The Coffee Shop

By Devon Baker

Joe McDonald has found himself in a difficult position. Worries about job security and finances, made worse by the Covid pandemic, lead him to befriend others with similar worries as well as a homeless man who changes his life. As he finds comfort and security in a coffee shop that should be closed, he questions his own values while fending off danger on many fronts - both within the city and from his past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798385011056

Devon Baker

Devon Baker is a former pilot, sports fan, educator, husband, and father. He has a passion for justice and seeing others treated the way we all wish to be treated. His interests include mystery, suspense, and world events. Devon lives near Portland, Oregon with his wife, Karen, and energetic dog, Watson, his faithful sidekick.

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Copyright © 2023 Devon Baker.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WestBow Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture quotations taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version® NIV® Copyright © 1973 1978 1984 2011 by Biblica, Inc. TM. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

ISBN: 979-8-3850-1104-9 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-1105-6 (e)

WestBow Press rev. date: 10/23/2023

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

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CHAPTER 1

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A MAN ONCE LIVED DOWN BY the river, a complicated man of simple means. Making a living mostly by talking to businesses who would listen, he worked in the financial industry in an old part of downtown. The days of easy sales commissions were long gone now, and Joe survived mostly by his wits. Fear gripped him knowing he was living paycheck to paycheck, wondering what would happen to him if he did not make the quota for the month. A storyteller by nature with interesting and wild tales of great serendipitous adventure, he was engaging and entertaining, sparking interest in all who took time to listen. On this particular winter morning, though, he was cold and lonely as he stared at his breath condensing in the cold air after warming his almost frozen hands. He wondered if this unseasonably record-breaking cold would last all winter. A streetlight flickered off as the morning light began to rise with an eerie glow in the east.

I guess climate change is real, he whispered out loud to himself. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of his footsteps as he walked alone across the Big Bridge. A deep sadness chilled him to the bone. He pulled his dark grey overcoat tightly around his waist and decided to take a shortcut down the stairs to the street level and walk along the water. The river was beautiful this time of year as the orange-yellow full moon was reflected on the water it illuminated.

Hey sir, a faint voice called out from behind a tree near the sidewalk. Joe felt a knot in his stomach as he whirled around in fear and sudden panic. Then his life flashed briefly before him, and he increased his gait to a full run while his tie flew back and forth across his freshly pressed white dress shirt. He knew it would be tough to run away from a would-be attacker in his dress shoes and suit. He had seen news stories of people who disappeared down here, stories of bodies discovered floating in the river. Suddenly another man with a serious, menacing grin, appeared directly in front of Joe, blocking his path. But then the second man walked away as quickly as he had appeared.

Please help me, the first man said as he stared at the ground in shame. With the full moon at his back, a shadow hid his face from view.

What do you want? Joe turned to face him and spoke softly, hoping he could not be heard. You can have all my money, he added reaching for his wallet. A desperate anger began to well up within his chest. The homeless population was really getting out of hand, he thought.

Any spare change? The man asked apologetically. Joe opened his wallet and pulled out several $20.00 dollar bills. Now the man looked up and their eyes locked for a brief moment that seemed like an eternity to Joe. The loneliness and sadness of this man stood in stark contrast to the comfort and security Joe had known most of his life. Joe’s fear in that moment was now replaced with a sense of deep sorrow. Joe held the bills up, neatly folded them, and then placed them in the man’s hand. The fear was now gone and his anger was transformed into an unexplainable joy.

What is your name? Joe asked as the man carefully took the bills and looked up at Joe.

Jeffrey, the man replied apologetically. I’m hungry and need something to eat. God Bless you for this, he said, as a new smile crept across his face. The salt and pepper stubble beard of this man in his 50’s and missing a couple of teeth, outlined a scratch that stretched from the bottom of his eye around his chin and partway up the other side of his face.

I hope it helps, Joe said.

You have no idea how much this means, the man replied. Joe gulped as he wondered what kind of fight the man had been in to leave such a scar.

