But Eric’s smile as he inspects the container’s contents calms my insecurity. “Wow! This looks great. Mind if I try some now?”
“Go ahead! I have too much at home, so I can always bring more if you like it.”
He flashes me another great smile as he grabs a fork and then takes a bite. His eyes go wide, and he nods while chewing. When he’s finished, he says, “This?” He points his fork at the container. “Is amazing! I’m going to save the rest so the others don’t see me eating it and I’m forced to share.”
I laugh. “Like I said, there’s more where that came from.”
“Your fiancé is a lucky man,” he says.
Oh. Awkward. I already told him I was fired. Do I really want to tell him I’ve been dumped as well? No. No, I do not. I make a noncommittal mmmmm sound and then order my usual almond milk latte.
When the latte appears on my table, I look up from my laptop and see Brian, not Eric. “Oh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Then reading my thoughts he says, “Eric had to take a call.”
I nod. I want to say that it wasn’t really that I was expecting Eric so much as … (okay, I was expecting Eric), but I say nothing.
“I tried a bite of that cheesecake creation you made for Eric. Right on.” Brian gives me an appreciative nod. “I wouldn’t have known it was healthy until he informed me of the fact.”
“Thank you.” Though I want to insist that I didn’t make it specifically for Eric, I instead say, “I made it last night and made too much. If you like it, I’d be happy to bring you a slice.”
“Nah. I’m eating too much of the stuff here,” he says, patting his nonexistent belly. “Besides, you should let your fiancé enjoy the rest.” He gives me a meaningful look—as if he’s asking me a question rather than making a statement. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. It’s hard to tell these days.
Even though I’m no longer wearing my ring, it’s none of Brian’s business. So I just say, “Sounds good. Thanks for the table service.”
“Sure thing.” He knocks his knuckles on the table and returns to his barista station.
I take a sip of my latte and start typing. Today I’m widening my search. I’ve been so hung up on what I lost that I’ve been looking for the same exact job—a job I gave twelve years to and got fired from for suspect reasons. So why do I want more of the same? My career book suggested listing my skill set and matching it to various professions. Not even having to be that creative, there are some in-house opportunities in marketing and advertising I could apply for. Everything listed is very corporate-sounding, which even though I’m thinking of big firms, doesn’t excite me. And the smaller firms seem like just that—small and not much of a challenge. It may be that I’m not really interested in my field at all. Yes, I enjoyed thinking up dessert names for Eric yesterday, but was that really because it’s my passion or just because I’m so used to it that I do it on autopilot?
After an hour of searching, I’m feeling uninspired. I’ve finished my latte and even the caffeine can’t help the sinking feeling in my stomach. I debate getting another coffee to have an excuse to sit here longer and avoid going home. I look around the coffeehouse and think about how Eric just completely switched gears in his life. Going from finance guy to coffeehouse owner seems like such a complete one-eighty. Did he always have a passion for coffee? How did he figure out this is what he wanted to do?
Maybe sensing my existential crisis, Eric swings by. “How’s it going?” he asks. “Need a refill?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” I lean away from the computer and blink a couple times to refocus my eyes. My lack of sleep is catching up with me, and I might need a nap rather than caffeine.
“Looks like you were doing some serious research.”
“Just job hunting.” I shrug and then grimace.
“It seems like you could do whatever you wanted.”
“How I wish that were true. Unfortunately, I still haven’t figured out what I want to do when I grow up.” I give a little laugh.
“Sometimes we need to let it find us.”
“Is that a Buddhist saying?”
“No. It’s an Eric Caulder saying.”
I tilt my head, not sure I’ve heard of him. Should I be reading his books? I make a mental note to check him out at Barnes & Noble.
“My last name is Caulder,” Eric clarifies.
“Oh!” I laugh. These self-help books are making me take everything so seriously; but now the name of the place, The Cauldron, suddenly makes sense. “It’s good advice. The Tao of Caulder.”
“Or maybe it’s a Buddhist saying and I just adopted it as my own?” He puts his hands out and does a half-shrug. “Like I said, when my mom got sick, I did a lot of soul-searching and read a lot.”
Before I can ask him if he has any recommendations, a new customer walks in. Brian isn’t at the counter, so Eric sweeps up my empty mug and says, “I’ll be back.”
But one customer becomes a few more and Brian and Eric are busy, and I’m taking up table space for no good reason. I’ll have to ask him about book recommendations later and, more importantly, the genesis of his coffeehouse.
IN THE MORNING, after I’ve worked out and called my mother (who answered and immediately announced that she’s still not technically speaking to me, but then launched into a thirty-minute fertility lecture—ugh), I’m at a loss on how to spend my afternoon. I can’t imagine any new job opportunities have suddenly appeared, and a quick dutiful search confirms my suspicion. Since I’m out of self-help books and am trying to resist the siren call of Bravo, I walk to the bookstore.
Just like I’m now used to Eric and Brian at the coffeehouse, I have now made friends with Leticia at the bookstore. When I bring a copy of Lean In to the cash register, she nods approvingly.
“She’s a good one,” Leticia says, scanning the bar code.
“Mm-hmm.” I’m a little embarrassed that it’s taken me this long to read the book that’s become the manifesto for career women everywhere. Whenever the title comes up in conversation, I usually just nod and murmur something about how inspiring Sheryl Sandberg is. And I wonder now if Leticia is employing the same technique since she doesn’t say anything further.
I BRING MY new purchase to The Cauldron, where it’s just Brian and a girl I haven’t met yet behind the register. While ordering my usual latte, I notice Eric’s dessert with a handwritten sign “Sinfully Healthy Chocolate Bar” in the glass pastry case and point to it. “And I’ll have one of those.”
So Eric did like my suggestion after all. I smile inwardly. It’s a small thing, but it makes my entire day.
I take over one of the comfy chairs and settle in with my latte and dessert. I’m a few chapters into my new book when I hear Eric’s voice over my shoulder. “Good book?”
“Yes. She’s an amazing woman,” I repeat the mantra.
He nods. “It’s good to learn from others’ success. When I was thinking about opening my own business, I read a lot of books about entrepreneurs.”