Birthday present treats and a little bit of luck…
Molly treats herself to a special present every birthday. After saving all year, she visits her favorite bookstore and gifts herself a shopping spree. And this birthday, a recommendation and a kind word give her an additional, unexpected present.
The café next to the bookstore provides a cozy place to settle in on a gloomy winter day. Good people watching. Deliciously rich cake. Excellent cappuccino. And a fresh stack of books. What more could Molly want?
Maybe a little luck. And a chance meeting. And a memory she’ll carry forever.
MOLLY AT THE CAFE is available to read for free until the 15th of September, when another story will be posted. For readers who would prefer to read on a device of preference, or who would like their own personal eBook of this story, you can find it here.
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Molly at the Café
A Café Story
Molly’s stack of books leaned precariously to one side as she carried them to the counter in the bookstore. Her annual birthday spending spree on books was not something she took lightly. In fact, she spent a great deal of time over the year figuring out which books she could buy with her allotted birthday money. There was a time, twenty years ago when she’d get such a huge stack of mass market paperbacks, they’d carry her right through to her next birthday. But those days were gone. Print books were that bit more expensive now, so they had to be the special ones. Everyday reading she could buy eBooks.
Birthday books were special.
This year, the stack contained a mixture of history and fiction, particularly Romances. Some of them she’d even read already and wanted the physical copies to put on her shelves. Her library was growing, taking up a lot of room in her little apartment, but she didn’t care. This was her dream. To live in a library. And year after year, she was making that happen.
The nice, bespeckled woman behind the register rang her up with a grin. “That’s some haul!”
“Special birthday presents,” Molly said.
“For you or someone else?”
“Me. These are all for me.”
The woman chuckled.
Molly was pretty sure the woman was the owner of this bookstore. It was one of the smaller independent ones, but it always had a nice selection of books. The shelves were comfortably spaced so no one felt crowded. The genres were all present and clearly labeled. There was a kids’ section in the back with bright, colorful chairs and rugs. And the floors and shelves were all pale wood that kept the space nice and bright. Which was particularly lovely on rainy cloudy winter days like today. The smell of paper and ink permeated the place, making it smell almost like home whenever she stopped in.
And she stopped in regularly. Molly visited this particular bookstore throughout the year as she made her birthday wishlist. Outside of her birthday haul, she only allowed herself one or two paperbacks a month. If she allowed herself to buy everything she wanted, she’d be broke. So she had to ration her purchases. But not on her birthday. On her birthday, she went all in.
“It’s my birthday present to myself,” she said, because sometimes she felt the need to justify this giant purchase. She wasn’t sure why? The owner of a bookstore would never look crooked at someone buy so many books. But Molly’s past sometimes still reared its ugly head.
“Happy birthday!” the bookstore owner said. “You should head over to the café and get a free dessert or pastry. Just tell Nina it’s your birthday. The chocolate muffins she gets in are divine, if you like chocolate. If not, she has some cakes and cookies that would make a nice treat. Or if you don’t like sweets, she’s also got some savory cheesy muffins and sandwiches. I recommend all of it.”
Molly glanced toward the open archway between the bookstore and the neighboring café. She’d been meaning to go in there one of these days. The two businesses had only been connected for a little over a year. Maybe a bit longer. She couldn’t remember for sure. But she’d been promising herself when she had the time, she’d go in and linger for a bit.
Her birthday seemed like the perfect time to do just that.
Once she’d paid for her birthday stash and all the books had been lovingly stacked into a reusable cloth tote bag, Molly took her purchases through the archway and into the café. The smell of coffee and sweet pastry enveloped her instantly and made her stomach growl. She chuckled at that. She’d had breakfast, of course, but that had been hours ago. And apparently purchasing a mile-high pile of books wasn’t enough sustenance for her body. Food it was. And coffee. A stylish woman sitting near the archway, flipping through a magazine, had a round mug of what looked like cappuccino on the small table next to her cushioned chair. Cappuccino sounded good. And since this was a treat day, a treat coffee seemed in order along with whatever birthday pastry she got.
The café was half full, even though it was the middle of a weekday, with people sitting at the scattered tables in the center of the place and some filling in the cushioned seats and couches that lined the walls. The huge front windows and glass front door let in as much light as was possible on a gloomy day. The pale walls and polished wooden floors helped make the place feel as bright and cozy as the bookstore.
