sweet of Anya to stay …

That’s what she was doing, staying until Diyoza came to stay with her …

Raven was right.

Anya did care.

And when Diyoza came back, Clarke got her up to speed on the baked goods they were selling, the prices … and they got to work with the lunch crowd.

They were a good team.

There weren’t so many customers that Clarke couldn’t have handled things on her own … but working together made things easier … faster … and did take the pressure of Clarke … Gave her moments of quiet in the back to watch over her baking after she slid the pans into the oven … so she could just sit and … sip coffee and … relax for a little bit …

And Diyoza showed her a few things …

Putting out the gray plastic bin so folks could put their own dirty dishes into it … rather than her cleaning up after them … a few tricks for operating the octopus monstrosity coffee machine … though Diyoza agreed that it did have a mind of its own sometimes …

It was … really nice actually …

Having Diyoza around …

Hell, when she’d gotten kicked out of culinary school, she hadn’t thought to call anyone …

And here she was in this town full of near strangers, and already Anya was looking out for her, Raven had brought her a bike, and Diyoza had shown up at the drop of a hat just … to be there for her …

It warmed Clarke’s heart just to think about it.

The day flew by.

And before she knew it, they were closing up shop.

“You’re a natural kid,” Diyoza grinned at her after locking the front door, “I didn’t think anyone could step into Doris’ shoes but … look at you … You run a tight ship … And those cinnamon donuts are something else …”

“Thank you,” Clarke grinned at her, “And thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem,” Diyoza nodded back, “But you’re not done with me yet. You’re gonna prep for tomorrow right?”

“Yeah …,” Clarke looked back at her.

“I uh … can’t really help with the prep work …,” Diyoza grinned at her, “I … don’t have the magic touch for baking … But I can definitely drink americanos and watch you do it.”

Clarke laughed, “You don’t have to.”

“No, but I’m gonna,” Diyoza grinned at her, “I’m gonna whip up an omelette for dinner with your eggs. You want one?”

Clarke nodded at her, “Please.”

—-

Diyoza’s omelets were quite tasty, and true to her word, after they cleaned up the place, she sipped americanos while Clarke prepped her baked goods for the next morning.

And they talked while Clarke worked.

“So how you feeling?” Diyoza asked as Clarke prepared her croissants.

“Better,” Clarke nodded.

“There’s gonna be more patrols …” Diyoza looked at her, “The town doesn’t take this kinda thing lightly. And maybe better to not be out too late … Or not go out alone too late anyway …”

Clarke nodded, “I’m pretty busy here honestly. Don’t really need to go out much except to the grocery store. And then upstairs to sleep … Well … and to the dumpsters …”

She looked at the back door, and shivered at the thought of that body.

“Did you meet the raccoons yet?” Diyoza grinned.

Clarke snorted, “Yeah … They scared the bejeezus outta me … And then … that other thing scared me even worse …”

“The raccoons take a little getting used to … Can’t argue with that,” Diyoza nodded back at her, “They freaked me out too when I started working here back in the day … But they’re harmless. Excitable … but mostly harmless …”

Clarke nodded as she rolled out her croissants.

“You said … the other thing?” Diyoza looked at her curiously.

“Have you seen it?” Clarke asked, “That … screeching thing?”

Diyoza’s forehead furrowed, “Can’t say that I have … But … this isn’t the first time-“

Clarke’s eyes shot to her.

“This is the fourth body,” Diyoza looked back at her, “Over the last four months. I’m not saying that to scare you. I’m saying it because … well, it’s the truth. We thought we had it solved … but … it looks like … not yet. Meantime, everyone is keeping an eye out. Patrols … Buddy system when we’re out after it gets dark …”

Clarke looked back at her, “Four people though? This … isn’t that big of a town …”

Diyoza nodded, “It wouldn’t matter if we had a million people here. Four is four too many.”

Clarke nodded slowly at that.