God Bless you too, Joe answered in return not really knowing what to say. The two men quickly turned to go in opposite directions. Joe made his way back to the office with the full moon illuminating his way, and this stranger walked in the opposite direction in his own dark shadow. Joe hoped he would not see this man again.

How did my city get this way? Joe shook his head and asked himself out loud, softly enough so that nobody heard. His town, once the source of great pride and personal success, had become a cold and dark place filled with anxiety and fear of strangers. But they weren’t really strangers at all, he thought. They were people with families - mothers and fathers with very real needs. Suddenly he heard a shout from across the bridge above him.

Hey Joe, come and join us at the coffee shop, another man in a dark overcoat, a friend of his, called as he waved from across the street. The coffee shop was down in the industrial district on the east side across the river and was the local hangout. Joy filled Joe’s mind. A smile crept over his wrinkled but chilled face as he realized the warmth he would soon feel. Pulling his dark overcoat around himself tightly and wrapping an old and faded red scarf around his neck and face, he knew he would get some food and conversation soon.

Later that evening, while in the company of his friends, he wrapped his hands around a cup of hot coffee, feeling its life-giving warmth. The safety of the coffee shop was a welcome relief against the fear and severe weather trying to break in from outside. Joe was among friends now. He got in line and grabbed a paper. As he waited for his freshly-roasted drip coffee, he looked at the title across the front page, "Shelter in Place" changed to Stay at home. What an unusual turn of events, he thought. The Coronavirus was infecting everyone and spreading through his city like wildfire, but nobody seemed to notice here. Sitting at his usual table, he struck up a conversation almost immediately. He was in the company of a variety of successful people, former teachers, a retired doctor, a couple of lawyers, and yes, even one financial planner. Many were older now, retired or semi-retired, and had once held high-level positions around town. They were all here for one purpose - to be seen and to see other people - in short, to be validated, to be told that their life mattered.

The conversations here were always lively and upbeat, but on this particular day, everyone was concerned. The great problems of the age now included this deadly Coronavirus and how to survive it. Preferring to hear about the lives of others, validating their opinions and giving encouragement, Joe had a rare skill. He felt It was the lifeblood of any community. Joe poured himself into others, and by his positive, energy-giving presence, he had the ability to light up a room with a smile and quick hello. His attitude was infectious, encouraging others to be positive and affirming in this little coffee shop.

Thanks, Joe, Bill said, I really needed your kind words today.

Bill, the barista at this little coffee shop, had been a college history professor in another life. He was here now and a much-needed voice of experience and concern.

Underemployment is not the end my friend, Joe told Bill. There is more to life than a job, he added. Bill nodded in agreement.

But what will I do, how will I survive? Bill asked as he smoothed back his silver hair revealing a receding hairline.

Just keep coming here to the coffee shop. You are needed here, Joe replied with a smile.

Maybe you’re right. It is enough for now, Bill replied. Not everyone here found solace in Joe’s words, though.

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You don’t know what you are talking about! you clueless, four-eyed liberal, Dave, a disgruntled lawyer said to Joe one night. You make people feel good all the while hounding them for money to earn your commission, and besides that your fees are too high, Dave laughed heartily, but Joe was seething inside. Joe’s glasses slid half-way down his nose as a frown came over his face. I don’t really need to respond," he thought. Though he laughed it off, the comment hurt.

You’re full of it, Joe finally replied with a wry smile. This thing, this virus we are facing is real, not make believe, and its time you took it seriously.

It is just not that serious, Dave countered. So what if a few old people get sick and die, he added.

Schools are now closed. Most businesses are shuttered and people are dying Joe replied, and you don’t seem to care. In fact, you still think it’s about my fees. They looked at each other while thinking of new ways, new words to shout to each other, filled with spite and vituperation. Joe began to daydream. How, he wondered, did this little coffee shop in the middle of a deserted but once heavily populated city block, escape notice and remain open?