The counter, directly across from the bookstore entrance, was lined with cake stands topped by clear glass domes, several displaying delicious looking croissants, muffins, and cookies, two of them with layered cakes with several slices missing, one with what looked like cheese croissant sandwiches, and one with scones. Everything looked delicious, even at a distance.
Behind the counter, a large espresso machine hissed steam as a woman prepared a drink for someone standing at the counter, a handsome man wearing a long black coat. The man seemed to be having a conversation with the giant gray cat sitting on a stool that was obviously too small for him, just outside the counter next to the register. The cat was huge, and fluffy, with tufts on his pointed ears. Maybe a Maine Coon? And so pale gray he looked ethereal.
She was calling the cat he. For all she knew that was a girl cat. But what was really curious was the way the cat was listening to the man in the long black coat as if he understood what the man was saying. Cats were so funny.
Molly stepped up behind the man to wait her turn and scanned the café for a free table. There were several. Including a couch against the back wall, near a man working on a laptop, which looked like a comfortable place to settle in for a bit. She had the entire day. And spending it sipping coffee and looking through her new books seemed like an excellent use of her time.
When the man got his drink and headed to the cushioned chairs in the front window, the woman behind the counter watched him go, smiling softly. Molly recognized that dreamy-eyed look. She’d seen plenty of women get that look over the years. She wondered if the man returned Nina’s feelings. That would be sweet. Probably explained why he got along well with the cat.
She moved up to the counter and the woman, Nina, flashed her a genuine smile when she asked Molly’s order.
“Well,” Molly said, “it’s my birthday…”
“Happy Birthday! Birthday people get a free pastry. What would you like?”
“The bookstore owner said you did that. I’d love one of the slices of chocolate cake, please.” She also ordered a cappuccino and one of the cheese and croissant sandwiches because the sugar from the chocolate cake was going to go right to her head and she needed a little protein. Even if it was only a couple slices of cheese.
“Excellent choices all around for the birthday person.” Nina rang her up for the stuff that wasn’t complimentary, then said, “Have a seat and I’ll bring your order to you.” She glanced at Molly’s haul from the bookstore. “Looks like you have a lot to keep you entertained.”
By the time Molly settled into the couch she’d picked, though, she found herself more interested in people watching. Especially the way the man sitting in the front window kept glancing up to watch Nina and the way Nina glanced at him every so often. If they happened to catch the other staring, they exchanged head nods and grins. So! Definitely something going on there.
The man working on a laptop a few tables over was staring hard at his screen, his fingers moving over the keys in a steady clack clack clack. A noise that Molly was surprised she could hear over the café’s ambient music and noise. He seemed very focused and concentrated. Like he wasn’t even aware of the world around him. Molly wondered what that might be like? She was always very aware of the world around her. Unless, of course, she was reading. Then the real world disappeared. That was the whole reason she read. Collecting books was one habit. Reading was another. And the reading was what saved her.
It was a Tuesday afternoon, so she assumed the man was working but she did find herself curious what he was working on with such fierce concentration.
Nina stepped up to the table with Molly’s order then, distracting Molly from her people watching. Nina nodded at the laptop man. “He’s a writer. Writes really excellent crime novels. If that’s your jam, you might want to check them out.”
“Oh, I love crime novels. What’s his name?”
The name Nina gave her was more than familiar to Molly. She’d read a bunch of his books already. In fact, his latest was one that she’d purposefully gotten in hardback so she could keep it on her shelf.
Once Nina left, Molly sat blinking and staring across the café at the front door. Outside, people passed on the sidewalk. Never knowing that inside, a genius writer was at work. Molly didn’t know what to do with herself. That was The Frank McLean sitting just a few tables away. Writing! Maybe his next book. Maybe an email. But still. Sitting just a few tables away writing!
Now this was a birthday present to herself.
Except…
No. She couldn’t interrupt him. She couldn’t, could she? No. She couldn’t. He was obviously working. He probably had people interrupting him all the time to ask him to sign their books. No one in the café was paying any attention to him. Molly would be willing to bet that’s why he came here.
So she should just let him write and not bother him. She picked up her cappuccino, intent on leaving Frank alone. The coffee was amazing, and did do a good job of temporarily distracting her. The foam was perfect, the flavors of the espresso rich and deep without being bitter. Molly felt like she should thank the woman by the bookstore entrance, flipping through her magazine, for the recommendation, except of course the woman hadn’t recommended the cappuccino on purpose.
