Page 94 of Common Grounds

I frown and look back and forth between the two of them. Cass is nodding.

“Really?” I ask. “When? And why didn’t either of you tell me?”

“The most important part was the promise we made to each other when we decided to be together.” Vi traces a line on the dark tabletop. “That you and I would always be friends no matter what happened between her and me. You two would always be sisters, and you and I would always be friends. Always.”

I let the word settle into the tiny cracks in my heart. Always.

“What happened?” I whisper around the knot of emotion in my throat.

Vi shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know. I got too intense too fast or something.”

I laugh, and I’m surprised to find it’s wet. “You? No.”

“Funny,” she deadpans as her eyebrow ticks up.

Cass leans in. Her turn. “Let me put this in terms you can relate to. You’ve pitched yourself this story. The one where people leave you, and you’ll never be good enough to keep people around. That’s been your angle for years. But let me pitch you another angle. The one where the people who really matter stick around. Where you’re more than enough for the people who think you’re worth it.”

She’s worth it.

I can barely hold the tears back when it’s Vi’s turn again. “You’ve got to see it, Em. Not everyone abandons you. Cass didn’t. I never will. And maybe Trevor wouldn’t either, but in your insistence that people do, you left him. You may not like being the feel-good reporter on the block, but you made him happy. That was clear.”

Sreco.

The tears are really coming now, dropping onto the table one after another like little reminders. People feel things. I guess it’s okay if I feel things, too.

“He made me happy.” My voice is shaky, but the words are no less true for it.

Cass’s shoulders sag in relief. “So talk to him,” she urges gently.

“I will.” I wipe my eyes with a diner napkin and take a deep breath to steady myself again. “I promise, I will. But I want to write this article first. I need to do it right. I owe him.”

Cass and Vi share a smile. “Can we help?” Vi asks.

“No.” I reach into my bag to power on my phone. I have to send a text to Ethan. There’s a photo I need for this article, and I think he can make it happen. “I know exactly what I need to do.”

AN ANCESTRAL CUP: MARKO AND DAVID KOVACIC LIVE ON IN BAKER’S BLEND’S LEGACY

Emery Darlis

Thank you for joining me for this month-long feature of Baker’s Blend Coffee Shop. It’s our last article today, and I’m proud that your interest in the shop has made a real difference. Baker’s Blend has seen more and more customers over the month, and I’m happy to report that it seems the shop will be able to remain open.

I did not have the pleasure of knowing Marko and David Kovacic, the previous owners of Baker’s Blend Coffee Shop. They both tragically passed before the writing of these articles. And though I grew up in this city, and Baker’s Blend has been part of Baker’s Grove since well before I was born, I didn’t know about it until I started this series.

It seems a shame that I was never introduced to Baker’s Blend nor its previous owners. The truth of it is that my family was not integrated in the community. Growing up, we were more isolated than I realized, not venturing out into the city to try new things or meet new people. And though I can’t get enough of it now, coffee was not a part of our daily routine.

I wish I had met Marko and David. It would have been a treat to hear Marko talk about the beauty of the Croatian coastline. To listen to his stories about coming to America with his wife and a dream. To sip an espresso made with the original machine he saved up to buy shortly after opening the shop. To watch David make his signature blueberry muffins—an item still on the menu today—while he told me how he sourced his ingredients and where to find the best blueberries.

But they are gone now, and Marko’s grandson, Trevor, remains as the sole owner of Baker’s Blend. He is a man holding his father’s and grandfather’s legacy in his hands. He is committed to coffee, of course, but it’s more than that. Coffee, to him, is about community. It’s about sharing something special with the people around you.

I may never have met his father or grandfather, but to know Trevor Kovacic is to know his ancestors. His grandfather’s smile is reflected in his own. He has his father’s eyes. And he embodies their passion for bringing people together over good coffee.

To know Trevor is also to love him. You cannot talk to him and walk away unhappy. His brightness and optimism are contagious and can soften even the hardest of edges. His coffee and company are warm and hearken from ancient traditions. To love him is to love his ancestors. They are as much a part of him as they are of Baker’s Blend itself. They are woven into the fabric of the shop and into everything Trevor does. They represent a permanence that is missing for so many of us—at least, for me. Through the coffee and conversation that fills Baker’s Blend, his father and grandfather are eternal. They live on in every smile and every cup.

When you visit Baker’s Blend Coffee Shop, you’re doing more than buying a latte. You’re supporting a rich history. You’re supporting our community. And we hope the community comes out to show how much it means tomorrow for the grand re-opening of Baker’s Blend.

Chapter thirty-six

Trevor

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