one.

BELLINA

The cool spring morning begins as any other. Bellina removes the filter cloth from the mouth of her Chemex, dumps the brewed grinds into the compost bin, and pours the steaming coffee into a mug. It's an effort she endeavors every day. Cradling the mug to her chest, she crosses the tiny one-bedroom cabin to the back screen door and lets herself out on the porch. Her eyes scan the snowy peaks in the distance as the sun crawls over them.

Her favorite part of the day is right here. Setting onto her wood rocker, she sips her coffee and watches the sun bring light to Mountaintop, the small town she has called home for several years now. The pines, dogwoods, and evergreen trees turn a vibrant, emerald green in the rays of sun and birds chirp their joy all around. She admires the buds forming along the dogwoods' delicate branches.

A shrill alarm sounds from inside the house. Sighing, Bellina finishes off her coffee and returns inside to silence her cell phone alarm. She tidies up the kitchen and then heads out to her ancient Jeep Wrangler. Even after driving the old beast for a few years now, hauling her five-foot self into the driver seat never gets easier. She cranks the engine and heads out of her driveway and towards town.

Mountaintop is mostly quiet at this time of day. A few other merchants, like Tilly at the antiques store, are also opening their shops for the day. Bellina parks behind the cafe and lets herself inside. She moves through the darkness with familiarity until she reaches the light switch in the kitchen. Fluorescent beams illuminate the commercial-grade, stainless steel baking appliances. A quiet hum builds in her throat as she floats about the shop, turning machines on and gathering supplies for cookies and scones for later.

At eight o'clock sharp, Bellina emerges from the kitchen to turn on the lobby lights and unlock the door. She returns to the counter and turns on the coffee machines and the milk frother. The cafe door swings open, triggering the door bell. She lifts her face and steps into view of the customer.

"Good morning, Mr. Freddy," she greets the familiar older man.

"Mornin', Belle." He shuffles over to his usual table by the window, leaning more heavily on his cane than usual.

Bellina notices with a frown. "Will it be the usual?" she asks him.

"That's it. And a scone, if you have any. Please."

She smiles. "Of course. I'll be right out."

After making his cappuccino and grabbing a cinnamon scone, Bellina carries the items to Freddy's table. He smiles tiredly at her and slides a ten-dollar bill across the table.

"I'll be right back with your change," she says as she does every time, slipping the bill into her apron.

"Don't even think about it," he replies, as usual. He looks down at the froth in his mug and a grin lights up his wrinkled face. "A heart? How sweet, my dear. You know how to make an old man's day."

Her lips pull back in a kind smile. "How are you doing today? Is your health okay?"

He chuckles. "When you're my age, health is never really okay but you just gotta learn to live with it. I'm just glad I can still walk down here and back."

Though his answer doesn't please her, she squeezes his shoulder gently and returns to the kitchen. A few more customers trickle in as the morning goes on. Mountaintop Cafe has the fastest public wifi in town, so many of her customers come primarily to use the internet. She is more than happy to provide it for them. Many of the older residents in the area have never had internet in their homes and don't intend to spare their precious pennies on it.

By lunchtime, Bellina finds herself in need of a little pick-me-up. She brews a vanilla latte and grabs a croissant to nibble on. Her phone rings from her apron pocket, interrupting her snack, so she sets her mug aside and answers it.

"Hello," she greets.

"Bellina, it's Campbell. How are you?"

"Hi, Mr. Campbell. I'm fine. Are you well?" She tries to keep her voice professional and light.

He clears his throat. "I'd say so—the wife and I are expecting another baby."

"Oh, that's amazing," she breathes, feeling the warmth of joy bloom in her chest. "Congratulations. That's truly wonderful. I wish your wife a safe and cherished pregnancy."

"Thank you. We're very excited. Now, I was calling to remind you of our appointment on Friday. I'll be at the cafe by 10. Does that work for you?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll see you then."

