~Gingerbread Lattes~

*By Lady Lucritia*

* * * *

Morgan was having a bad day.

"I swear, if I hear the words 'gingerbread latte' one more time, I'm going to break something," she snapped at Kelly, her co-worker.

"I like gingerbread lattes," Kelly mumbled, sounding weary. "Besides, you get your break in ten minutes. I have to wait longer to get out of this Hell." Kelly sighed. "Who would've known that Starbucks would be this busy on a rainy day?"

"The world," Morgan groaned, wiping some whipped cream off of her green apron.

The air in the café was sticky and damp, and blasts of hot air shot out of the heater. The smells of sugar and coffee beans made Morgan's head and sinuses throb painfully, and the chattering of customers sounded like a million mosquitoes swarming methodically around the room.

Even though she sounded tired, Kelly was a darting bumblebee, cheerfully talking to a customer one minute and bringing a mother a straw for her children's milk the next. Morgan sighed heavily and looked out the window longingly; even the rain looked appealing compared to the whining customers and sickening smells of coffee drinks.

"Excuse me, may I have a gingerbread latte?" a deep voice asked.

Morgan whirled around, her fingers immediately reaching for the cash register. A middle-aged man with brown hair was standing on the other side of the counter. To Morgan's immense relief, he was the only one left in the line, his hazel eyes following Morgan's every move.

"Gingerbread?" Morgan couldn't keep the irritated tone out of her voice.

"Or, if you prefer, I could order a vanilla latte," the man offered, his smile reminding Morgan of the Cheshire Cat's grin.

"Oh, no!" Morgan gasped, worried that Kelly had heard her complaining to a customer. "No, order what you want. I'm sorry." She flushed and turned to the stack of cups next to her.

"Grande, please," the man added.

"Hey, Morgan," Kelly called, as Morgan handed the man his change. "Helen just came. You can take your break."

"Finally," Morgan sighed, tossing the cup to Kelly and untying her apron. "I'm going to go outside."

"Outside?" Kelly laughed. "It's like a shower's been turned on high out there."

"Stop with the similes, Kelly," Morgan muttered, grabbing a jacket.

"Hey, it's not my fault that we're in Advanced English," Kelly remarked, laughing as Morgan headed for the exit.

As she walked to the door, she felt a tapping on her shoulder. She turned around and saw the man that she had just served, his grin gone. Morgan felt like an examined specimen under his glance and flinched, feeling uncomfortable.

"I know this might be weird, but do you mind if I could talk to you?" the man asked. "My name is David Patterson, and I've been looking for you."

Morgan's heart somersaulted into her throat. The idea of any stranger looking for her caused an immediate stab of worry. David's eyes studied her face, and he sighed. Morgan nodded and opened the door, letting him out first. She then followed, her stomach churning madly.

The two of them sat down at a table, and David folded his hands, studying his fingers intently. Morgan bit her lip and watched as he pulled out a small photo from his pocket, covering it with his hand.

"Are you Morgan Malone?" David asked.

Morgan nodded.

"Morgan," David murmured, "I know this will make you very, very uncomfortable, but when I found out that you worked here, I wanted to find you. This may be a bad time, but now's better than never."

He hesitated, staring at his hands again. Morgan's heart went from her throat to her gut, sinking rapidly. She tilted her head to one side and gazed at David, as if asking, "Well?"

"Morgan, I'm your biological father," David finally whispered, handing her the picture. "When I found out your mom was pregnant, I left her. She told me that she would have an abortion. By the time your mother told me the truth and gave me the picture, you had already turned seventeen. Please don't blame me too much for this-"

Morgan stared at the picture; it was her most recent school picture. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head.

"How is this any proof?" she asked, staring at the man. "You could've gotten it from anyone!"

"Turn it over," David said.

Morgan did as she was told. Written on the back was a note. It read, "Your daughter, age 17. I'm sorry for not telling you. -Anne Malone." It was Morgan's mother's name and handwriting.

"That's still not enough proof," she whispered.

David sighed. "Your mother is a Virgo. She has two brothers named Jake and Max. Her favorite color is lilac, but she tells everyone that it's red because she wants to look bold." Morgan felt the color drain from her face. "I could tell you more, Morgan. When I got the picture in the mail, I called your mother. She promised not to tell you or your father."

"Yes," Morgan spat. "My father. Not you! You'll never be my real dad!"

"I can be a father to you," David whispered. His disposition brightened. "We could go to dinner, or we could see a movie. I've lost seventeen years with you. If you let me, we can be a family."

Morgan's mouth dropped, and she stood up, overturning her chair with a CRASH. She threw the picture down on the table.

"My life isn't a soap opera!" she yelled, unable to think of anything else to say. "My dad is my dad, not you! You can't just frigging randomly pop into my life after seventeen years and tell that you want a family now!" She spat out the last two words.

"Look, I'm not asking you to accept it, and I'm not asking you to tell anybody." He took out a piece of paper and scrawled a number on it. "Just call this number sometime."

"Like that'll happen," Morgan hissed angrily.

"I want to get to know you. I am your real father. Take the number. Please." Call me." His voice sounded pleading.

He handed it to Morgan and left her there. She stood there, clutching the paper. Her fingers roamed over the scrap, fraying the edges, as she sat down in another chair. Thoughts of her father, Mr. Malone, filled her mind. None of her memories held David Patterson. She smiled shakily, reliving the memories, and knew what she had to do with the paper.

Morgan ripped the paper with David's phone number to shreds. As she tossed the pieces into a trashcan, Kelly ran out, holding Morgan's green apron.

"Morgan," Kelly panted. "You need to come back in. These Comcast guys came in, and they all want, surprise, gingerbread lattes. Also espressos. We need all the help we can get-" Kelly's voice lowered to a whisper. "Hey, Morgan, who was that guy? The one you were with?"

Morgan looked towards the road, smiled sadly, and shook her head.

"He wasn't anybody. He wasn't anybody at all." Morgan placed an arm around Kelly's shoulder. "Now let's go. We've got a crowd to please with espressos and gingerbread lattes."