Molly was definitely going back into the bookstore to thank the owner for recommending she come over here, though. The slice of chocolate cake was heavenly and it was good the treat only came in slices because she might have eaten the whole cake otherwise. Which would not have been good for her system later that night. But it might almost have been worth it. Rich, chocolaty. The cake spongy and not too sweet. The frosting smooth and lush and dark. The balance was perfect.
Halfway through her slice, she realized she’d forgotten she was sitting next to a famous writer and was acting like a normal person around him. Well. Good job, Molly. Except now she remembered she was sitting next to a famous writer and suddenly she felt stiff and awkward. Like she’d forgotten how to move her body.
Her childhood had not been the most pleasant. Not as horrible as some. No one hit or anything more horrific. Her parents loved her, in their way. And they’d tried. Occasionally. But they were both functional alcoholics. That led to more neglect than effort. And Molly, an only child, had been left to essentially raise herself. She’d managed. Managed to get through school. Worked her way through college. Graduated with a marketing degree that got her a decent job. The kind of job that allowed her to support herself and occasionally splurge on her birthday for stacks and stacks of books.
Books, stories, fiction, had gotten her through her childhood. All that reading had helped her get through the nights when her parents were physically present but mentally absent. Reading to escape her surroundings had saved her soul. And she was grateful every day to the people who wrote the books she’d read growing up.
She was a bit in awe of writers in general. But she had a few favorites that just amazed her. She collected all their books. Had a keeper shelf dedicated to each one. And she occasionally even re-read some of those books even though she had so many more new ones to read. The comfort of those books was beyond measure.
One of the people who had a dedicated keeper shelf in her collection was Frank McLean.
And he was just…sitting there. Writing. Like it wasn’t magical. Like it was normal and every day. Did he even realize he was creating magic? At that very moment. Magic.
She finished her cake and tried to redirect her attention to the other people in the café. There seemed to be plenty of other things going on to occupy her imagination. The man sitting at the window who obviously had a thing for Nina continued to linger in his spot though he had a laptop out now too and seemed to also be working. Molly wondered what he did for a living. She also wondered if he and Nina were an item or still in that dancing around each other phase.
The gorgeous, elegant woman flipping through magazines and very occasionally sipping her cappuccino didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. And there were a few teenagers sitting in the middle of the café around a chessboard, one of them teaching the others how to play. In the corner nook between the counter and the front window, a young man had come in and was quietly strumming a guitar. The giant cat who’d been sitting on the stool beside the cash register was now sitting on the arm of the guitar player’s chair, bobbing his head to the music.
Another woman sat between the elegant lady and Frank McLean with her back against the wall, tucked into a darker part of the café. She was pretending to drink while also scanning the café, an open book in front of her that she did finally seem to sink into after a few minutes. Molly tried not to stare at her, but there was something eerily ethereal about her. But when the woman fully buried herself in her book, that eerie lure evaporated and Molly found she could study other people again.
Strange.
Her gaze jumped to Frank of course. Several times. But she did try not to focus on him too much. She was afraid her attention would distract him and the last thing she wanted to do was distract him from his next book.
After a while, she decided to go through her new purchases because that was as much fun as buying the stack. And of course, one of the first ones she pulled out was Frank’s latest. She glanced at him covertly as she set the book on her table. Would he notice? What would he say if he saw her reading one of his books? His picture was on the inner flap of the dust jacket. But in person, he looked more ordinary. Less… She wasn’t sure. Obviously, the picture had been taken to display the persona of a “crime writer,” and it was a good likeness. Just obviously a marketing picture and not him him.
Not that there was anything wrong with him him in person. He was a pleasant looking man in his forties. She knew from his biography that he was married and he and his husband had twins. He was also a teacher, or at least had been when his biography had been written. She had no idea how much of that was still true. Did he update his biography for his books often?
She flipped to the front of the book and decided reading the first chapter wouldn’t be too weird with him sitting right there. She was sucked in so deep and so instantly that when she reached the end of the first chapter, she had to blink herself back to her surroundings. Wow. He really was good at that. There was a reason he was one of her favorite writers. She glanced up and realized he was looking at her, but the minute she made eye contacted he looked back at his laptop.
Oh dear. Had she upset him or broken his concentration? Or maybe he was okay with someone reading one of his books in front of him?
Molly glanced down at the book, then across to Frank. Then back at the book. It was her birthday. She wasn’t going to get the chance to meet a famous author often. And the coincidence of having him here on her birthday when she’d just bought one of his books… It seemed like fate.