Why bother coming here if you are only going to fill us with fear and panic? Dave asked. Everything is ok. You liberals are all the same, he added. The graphic on the TV monitor behind the bar was detailing the numbers, the severity of this new, unheard-of scourge, this pandemic. People were infected and many dying, the governor was saying. Then, without another word, Joe got up and walked out of the shop, regretting how he had attacked his friend. For reasons not well understood, though, everyone came back here to this little coffee shop down the street and around the corner out-of-site from those who were paid to notice such things. They were a family here. People had arguments and left in a huff, just like a real community. Agreement on anything was just a sidebar; this group thrived on bantering with each other. On any other day, this would be enough. The challenge of this day, though, was bigger than anyone could fathom. It would affect life for a long time, and it would affect whether they would still be able to meet as a group at all. Community, though, was still thriving here with this little band of friends and malcontents.

Later the next day, Joe was walking from one appointment to another. He was used to talking to people, hoping that he could help them with their financial well-being; but mostly looking for an audience who might listen to him. This was not easy now - not since people were encouraged to stay away from each other. He had not met his quotas for quite some time now and worried about how he could make the mortgage payment on his house next month. At least he could count today’s meeting as an appointment with a long-time friend, Mitch.

What will you tell your wife? his friend Mitch asked when Joe told him about the mortgage payment.

Maybe my extended family will help, Joe replied.

Would you ask them for money? Mitch inquired, shaking his head in disbelief.

I don’t know, Joe said. I don’t really have any other ideas at the moment, and I’m afraid my company won’t employ me much longer. Mitch raised his cup for another sip, paused as if in deep thought, and then stared blankly at the wall.

At least you have a family. My wife is leaving me, Mitch said sadly.

Well, I’m sorry Mitch. Joe looked down for a moment as he felt Mitch’s pain. Can you talk about it with her?

I already tried but didn’t get anywhere, Mitch replied dejectedly. Joe nodded as if he knew how tough it would be, especially during this time of lock-down. He thought about how Kat might react to the loss of his income.

I’m really sorry but I have one more appointment today, at Charter High School, and I really must be going. Joe haphazardly gathered his papers and shoved them into his briefcase.

Let’s get coffee next week," Mitch called out as Joe headed for the door. Joe turned and nodded in agreement while pushing the door open to the outside world.

Joe’s mind wandered back to how he got started in the world of finance. What had happened to the world lately? Giving up his previous career as a public school principal and teacher for a career in finance, Joe now believed he may have made a rash decision in a moment of uncertainty and fear. Everything had changed so quickly. He thought back to that time when he made that decision.

What will we do now? he said to his wife, Kat.

Something will come up, she said. Maybe you can work for Debbie, our financial advisor. Joe frowned and then nodded in approval.

My father was an insurance salesman, Kat added reassuringly. He loved it and was good at it, she said with a smile. Maybe you can do that too and it will be enough, she added.

But all I know is the world of education, Joe replied softly, I’ve done it all my life. Joe thought he did not have much to lose at the time so he took the exams including the specialized Series Seven, and got certified. Maybe it was an answer to prayer. After all, so much division and hatred existed now that the effects of the virus took hold. Things had changed drastically over the last several days. The city was filled with frustration, selfishness, misunderstanding of the older generation, and a general distrust in people with experience.

What can I do? he asked himself. It seemed hopeless. The only solution, Joe thought, was to retire or change careers. Maybe working in the financial world would work. At least for now.

Meanwhile, at the coffee shop, his friends shared an uncertainty for their own future, too. Joe encouraged each person’s story; many had become angry and disgruntled. They were unable to believe truth, aided and abetted by the spread of disinformation. Some had retired or lost their jobs due to circumstances out of their control. Others had lost their families, homes or wives. But something inside of Joe burned with hope even now when so many were without hope. There was much to do, so many people to speak to and… Joe woke from his daydream. It was time to get to work.

See you guys, he said and left the coffee shop, making his way back through the maze of buildings. He began walking back across the Big Bridge.