How many people got hurt or killed in her city each month? Each day even …

Car accidents …

Muggings …

Other violence …

She didn’t even know how many …

And that was the thing …

In a big city, you didn’t have that tight knit community so that everyone did care when something happened to someone …

But here … because everyone knew everyone … when something happened to someone … everyone knew … and … everyone cared …

“What is it … the … thing that did this …,” Clarke looked her in the eye, asked point blank.

Diyoza cocked her head, “Some people think it’s a bear.”

“Is that what you think?” Clarke asked.

Diyoza looked back at her.

“‘Cause … It didn’t sound like a bear … I don’t think,” Clarke looked at her.

“I don’t think … that a person would … do what happened to them,” Diyoza looked back at her.

And for some reason, those two people she’d met before, the Inquisition, popped into her head.

“What about … the Inquisition …,” Clarke lifted her chin, “In the Spanish Inquisition … they tortured people right? Killed people …”

Diyoza just laughed, “Nia and Pike? They’re harmless …”

“That guy’s name is Pike?” Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“Charles Pike,” Diyoza grinned at her, “They’re just … weird missionaries really … Holy crusaders … They’re odd. I’ll give you that. They creep around crime scenes too. But … it’d be dumb to creep around crime scenes if they were the ones doing the criming … Lots of amateurs sleuths out there … They just have a more Jesus-y flavor …”

Clarke nodded at that, feeling a little better about them.

Diyoza hung out with her until she had all her baked goods for the next day prepped and in the fridge.

And then Diyoza nodded at the trash bags by the backdoor, “Should we take those out?”

“Oh I … uh … was gonna do that tomorrow …,” Clarke looked back at her, “In the day time.”

Diyoza nodded slowly looking back at her, and then folded her arms, “Did I tell you I was a Marine?”

Clarke’s eyebrows raised, “No …”

Diyoza grinned at her, “Yup. Straight outta high school … So … if you wanted to go out there … with an ex-Marine … we could take out the trash together …”

Clarke pressed her lips together.

She had to go out to the alley eventually …

Either now or in the morning …

And … with someone did sound better …

“Okay,” Clarke nodded back at her.

They grabbed the trash bags, flipped on the switch for the outside lights, and headed out to the alley …

Clarke couldn’t help but look at where the body had been … but there was no trace of it now …

And Diyoza stepped over to the dumpster with her when they tossed the bags in.

It was quiet in the alley.

No big scary shadow …

No screeching …

No raccoon chaos …

Diyoza lifted the lid on the second dumpster and grinned into it, “Hello you fat bastard …”

And the huge raccoon made a chirping sound up at her.

Diyoza looked at Clarke, “That’s not a slur …”

And then she held up her hand for Clarke to see, “It’s a nickname I gave him when he nipped my hand …”

And Clarke could see the two pale circles on her hand … puncture marks …

“Or maybe …,” Diyoza frowned, “It is a slur? Huh … maybe I should just call him … a ‘bastard’? … Or … hmm … Maybe that’s kind of a slur too? Maybe … huh … I’ll have to workshop it …”

And she looked so concerned about her word choice for the raccoon that Clarke couldn’t help but laugh.

“Let me know if you come up with a better name for him,” Diyoza winked at her.

“I will,” Clarke grinned.

And Diyoza followed her back into the shop.

Locked the door.

And they both washed their hands and dried them.

“Give me your phone …,” Diyoza looked at her, “So I can give you my number … And Indra’s number …”

Clarke smiled at her, unlocked her phone and handed it over.

Watched Diyoza enter the numbers.

“Who else do you know in town?” Diyoza asked as she typed with her thumbs.

Clarke shrugged, “No one else really … Anya gave me her number … Oh … and I know Raven a little … She … gave me a bike today …”

Diyoza grinned at her and pulled out her own phone, “I’ll give you her number too then …”

And … Clarke couldn’t help but be pleased to have a few local numbers to call in case something happened … Some new friends in her phone …

“Thank you,” Clarke smiled at her, “Really. For everything. I’m so glad you came.”

