“Makayla?” Her voice sounded strange. I sat up straight, on full alert now. “No, it’s okay. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just that . . . Can you come over to the café? Someone’s broken in and they’ve torn up the place. Jay’s here, but we need help.”
“You were robbed? Have you called the police?” I was already heading for the bathroom, phone in hand.
“Yes, they’ve been here and gone. They asked some questions and made out a report. That’s about it. I can’t tell for sure, but I don’t think anything was stolen.”
I used my free hand to load my toothbrush with toothpaste as I spoke. “Okay. I’m on my way. I’ll bring Trey with me.” Hanging up, I did a quick brush and turned the shower on full force. As the water heated, I headed down the hall to rouse Trey. I stopped just inside his door. It did my heart good to see him back in his own bed. His breathing was deep and punctuated with little snores. “Trey,” I said, rubbing the tuft of brown hair peeking out from the covers. He was wrapped up in his blankets like a mummy. He always was a hard sleeper. “Trey?”
For a brief second, his eyelids parted, but then his eyes rolled back and closed again. I shook him and patted his face. “Trey! Get up. Makayla needs our help.”
*
I HAD NO idea just how much she needed our help until about a half hour later, when Trey and I walked through the bashed-in back door of Espresso Yourself. Tables were overturned, chairs broken, artwork torn off the walls. But behind the counter was the real mess. Containers of coffee and loose tea overturned and spilled on the floor and counter, packages of napkins ripped open and coffee mugs broken. Next to me, Trey shook his head and asked, “Who would do this?”
Good question. The whole thing seemed so senseless. And undoubtedly costly. Sure, insurance would most likely cover the cost of missing or destroyed items, but there was no accounting for the time and emotional costs of such a malicious act.
I heard some noise coming from the kitchen and hurried back to find Makayla and Jay sweeping up shards of glass and piles of dumped flour and spices. I crossed the room and pulled Makayla into an embrace. “I’m so sorry. Any idea who would have done something like this?”
“No idea,” she responded, fiddling nervously with her apron strings. “I’d just got here and noticed the back door was ajar. I could tell it’d been forced open, so I called the police.”
“Then she called me,” Jay added. He must have come over as soon as Makayla called. He wore a hooded sweatshirt over plaid pajama bottoms and loafer-style slippers.
“What time was that?” I asked.
“Must have been a little before five,” Makayla answered. “I usually come in around then to start my baking.”
“Nothing’s missing?”
She shook her head. “Not that I can tell. Thankfully, there wasn’t much money here. I took in a deposit after closing yesterday. All I had on hand was enough change to open up this morning.”
Jay tenderly placed his arm around her shoulders. “I’m just glad you didn’t run into these lunatics. I couldn’t bear it if anything ever happened to you.” He swallowed hard, obviously shook up. “I’m getting a security system installed today.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Makayla protested. “It’s too expensive. And I can’t afford one right now.” She looked around, her features falling as she seemed to shrink into herself. “Especially after all this,” she whispered.
Trey took a deep breath and stepped up. “How about Mom and I start out front? I remember how everything goes from when I used to work here. We’ll get it whipped back into shape, I promise.”
Makayla started nodding, pressing her trembling lips tightly together. After taking a quick swipe at her cheek, she looked up with bright eyes. “Just don’t know what I’d do without y’all.” We hugged again, and this time when we pulled apart, she took a ragged breath and straightened her shoulders. “But first things first. I’m going to put some coffee on, ’cuz if y’all are going to help me tackle this mess, you’ll need to fuel up.”
The air instantly seemed lighter. Jay smiled and clapped his hands together. “Now, that’s a good idea.”
We all kicked it into gear: Makayla brewing up some motivation, Jay going back to sweeping up flour, and Trey and I sweeping clean enough floor space out front to start flipping tables and chairs back into position. In short order we all had steaming mugs of bold breakfast-brew coffee close at hand while we dug into the mess. Soon, the aftereffects of last night’s whiskey and words were dissipated with the generous jolts of caffeine and my desire to help my dearest friend.