Page 26 of Caffeinated in Amesbury
Later, when the last customer had left and the chairs were perched atop tables, I sat with Thomas and Cole, surrounded by empty coffee cups and the remnants of pastries. We poured over feedback forms, which glowed with praise and buzzed with suggestions.
"More genres," Thomas read aloud. "Mystery, romance, even sci-fi."
"Everyone wants a piece of the literary pie," I said, grinning. I was already picturing themed evenings, from noir nights to intergalactic gatherings. "We've got work to do."
"Thanks to you, we're not just surviving the holiday season; we're thriving," Cole said with genuine gratitude, raising his cup in a toast.
"Here's to the power of books and beans," I raised my own cup, feeling the truth of my own words. As we clinked in the soft glow of fairy lights, I knew this was where I was meant to be—brewing success one page at a time.
The scent of cinnamon and the soft crackle of a fireplace filled Caffeinated Bliss as the final customers left. I leaned against the counter, eyes tracing the garlands that looped like literary laurels around the bookshelves.
"Can you believe it?" Thomas, his cheeks flushed with the evening's success, beamed at me over a tower of freshly signed novels. "We actually pulled it off!"
"Believe it?" I laughed, tucking a stray auburn lock behind my ear. My blue eyes sparkled brighter than the string lights above. "I planned it!" I grabbed a gingerbread cookie from a platter, inspecting its frosted jacket like a manuscript in need of editing. "But this little guy? He's missing a gumdrop button." With mock solemnity, I affixed the candy onto the doughy belly, then popped the cookie into my mouth.
"Ah," Cole said, sliding next to them with a mock seriousness rivaling my own. "The true mark of a successful event—the quality control of gingerbread attire."
"Let the records show," I giggled, crumbs tumbling from my lips, "that no cookie was left undressed on my watch."
"Nor a detail overlooked," Thomas added, as he wrapped a scarf around the neck of the shop's mascot, a coffee cup dressed as Santa. "Felicity, you've turned our little café into a winter wonderland of words."
I surveyed the room where every table hosted clusters of chatter, laughter, and shared stories—a far cry from Caffeinated Bliss just weeks ago. The corners of my eyes crinkled as I absorbed the sight of our victory: the community united, the registers singing a jolly tune of transactions.
"Look at them," I mused aloud, her heart swelling. "It's not just about the books or the sales. It's... it's the glow, you know? That warm, fuzzy feeling when you're exactly where you belong."
"Speaking of belonging," Blair interjected, sidling up with a tray of steaming mochas, "these bad boys aren't going to drink themselves." She slid a cup towards each of them, the steam carrying a hint of peppermint.
I took a sip, the rich chocolate flavor mingling with the zest of mint—a perfect blend of sweet comfort and refreshing surprise, not unlike my own journey back home.
"Who knew that saving a small-town coffee shop could feel as epic as slaying a dragon?" I quipped, smile betraying the surge of contentment.
"Or as intense as a last-minute plot twist," Cole added, winking.
"Or as thrilling as a love story," Thomas chimed in, nudging Cole with his elbow.
"Easy there, Shakespeare," I teased, rolling my eyes affectionately. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
I helped straighten chairs and collect the stray napkins that dotted the floor like fallen leaves. In the quiet aftermath, my thoughts twirled with possibilities for the future—new events, new challenges, new chapters.
"Hey," Cole called softly, drawing my attention. "Thanks, Felicity. For believing in us.”
"You give me too much credit. All I did was remind people that there's nothing more magical than a good story—and a great cup of coffee."
"Still," Thomas said earnestly, "you brought us back from the brink. We're indebted to you."
"Consider it my Christmas gift to Caffeinated Bliss," I replied, voice soft but firm. "No debts among friends, remember?"
"Then let's make it our New Year's resolution," Blair proposed, her arms laden with tinsel. "To keep the magic going, all year round."
"Deal," we all agreed in unison, their resolve as warm and inviting as the hearth.
With the final strands of tinsel tucked away, we stood together, a band of merrymakers bound by books, beans, and the belief that sometimes the best stories are lived, not just read. My heart hummed with the melody of newfound purpose, and I knew without a doubt that this was the happy ending I hadn't known I'd been writing all along.
13
Felicity
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