“Happy to,” Diyoza grinned and handed her phone back, “I’ll walk you around to your stairs to make sure you get in alright.”

“What about you?” Clarke asked.

“My truck’s out front,” Diyoza grinned, “And I’m an ex-Marine … So …”

“Right,” Clarke grinned, “Not a soft baker …”

“Don’t sell yourself short Kid,” Diyoza winked at her, “Give you a rolling pin? I bet you could do some damage …”

Clarke bit her lip to hide her smile …

But … it was kinda true …

Kneading dough for hours … the physical work she did … she was strong as hell … underneath her layer of padding from being a damn good chef who made meals for herself …

And … now that she thought about it … she did have a lot of knife skills …

Not … for stabbing or whatever …

But she could handle a knife …

Hell, maybe she should just grab a knife if she ever felt scared to go out into the alley at night …

God knew she had some sharp as hell knives in the kitchen …

They locked up.

And Diyoza walked her around the side of the building to her stairs and told her to sleep well.

“I will,” Clarke grinned back, “And tell Indra I’ll start making almond biscotti for her next week … for loaning you to me for the day …”

Diyoza laughed, “She’ll be thrilled. ‘Night Clarke.”

“See ya’,” Clarke grinned back and made her way up the metal steps to the apartment.

Unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Let out a breath and closed and locked the door.

Toed off her shoes.

Already feeling better just from being home …

Or … in Doris’ cozy home …

She took a shower.

Put on her pajamas.

And then … wandered over to … where she strongly suspected the kitchen was … flipped on the light switch and … it was something …

A big kitchen …

Maybe … too big for the apartment this size honestly …

But …

For a chef?

It was absolutely perfect.

Spacious and … glorious …

Had a fancy gas stove and oven.

A nice fridge.

Counters right where you wanted them and just the right size to provide convenient work surfaces …

A movable wooden kitchen island in the center of the kitchen to provide another work surface, with its wheels locked in place at the bottom to keep it from moving.

And above it copper pots and pans hung from a ceiling rack …

The kitchen had a little table and seating area at the back by the window so your guests could talk to you while you cooked …

And a butcher’s block of high quality, well sharpened knives sat on the counter … and a whetstone to keep them sharp …

There were dishes in the cabinets that looked like they were from the 1950s …

A drawer with tins for baking bread, muffin tins, cookie sheets, a high quality mixer on the counter, everything a serious cook would want. Even a nice blender. Alongside an ancient looking stone mortar and pestle.

And there was a pantry with a floor to ceiling shelf of dry goods and spices and ingredients on one side … and the other two sides of the pantry … the other two floor to ceiling shelves were filled with a veritable library of cookbooks …

But one row of cookbooks was … different than the rest …

Clarke reached for one of them.

It didn’t have any words on the cover … or on the spine …

It was thick as a bible and bound in leather …

And when Clarke opened it … she sucked in a breath …

These were Doris’ recipes … handwritten …

And there were so many recipes in there …

No table of contents …

No clear order to them it seemed …

No rhyme or reason to the way they were organized.

But there was a bookmark every dozen pages or so …

And they were overwhelmingly recipes for baking …

For the kinds of breads and pastries and cookies and cakes and confections that could be sold at a place like The Achewillow …

And as soon as Clarke figured out what this book was, it became the most precious things she owned.

She quickly figured out that these books weren’t just Doris’ recipes either …

There were recipes and notes in the margins from what looked like … a half dozen women …

And Clarke knew instantly …

These recipes … these books … were from her ancestors … From at least a half dozen Griffin women who had come before her …

Bakers, chefs like her …

Clarke could cry …

She was crying as she turned the pages … skimming through the names of one delicious sounding recipe after the next …

Cooking … it was in her blood …

In her bones …

And this was the proof.

Her parents just … didn’t have those genes or whatever … didn’t understand …

But these women, these long lost ancestors, they understood.

Clarke closed the book and hugged it to her chest.