When Bellina sets her phone down, she noticed a figure standing at the counter. She shoves her phone into her apron and scurries over to the register. The male customer appears to be a complete stranger to her. He's staggeringly tall with broad shoulders and slim waist. He wears a black trench coat with a pressed shirt and slacks underneath. Tendrils of bronze hair slip out from under his black fedora. Bellina has never encountered such an intimidating figure. As she comes into view, cobalt blue eyes snap down from the menu to her petite figure.

She offers a smile. "I apologize for the—"

The man interrupts her in a cutting, deep voice. "I find it highly unprofessional that this establishment allows employees to take calls on the job."

Bellina blinks up at him, stunned by his rudeness.

"Are you mute?" he growls.

"N-No, sir," she stammers with a furious blush. "What can I get for you?"

He glares at her unrelentingly. "I'll take a black coffee."

She taps the order into her monitor without looking at him. "Would you like that in small, medium, or large?"

"Small."

"For here or take out?"

"For here," he snips, as if it was obvious and she's a simpleton.

Gulping, she completes the order. "Your total is two dollars and seventy-five cents. Will that be cash or card?"

He all but slams a five on the counter and makes her jump. "Bring it to me," he growls before turning away.

Bellina only looks up again once his back is to her. She stuffs the bill into the cash drawer and debated whether to bring him the remainder. He certainly doesn't seem like he wants to tip her and he just walked away. Maybe he expects her to bring the change to him with his coffee? She sighs in frustration and nervousness. Her customers are almost always nice to her. They may be grumpy at times but never outright rude. She's mostly just glad that the cafe is vacant so no one heard him talk to her like that.

She gathers the change from the cash drawer and tucks it into her apron pocket before pouring his coffee into a small ceramic mug. She finds him sitting at the same table that Freddy had been earlier in the day. Composing herself, Bellina crosses the lobby to his table and places the mug in the center of the table. The customer looks up from his phone with a scathing look. His eyes are so peculiar to her for some reason. They seem to glow, like they're charged with electricity or something.

"There's your coffee," she says. Placing the wad of change beside the mug, she adds, "And here's your change."

She turns to walk away but suddenly feels pressure on her wrist. An influx of heat pours through her at the contact and she spins around.

The customer holds her wrist in his hand. Her eyes widen at the contact. She can't help but notice his long, pale fingers and impeccably manicured nail beds.

"I didn't want the change," he said. "Take it back."

Bellina's eyes flit up to his. A bolt of liquid fire shoots through her and she instinctively squirms away. His grip intensifies. Whimpering, her fingers unfurl from their fist and he places the wad back in her palm with his free hand. Then he curls her fingers around the money.

"Leave me," he hisses, releasing her.

She stumbles back a step and stares openly at him. Not that he's no longer touching her, Bellina is left with a sense of coldness. She turns on her heel and nearly sprints to the kitchen. Her head feels like a tangled ball of yarn.

How dare he touch me! she thinks with a scowl. He hurt her a little, too. She rubs at the ring around her wrist where he'd held her. Should she report him? Sighing, she makes her way back to the register. She decides it's best to just let it go. Once she's stationed behind her post again, her eyes scan the lobby. The just occupied table is now empty, the rude man absent.

How did he leave without her hearing the door?

"How strange . . ." she murmurs to herself.

Bellina puts the extra bills from her fist into the cash drawer. She can't stop dwelling on the way he grabbed her. Who does that to someone? To a stranger, no less!

She goes to his table to collect the empty mug, only to discover that it's completely full. The man hadn't taken even a sip from it. Steam billows out of the ceramic mug, innocent to its fate.

'Maybe he had an emergency,' she thinks to herself. Why else would he pay for a coffee and generously tip without touching his beverage?

Shrugging, Bellina takes the mug to the kitchen and dumps the untouched brew down the sink. She's just happy he's gone. Most likely, he's visiting Mountaintop or just passing through. Although the tourists usually don't visit until summer or winter, she can see why someone would come now. The flowers and everything are in bloom right time and it turns their modest mountain village into a springtime garden.

'That's it,' she decides. He came to see the flowers and she'll probably never see him again.

If only she knew better.