It really is a beautiful city, Joe said out loud. A man in a tattered grey overcoat and a sign in his hand crossed in front of him and looked directly at him.

It’s a beautiful city if you have money, the man replied. Not everyone is rich.

Well, if you worked a little harder and didn’t panhandle out here all day you might make it too, Joe replied in a moment of anger. Joe regretted his words almost immediately, but it was too late.

What do you know about it? I bet your father gave you everything, the man said angrily. It wouldn’t be too hard to be successful if I was given what you were given. Joe’s jaw clenched trying to think of a brilliant reply.

I worked for what I have, said Joe believing he had earned it through his own hard work and discipline.

But you were given privilege along the way - white privilege, the man added with certainty. Joe didn’t know what to say. He had never been confronted this way. What if the man was right?

I don’t know what you’re talking about. I earned my success through hard work and perseverance, Joe replied half-heartedly while he continued walking in silence, hoping to ignore this deranged man.

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CHAPTER 2

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"W ATCH OUT," JOE YELLED WHILE raising his hands in anger. Hearing the loud warning out of nowhere, the driver of the red Mercedes swerved suddenly to avoid hitting the pedestrian. The car was moving slowly in the morning traffic, but the sun had blinded the driver, and it almost hit Joe as he strolled slowly up the sidewalk, briefcase in hand. Joe was confident he had helped the arrogant and careless driver avoid catastrophe. But the two men both felt the other to be at fault in the situation.

Get out of the way! Derrick, the driver of the Mercedes yelled out of his driver’s window while gesturing wildly with his hand for the man to move over to the side of the road.

Hey, watch it, Joe yelled back at the driver of the red Mercedes as it passed by. The stately car brushed Joe’s overcoat, barely missing the middle-aged insurance salesman. Wow, you almost hit me. You should learn how to drive, Joe responded.

Way to go, boomer, Derrick, the driver of the Mercedes, yelled back. The old guy even walks like Dad, he said. These old boomers are all the same - they really think they own everything including the road, he mused angrily. But then, Derrick’s jaw dropped, his demeanor changed, and he quickly lowered the window in his plush Mercedes before calling out again through the opening.

Dad, Derrick said in a kind voice, is that really you? A sense of compassion overtook him, and he slowed his car to a stop at the side of the street, getting out to get another glimpse of this old man to make sure he was okay.

Meanwhile, the elder salesman did not hear Derrick and never looked up but kept plodding along up the cobblestone alley. Satisfied that all was well, Derick got back in his car, buckled his seat belt and began his journey again before pulling to the side of the road a few feet later and stopping suddenly for a second time.

You’re all alike, Derrick yelled as he opened the door to his car and turned up the stereo in the Mercedes. He pounded the steering wheel while recalling images of an earlier time in his childhood. Derrick’s dad was always on the road, seldom got involved in his activities, was usually unavailable to throw a ball around or help him with homework, and was totally consumed by his work. Later, his father was happy when Derrick got married but blamed him for his divorce a couple years later. Joe thought Derrick was not involved enough with his wife, and that was the reason she left him. Derrick was devastated at the time, vowing never to talk to his father again.

It’s really just water under the bridge, son, Joe had said while Derrick just hung his head in shame.

But Dad, you don’t understand, Derrick tried to explain.

You just have to be strong, Joe interrupted, trying to help but leaving Derrick with a myriad of unresolved feelings of guilt and embarrassment after his wife left him.

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Derrick’s past feelings of failure and resentment now reverberated through his mind as Simon and Garfunkel’s Bridge Over Troubled Water reinforced earlier memories of his pain-filled past while it played on the car’s surround-sound stereo system.

Where were you when I needed you? Derrick yelled, hoping to tell his absent dad how angry he felt. You were selfish and out of touch with reality, all the while blaming me, Derrick continued his speech to nobody. Overcome with emotion, a tear ran down his face. Finally, hoping to regain