Like she’d just found her real parents …

“Thanks Doris,” Clarke said quietly, “I needed this today.”

And the kitchen light blinked.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Clarke woke up well rested in the big bed.

Feeling better.

Steady.

Stronger.

She took a shower and got dressed.

Made her way downstairs and glanced at her bike.

She really should get some groceries today …

She’d lived here … four days and was still mainly eating out of the cafe?

That wouldn’t do.

She’d bike over to the grocery store after closing time …

Stock the apartment’s fridge and do the prepping at the cafe for the next day after that.

Hell …

She was the boss.

She could close during the quieter part of the day and go to the grocery store then …

She could go to the grocery store literally whenever the hell she wanted …

And the thought was liberating.

Even though … she wasn’t gonna go right now …

Because she had things to put in the oven for the morning rush and to set out for cooling …

And had to doublecheck that she had enough change in the register in case she needed to go to the bank …

Oh … and she needed to set up a bank account in town at some point …

But still … she was the boss …

And they day went smoothly.

Mostly …

She found the bag of delicious red apples Diyoza had brought the day before and munched on one for breakfast and made herself an omelette as she waited for her cookies to bake that morning.

Prepped the display case.

Customers came and enjoyed her coffee and baked wares as usual …

Raven and Octavia dropped by and chatted with her …

Anya came by as well … with someone else that it looked like she was talking business with …

Even the detective, Marcus Kane, came by and got some coffees and some of her cinnamon donuts to go …

A handful of people in white robes also came in … all together …

Their “leader” said his name was Bill … asked her to call him Bill … and ordered a half dozen cups of green tea and 40 croissants … And his white-robed companion, who introduced himself as Bellamy, carried the huge box of croissants over to a table with their white robed friends.

Indra dropped in too for her americano … and when Clarke asked her about the people in the white robes … she said they were the Cloud Cult.

“The what?” Clarke looked at her.

Indra grinned, “There’s a big cloud at the edge of town. It’s always there … above one of the big hills. They worship it.”

Clarke quirked an eyebrow, “They worship … the cloud?”

Indra sipped her americano and shrugged, “There’s worse things to worship … And the Cloud Cult are a pretty friendly bunch. I don’t think I’ve ever heard about anyone having any problems with them … To each their own y’know.”

Clarke nodded, “Is it … okay to call them a ‘cult’?”

Indra grinned, “That’s what they call themselves.”

“Huh …,” Clarke looked back at her.

Okay … that was … interesting …

But if Indra said they were friendly then … well … then they probably were.

She closed up shop at the end of the day …

Called Anya about taking some money from the register for personal groceries and asked how that should work for the record keeping. And Anya talked her through just writing down the amount and them setting up a meeting to discuss how Clarke wanted to structure the way she paid herself from the business … salary and income taxes and whatnot … A meeting Clarke agreed to instantly and thanked her for and told Anya that she definitely wanted her to be her accountant … which Anya agreed to.

And Clarke was just hanging up the call when she saw the swinging door open and before she could scream she watched a raccoon amble past her, open the display case, remove two cookies, close the display case, and then waddle back to the swinging door without even glancing in her direction …

“Hey!” Clarke called out.

The raccoon slowly turned, holding the cookies in its little paws and cocked its head at her ... as if to say, ‘Yes?’

“You can’t just …,” Clarke sputtered, “How did you get in here?”

She sighed, “Why am I talking to a raccoon?”

The raccoon blinked up at her, and then … lifted its little paw and … waved at her?!?

And then it turned and waddled through the swinging door …

Clarke swallowed … and then followed it through the swinging door … watched it walk out the back door, somehow close it … And before Clarke could even reach the back door to lock it, she saw the lock turn on its own … as the door was locked … from the outside? BY THE RACCOON?!?

Did it have A KEY?!?

Is THAT how they got the salt?!?

Clarke sighed.

