Page 5 of Unexpected Love
A scan over the other patrons confirms that everyone is happy and taken care of. At the moment, everything is calm, and I have possibly five minutes to myself.
I stride behind the counter to check my phone because that red box notification didn’t give me nearly enough information.
“Good crowd today.” Lissette, the Daily Brew owner and my good friend, is crouched at the front display case, taking advantage of the lull by organizing bottles of juice and water.
“Sure is,” I mutter, scrolling to the app that will hopefully deliver good news for me.
“Did you hear from the contractor?”
My shoulders inch a notch higher. Pretty soon, they’ll be attached to my earlobes.
A few more weeks. I can handle this stress for a few more weeks, and then hopefully, it’ll turn into a new kind of stress. The kind that means my own coffee shop, a sister store to the Daily Brew, is finally opening.
“Notyet.”
Lissette frowns. “What about the building department?”
I waggle my phone at her. “That’s what I’m checking now. I got an email notification, like, two minutes ago. It’s driving me crazy waiting to hear back from them.”
She mutters something incoherent, but I ignore her because she’s always muttering to herself while she works. Half the time, I can’t tell if she’s talking to me or to herself. If I didn’t love her to pieces, she’d drive me insane.
Lissette bought and opened this quaint little coffee shop five years ago from some fly-by-night out-of-towners who didn’t get a read on our community before they opened. Since then, she’s revamped it, restructured, and made it a success.
It doesn’t hurt that she made an outstanding show of compassion a couple years back by delivering pastries and coffee to the community after a tornado ripped through town.
People remember those acts of kindness. They’ve repaid her efforts a dozen fold at this point.
And now she’s letting me ride the coattails of her success by opening a sister shop in nearby Senoma. It’s a testament to the friendship we’ve built, and it scares the shit out of me that I’m going to fail her.
I scan through my emails, disheartened because what I hoped might be the building inspection department was merely a town newsletter mentioning the upcoming festival. I exit the app with a sigh.
“It’s all going to work out, Jules,” she calls from inside the cooler. “But I do remember how stressful it was when I took over this place.”
“Yeah, but you just bought the business. You didn’t haveto deal with contractors finishing the space or building code compliance issues. Not even zoning permits.” Not bothered by my panicked argument, she backs out of the cooler and resumes scribbling on her clipboard. I flap a hand in frustration. “You swapped keys, signed some paperwork, and bam, instant coffee-shop owner.”
My best friend hasn’t had the same experience I’ve had. She’s never left a loveless, horrible marriage and had to start her life over. Never lost a job involuntarily. Never had to pick herself up by her bootstraps and claw her way back.
Lissette stops what she’s doing and stares.
“What?” I huff.
Her mouth opens and shuts.
When she speaks, there’s a hint of approval glinting in her eye. “Julianne Lancaster, you’re grumpy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be grumpy.”
A scoff escapes my throat, and I cover by grabbing a nearby towel and wiping down the already clean counter.
“I’m not grumpy. I’m stressed. I’m worn out from working here and also trying to open the new shop. I’m terrified that I’m going to fail with the shop and you’re going to hate me, that I’ll lose all of my savings and go back to living with my brother. Or worse, go back to the corporate world.” I grit my teeth in a poor try at a smile, making sure she knows I’m serious. “But Iam notgrumpy.”
She stands gracefully, shoving the stocking crate into its spot on the shelf below the counter, then faces me with her hands on her hips. “You’re grumpy.”
Ugh. “You know what?” I slap the towel down on the counter and slip my apron over my head. “Fine. I am grumpy. I think I’m permanently tired from living at my brother’s for so long. It’s not easy being the eighth wheel in a family full of little toddler hellions. I don’t know how mysister-in-law does it all the time with her squad plus the others she babysits.”
I make one more useless swipe on the already clean surface, drained now that my rant is over. “Also, maybe I’m just not used to the quiet of my new apartment.”
“That’s understandable. Did you try a dance party?”
Dance parties are exactly what they seem. Loud, happy music and a chance to unwind.
