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register again.
    She knew that he didn’t get it. That he couldn’t get it.
    Because the only one who could have really explained it to him wasn’t here to speak.
    • • •
    The shop was surprisingly busy. It almost felt like Astrid’s funeral, round two. Everyone was looking at her with understanding eyes, like they wanted to somehow show their support. But, “I’m sorry your best friend killed herself,” didn’t really jibe with, “Can I have an iced latte?” So they just left her really big tips.
    A part of her kept expecting Astrid to pop out of the back office, to hop on the register and take care of a few customers, to show her exactly how she got the foam on her lattes so perfect.
    The big pot of house blend was out in a few hours. Jake was on the register and there was a slight lull in customers, so Ella headed to the back room where they stocked extra beans.
    As soon as she stepped inside, the sight of Grace and Claire made her tense up. Grace faced the wall, slumped over her desk in a corner of the stock room, papers spread out in front of her, hands on top of them as if they were holding her up. Ella felt like an intruder. She hadn’t meant to interrupt — she hadn’t known there was anything
to
interrupt. She just wanted to stock the coffee, damn it, but she was already inside. She couldn’t turn around now.
    Claire leaned over Grace. “Come on,” she said quietly, tugging on Grace’s arm. “It will be good to go out there. Just for a minute.”
    Ella moved quietly, grabbing a big bag of the house blend off the first shelf. Their backs were to her, and they still hadn’t seemed to notice.
    They were quiet for a moment as Ella tip-toed out, but then there was a flash of movement, a yell. “Get away from me,” Grace said, jerking her arm from her sister’s grasp. “It won’t be good,” she said, her voice rising. “It can’t help me. You can’t help me. He can’t help me. No one can.” And she began to sob.
    Ella heard a rattle on the floor. The two women whipped around. Grace stared right at her. Angry.
    It took her a second to realize that she’d dropped the bag of coffee. “I’m sorry,” she said, kneeling down, the coffee beans pressing into her bare kneecaps. She started to scoop them up with her hands. “I’m really sorry.”
    “Just get out,” Grace said. And then she looked to her sister. “Both of you, just leave me alone,” she said. “Please.”
    And Claire walked towards Ella quickly, the coffee beans crunching beneath her feet. She grabbed Ella by the shoulder, pulling her upright. Beans were still stuck to her shin. Claire pushed her back to the front. Grace’s eyes stayed pinned on her until she couldn’t see them anymore. Claire closed the door behind her with a thud.
    “I’m sorry,” Ella said, brushing the coffee beans off her legs. “I was just getting coffee. We ran out. I didn’t mean to — ”
    “Shh,” Claire said, putting her finger to her lips in a move that was super patronizing but just the slightest bit comforting. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll get the coffee. I think I saw some more in the cabinet.”
    Without a pause, she grabbed a rag from the counter and pushed it into Ella’s hands. “Here,” she said. “Why don’t you wipe down the counters?” she asked. “They look dirty.”
    Ella took the rag obediently. Jake looked at her and gave her a shrug. He must have heard everything, but he didn’t look all that surprised. She followed Claire’s suggestion on autopilot, sliding the rag across the counter in big even arcs. Claire had swooped in after the storm and she was in charge now. Which was weird because it used to be her and Grace and Astrid who were in charge. She and Astrid used to decide what pots needed brewing. Which counters needed to be cleaned.
    She stared back at Jake, standing at the register, ringing up an old woman and handing her a paper cup. She had gray-blue hair you couldn’t forget, and she and