Okay … and now she needed a locksmith …

She pulled out her phone and searched for a locksmith in Achewillow … but of course there was nothing because Achewillow was just a name on the map according to the internet …

She texted Anya asking if she knew of a locksmith to change a lock, and Anya texted back that she’d send someone over and asked how many locks needed changing …

And Clarke figured … well …

If four people had had their guts ripped out by some unknown monster then … all the locks … Front door, back door and her apartment lock too.

She texted back to let Anya know that it would be three locks, two for the cafe and one for her apartment … And Anya said she’s send an approved contractor …

Clarke sighed and headed to the register to get some cash …

Groceries …

Forget the raccoons …

Forget the murders …

She needed fruits and veggies in her home fridge … and a diet that wasn’t entirely coffee and baked treats …

—-

The next day, Clarke was busily running the cafe … handing out coffees and treats for the biggest morning rush she’d had yet … and then the door chimes tingled …

She put a little sugar in a freshly made mug of coffee for a customer and then turned around to see … THE hottest woman she had ever seen in her life …

Just standing there inside the door of her cafe …

A woman with wavy chestnut brown hair tied back in a long ponytail … wearing a flannel shirt and jeans and work boots … all tan and tall and … that jawline … those cheekbones … She looked strong too and- 

Fuck …

Clarke nearly dropped the mug …

Hissed as hot coffee spilled on her hand and quickly got a napkin and rinsed her hand in the sink … slid the mug across the counter to the customer …

And then rushed over behind the register as the hottest woman EVER approached the counter …

“Are you Clarke?”

Clarke’s whole body shivered at the sound of her voice …

It was like velvet on her ears …

Low and quiet … but confident …

And her eyes … they were SO GREEN …

Gorgeous …

She was so …

Oh my god …

“Yeah …,” Clarke rasped out.

And then cleared her throat a little …

The woman’s green eyes sparkled back at her, and her beautiful lips curved into a little grin.

And Clarke felt her knees buckle a little …

What was happening to her?!?

“I’m Lexa … Your approved contractor …”

Yeah you are …

“Anya sent me?” Lexa’s perfect eyebrow raised, “To change the locks?”

Oh right …

Talking …

She was … ‘sposed to say words to this goddess …

Out loud words …

The goddess placed a leather satchel on the counter that Clarke hadn’t even noticed she was holding …

“Yes!” Clarke burst out of her haze.

And then blushed furiously …

That word was … too loud …

Inside voice Clarke …

Jesus … get it together woman …

The cafe had gone quiet …

The customers were all looking at her now …

And … the goddess was looking at her too …

Lexa …

Her name was Lexa …

“There’s … um …,” Clarke gestured at the wall behind her, “A door back there … And the front door … And … the door to my apartment … upstairs …”

Lexa’s grin arched a little higher, “Perfect.”

Clarke’s heart fluttered in her chest …

That sexy little grin …

Was she …

Was this woman …

FLIRTING WITH HER?!?!

Oh my god …

“May I have your keys?” Lexa asked gently.

Clarke jammed her hand into her pocket and slid them across the counter to her …

Would’ve slid her wallet over too if Lexa had asked …

Would have given her … anything she asked for …

“Thanks Clarke,” Lexa winked at her, taking the keys.

Fucking winked at her …

And then walked around the counter with her bag and through the swinging door to the back … with Clarke’s eyes trailing after her …

She … might have to shut down the cafe for a while … to … watch Lexa work …

To watch Lexa work … with her hands … to change the lock …

Clarke felt a drop of sweat slide down her neck …

Looked out at all of her suddenly very unwelcome customers …

But … they looked so happy drinking her coffee and eating her food …

And … it would be weird right?

If … when Lexa came to change the front door lock … everyone was gone …

And if Clarke was just standing there … staring at her as she changed the lock … watching her hands …

Clarke shivered again.

Coffee …

She would … go offer Lexa a coffee …

This was a coffeeshop …

And that was a normal thing to do … getting someone coffee in a coffeeshop …

A customer was standing at the counter but Clarke just raised a finger and walked through the swinging door to the back and-

Froze.

