Page 60 of The Fall Classic

I wish I were more like that, but I try to be.

Logan

You succeed. Get some sleep, Georgie.

Georgie

<3

Logan

<))

***

It’s Sunday morning, and I’m at the table in my hotel room reading on my Kindle app when Georgie accidentally FaceTimes me.

I know it’s an accident because her phone is facing what looks like the truck roof, and I’m catching glimpses of her arm as she works.

“Morning,” Georgie says in a bright voice that tugs at something deep inside me. But she’s not talking to me. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t know,” a woman says. “This is my first time. We’re here for a family reunion, and my daughter told me I had to try Meant to Bean coffee.”

I can hear the smile in Georgie’s voice. “I’m so glad she enjoyed it. Do you have a favorite drink?”

“Not really. I like most anything.”

“In that case, let me ask: How do you feel today? Emotionally?”

“Nostalgic. Maybe sad. It’s the last day of our reunion.”

There’s a brief pause, and I see Georgie’s elbow move.

“That helps. Reunion aside, are you holding on to summer or ready for fall?”

“Fall, please. Get me out of this heat!” the woman says with a laugh.

“In that case, I think I have just the thing. And if you don’t like it, it’s on the house.”

I hear sounds of scooping and pouring and hissing. I have no idea what she’s making, but I find myself leaning toward the phone like it’ll help me see.

She slides the cup across the window. “I’m calling this ‘It’s Bean Real.’ Brown butter espresso, steamed milk, a dash of cardamom, and enough maple to remind you that the best season of the year is right around the corner.”

There’s a pause, and I think the woman is sipping. Then she sighs. “Oh, that’s lovely. How did you do that?”

“I learned from the best,” Georgie says, warm and easy. “You know, my mama once told me to be grateful goodbyes hurt so much because it means something mattered enough to miss.”

“That’s beautiful. Thank you, sweetie.”

“My pleasure.”

I hear Georgie exhale, and I sit forward, wishing I could fall into the phone and come out the other side with her.

There’s a beat of quiet in the truck, and then I hear the soft slide of the service window closing as the volume on the outside world lowers and the light on my screen shifts slightly as the truck dims.

Then Georgie looks down, her hands positioned like she’s ready to text, and⁠—

I’m grinning before she sees me.