She screwed up her courage to go talk to him, promising herself she’d be quick about it so she didn’t disrupt his writing anymore. Her fingers were shaking as she clutched the book and stood. She very nearly just took herself to the counter for another drink. But no. It was her birthday. She was going to be brave. And if he was upset…
Trying not to think about that, she stepped up to his table. “I don’t mean to disturb you, and if this is out of line, I’ll leave. But it’s my birthday and your book is one of the ones I specifically came here to purchase and… Well. Would you mind signing it?”
“It’s your birthday?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Happy birthday!”
“Th-thanks.” Her cheeks heated, she knew she was blushing, but that wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting.
“I’d be happy to sign the book.” He chuckled. “I’m waffling through this scene so I appreciate the distraction.”
“Oh. I was afraid I’d be bothering you.”
“No. I love talking to readers. Love even more when they actually like my books.”
“You’re on my keeper shelf. All your books.”
“Oh wow. I’m really honored. Thanks for telling me that.” He took the book she held out with shaking fingers. “You know, I almost didn’t get this one written. I was having trouble with it, and it only really started flowing when I found this place and started writing here. Found my muse here, I guess.”
“It’s wonderful so far. I mean, I’ve only read the first chapter, but it’s wonderful.” He was talking to her like a normal person. That made her brain stutter.
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it so far. Who should I inscribe it to?” he asked.
“Molly. My name. Molly.” He was so nice she wasn’t sure how to speak like a normal person anymore.
“Molly. Spelled…”
She spelled it out for him, blinking a little at the request. It wasn’t exactly a hard name to spell. And he was a writer.
He noticed her frown and grinned. “You’d be surprised, but sometimes even the names that should be relatively obvious can have very unique spellings. I’ve met Mollys with ‘i-e’ endings, a few who only had one ‘l,’ and one who had an extra ‘a’ in there. I try not to take name spelling for granted now.”
She wondered where an “a” might fit in the name Molly but she supposed a famous writer probably met all sorts. And the fact that he was happily talking with her while signing her book had shut off her brain. She wasn’t sure what to say to the name revelation.
So when she said, “I’m just ordinary Molly,” she cringed inwardly. Because it sounded lame and she felt awkward and lame.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice. He was smiling as he finished signing her book. When he closed it and handed it back to her, he said, “Thanks for coming over, Just Molly. You made my day.”
“Thank you.” She clutched the book to her chest.
“And Happy Birthday. I hope you have a great one.”
“It’s perfect now.”
“Glad I could contribute to that.”
She returned to her seat still feeling awkward but also delighted with herself. What an unexpected birthday present. She wanted to read what he’d written into her book right away and also didn’t want to read it in front of him. The fact that she now had a book signed by one of her favorite writers, and not because she’d gone to an official signing but because she’d just happened to bump into him at a coffee shop on her birthday was a story she was going to carry with her for years.
When she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, he was back to staring at his laptop, creases furrowing his brow, his lips pursed. Obviously back into his story and the scene that was causing him problems. She’d never thought about how writers wrote books before. Watching the act in person was weirdly interesting even though all he was doing was frowning at his laptop screen.
Since he was distracted now, she cracked open the front cover of the book and looked at the signature. She smiled and patted the cover as she closed it. He’d included a “happy birthday” note with the message.
Molly finished her coffee and collected her books to leave because she didn’t want to disturb him or make him feel uncomfortable with her sitting there reading his book. But after that opening, she did want to go home and start reading again.
She was even more grateful now that the bookstore owner had recommended Molly come in here. This felt like the best kind of lucky coincidence. A bit of luck she wasn’t going to take for granted or push. Books had always been her happy place. Saved her and helped her through some pretty sad times. Now they were her treats, her specific and special birthday presents. One of her greatest joys.
And now she could say that she’d met a favorite author on her birthday. And he’d been happy to sign her book.
She wasn’t sure a birthday could get any better than that.
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Thanks for reading MOLLY AT THE CAFE. I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like your own personal eBook copy of this story, you can find it for sale here. You can also peruse the previous Café stories that are individually available for sale here.
And if you prefer either print reading or just want a bunch of stories all in one place, check out the first three volumes of Stories from the Cafe! Volumes One and Two are all the stories from 2025, Volume Three includes all the stories from the first half of 2026.
And don’t forget to check back on September 15th for the next Free story from The Café!
MOLLY AT THE CAFE Copyright © 2026 Kat Simons
All Rights Reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.