Lexa had taken off her flannel …

She was wearing a tank top …

Was crouched down by the side of the open back door …

Her tan arms were covered in muscles …

She had tattoos …

A big swirling tribal tattoo on her left arm and-

Lexa’s eyes were fixed on the lock …

Her deft hands were unscrewing something with a screwdriver and … the way the motion made Lexa’s forearm muscles flex …

Clarke swallowed thickly.

And then Lexa noticed her.

Gave her a little grin, “Everything okay?”

“More than okay …,” Clarke heard herself answer quietly.

The goddess was still looking at her, still grinning at her.

“Just … wondering …,” Clarke heard herself say, “Did you want … a coffee?”

Lexa’s grin arched a little higher, her green eyes sparkling back at her, “Maybe after … If I do a good job …”

Clarke’s whole body shivered again …

Like … visibly …

And … it was so hot in the kitchen all of a sudden …

She … had to leave this place immediately before she said something crazy … or … did something crazy … like … tackle Lexa to the ground and try to make out with her …

“Okay!” Clarke announced and whirled around, marched straight out the swinging door … breathing heavy for some reason?!?

She helped other customers, got her breathing and pounding heart under control …

Got her already fantasizing mind under control … -ish …

She … was not gonna make this weird …

She was not going to sexually harass the first person who had ever worked for her in a professional capacity …

She was just gonna … feel Lexa out … METAPHORICALLY!

To … see if … Lexa … maybe … wanted … someone to feed her three incredible meals every day for the rest of her life …

An image flashed in her mind of holding out a bite of something delicious to Lexa and … Lexa looking at her with those beautiful green eyes and … taking a grinning bite and … her beautiful lips sliding down the tines of the fork and … her beautiful jaw muscles flexing as she chewed and … What would Lexa like to eat? What would … she like to watch Lexa eat … What were Lexa’s tastes like … What … did Lexa taste like …

“Is it ready?” a customer looked at her from across the counter, and then added helpfully, “My coffee?”

Clarke startled.

Had just been standing there apparently … staring off into space with an empty coffee mug in her hand imagining feeding Lexa for … who even knew how long …

“I’m sorry,” Clarke put on her best work appropriate smile, “Remind me your order?”

—-

Tragically, Clarke hardly got a chance to watch Lexa change the front door lock …

And then Lexa left to go change her apartment lock and … was gone for quite a while …

So long that Clarke started to worry that Lexa had left without saying goodbye or even getting her money which … would be another tragedy because … once she paid her then Lexa wouldn’t be her employee anymore and …

The door chimes tingled as Lexa walked back into the shop without her bag.

Took a seat on one of the barstools by the counter.

And Clarke finished up helping customers and then headed over to her.

“Here are your new keys,” Lexa slid them across the counter, “The round ones are the apartment keys. Two for each door. If you need extra copies … I can do that.”

“Two is fine,” Clarke looked back at her, “I only need one actually.”

Lexa bit her lip, “You should always have two Clarke … One that you give to someone else … in case you get locked out … so there’s always someone you can call if … you need it …”

‘You better be flirting with me,’ Clarke thought, ‘Or … start choosing your words WAY MORE carefully because … you are WAY TOO HOT and I am REALLY struggling here and … There’s only so much I can take …’

“I’m new in town, so I don’t know many people yet,” Clarke looked back at her.

And Lexa glanced around at the customers, “Not for long I’m sure …”

“Can I get you that coffee?” Clarke asked, “Something to eat? We have … or … I have … Blueberry muffins … Cranberry scones … Banana bread … Croissant? A cinnamon donut? On the house.”

Fall in love with my food … then me …

Lexa’s green eyes sparkled back at her, “I love cinnamon … Thank you. And maybe a coffee? Milk and sugar? That’s my usual …”


Clarke nodded and got to work.

Came back with a warmed up donut and a delicious mug of coffee for her.

