Page 91 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
I change into a clean shirt and tie my hair back, checking my reflection for signs of emotional devastation that might concern customers. The face looking back at me shows strain around the eyes, tightness in the jaw that speaks to clenched teeth and suppressed fury.
But I’ve looked worse. And I’ve survived worse.
The question is whether surviving this time will require building walls so high that nothing gets through again.
The late afternoon crowd at Twin Waves Brewing buzzes with the kind of subdued energy that suggests people are discussing something more interesting than weekend plans and weather predictions. Conversations pause as Jessica and I descend the stairs from my apartment, then resume with the forced casualness of people pretending they weren’t just speculating about my personal life.
Caroline looks up from her homework with obvious relief, her young face creasing with concern that makes my chest tight. “Michelle! Are you okay?”
The inquiry carries genuine worry rather than curiosity, which makes it both easier and harder to handle. Because Caroline’s investment in my wellbeing is real, unlike the gossip-driven interest of some customers who treat other people’s drama as entertainment.
“I’m fine, sweetheart,” I lie smoothly, muscle memory of emotional self-protection kicking in to deliver the response people need to hear. “Just working through some business complications.”
“Business complications?” Mrs. Hensley looks up from her afternoon tea with sharp interest. “What kind of business complications?”
Before I can deflect, the coffee shop door chimes with violent force, nearly rattling the windows. Penelope Waters strides in with theatrical flair.
Perfect. Because this day clearly wasn’t bad enough without my nemesis showing up to gloat over my latest romantic disaster.
“Michelle, darling!” Penelope’s voice carries saccharine sympathy that doesn’t fool anyone. “I just heard the most interesting news about your little collaboration project.”
The coffee shop falls silent with the anticipatory hush of people recognizing that they’re about to witness either spectacular entertainment or brutal social warfare. Possibly both.
“Penelope,” I reply with professional politeness that could frost glass. “What can I get you today?”
“Oh, I’m not here for coffee. I have my own sources for quality beverages.” Her smile sharpens with predatory satisfaction. “I’m here because I wanted to express my sympathy about your recent... professional disappointment.”
Jessica steps closer to my side with protective instincts that would make Biscuit proud. Caroline’s eyes widen as she recognizes the tension crackling through the air like electricity before a storm.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t follow.”
“Your development partnership, sweetie. Such a shame when business relationships don’t work out as expected.” Penelope examines her perfectly manicured nails with studied indifference. “Especially when you’ve invested so much... personally... in the collaboration.”
The emphasis on ‘personally’ lands like a slap. Because of course she knows. In a town this size, emotional devastation becomes public knowledge before you’ve finished experiencing it privately.
“Business partnerships end for various reasons,” I reply evenly, years of customer service training preventing me from delivering the response she deserves. “Professional differences, timeline conflicts, changing priorities.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s the diplomatic way to explain it.” Penelope’s laugh carries the musical quality of a womanthoroughly enjoying herself at another’s expense. “Though I must say, I’m impressed by your resilience. Most people would be devastated by such a... public... professional rejection.”
The word ‘rejection’ hits exactly where she intended it to, because that’s what this morning was. Not just the end of a business partnership, but a personal dismissal delivered with clinical precision designed to minimize emotional fallout.
For him, anyway.
“Is there something specific you need, Mrs. Waters?” Jessica’s voice carries warning that anyone with functional social awareness would recognize as dangerous.
“Just offering support to a fellow small business owner during a difficult transition.” Penelope’s gaze shifts to the bulletin board covered with community event announcements and local business advertisements. “You know, if you ever need advice about maintaining professional boundaries in small communities, I’d be happy to share some insights.”
“That’s very generous,” I say, channeling every ounce of Southern grace my mother ever tried to teach me, “but I think I can manage my own business relationships.”
“Of course you can. You’ve done such an... interesting... job so far.”
The barb strikes home because it’s accurate. My track record with business relationships includes one spectacular betrayal by a romantic partner and now a professional dismissal by a guy I allowed myself to trust again.
“Was there anything else?” I ask, my patience fraying despite my best efforts to maintain polite indifference.
“Actually, yes.” Penelope’s expression brightens with genuine excitement. “I wanted to let you know that the Tourism Board approved my proposal for a coffee shop licensing program. We’ll be bringing some wonderful new options to Twin Waves over the next few months.”
The announcement hits like a physical blow. Because while I’ve been collaborating with Grayson on development solutions and community partnership, Penelope has been working behind the scenes to eliminate local business competition through official channels.