“Thank you,” Lexa smiled, “I also changed the lightbulbs …”

“Lightbulbs?” Clarke raised an eyebrow.

Lexa nodded, “On the side of the building … There’s one on the brick wall on the lower level … It turns on automatically at night. And there’s another motion sensor light upstairs by the apartment door … so you don’t trip on the steps. They’d burned out. But they’re both working now.”

“Thank you,” Clarke grinned back at her.

She’d feel so much safer with those lights working at night.

She watched Lexa take a sip of her coffee …

And the look of satisfaction on Lexa’s face … the pure bliss … her little groan …

Hot …

She’d … like to see that look on Lexa’s face for other reasons …

Hear her groan like that for other reasons …

Clarke politely excused herself to the register to take a few orders, giving Lexa a chance to eat her donut, and then prepared a few coffees and handed out baked treats to her customers …

And then came back to the counter to check on Lexa as quickly as humanly possible.

Clarke placed her hands on the cool counter between them … to remind herself it was there and stop herself from lunging at this woman …

“So … approved contractor …,” Clarke asked, “What does that mean?”

She … really didn’t have much information about Lexa to work with here …

Lexa nodded back at her, like she had expected the question, “Well … for this place … it means local materials only … Made by an approved craftsman … to stay consistent with the style of this historic building.”

“Consistent … door locks?” Clarke asked.

Lexa nodded, “Consistent everything.”

Clarke quirked an eyebrow, “But … I have gas stoves and ovens … and a microwave …”

“Just external consistency,” Lexa answered, “External doors and walls and lights … The town takes care of those … You don’t owe me anything either.”

Clarke swallowed, “So … you don’t work for me?”

“Not exactly,” Lexa grinned at her.

“Huh …,” Clarke looked her in the eye, ready to pounce.

“Would you maybe … wanna go to the movies on Friday?” Lexa looked at her, “They’re doing classic film Fridays and-“

Clarke’s eyebrows raised, her heart fluttering with excitement.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa sighed and closed her eyes, but she was grinning too, like she was embarrassed, “I don’t know your situation … And … I don’t normally ask out strangers … And I’m taking a huge risk here because your coffee is the best in town and that’s the best donut I’ve had in forever … I just …”

Lexa opened her beautiful green eyes, that looked back at her all sparkly, “You’re just so cute in that apron …”

Clarke blushed, a full blush from head to toe.

“And …,” Lexa hesitated, “The way you handle things around here … running a new business and everything … And it’s so busy already … I bet you deserve a night off?”

Clarke leaned forward a little, gave her a firty smile, “What if we got hungry? Before the movie? Would you maybe wanna come over for dinner first?”

“Just let me know what time,” Lexa grinned back at her, and then reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card, slid it across the counter to her.

It just said:

                 Lexa

                 Problem Solver

Followed by her phone number.

“Problem solver?” Clarke grinned at the card.

Lexa nodded, “I kinda do a little of everything. Builder, electrician, gardener, plumber … locksmith … Whatever needs doing really. You know what it’s like I’m guessing … Small business owner in a small town …”

“Smart,” Clarke grinned back at her.

Lexa stood up, slid her empty plate and mug across the counter to her, “Thank you for the coffee and donut …”

And then she gave her a shy smile, “They were absolutely delicious Clarke. The nutmeg in the donut … It’s pure magic.”

Lexa’s palette had detected the nutmeg …

She knew what nutmeg was …

Clarke was smiling so damn big, her heart pitter-pattering in her chest as she watched Lexa step out of the cafe.

A smile that lasted the rest of the day, through her trip to the grocery store on her bike, and as she walked down the aisles thinking about what to cook Lexa given what was fresh and available at the local grocery store.

And after prepping her baked goods in the cafe that night, when she took out the garbage, she even told the raccoons that she had a date with Lexa and gave them some extra treats.

They chirped up at her excitedly.

And she decided that the second dumpster belonged to them.