Page 99 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start
I hang up and focus on the espresso machine, letting the familiar routine calm my nerves. The morning crowd has thinned to just Mrs. Hensley in her usual corner, reading the newspaper with gossip-hunting intensity.
The bell chimes above the door. I glance up, expecting another regular with pitying eyes.
David stands in my doorway.
My hands freeze on the steam wand. He looks exactly the same—perfectly styled hair, expensive suit, that smile I once thought meant affection before I learned it was just his hunting face.
“Hello, Michelle.”
Ice floods my veins. This isn’t happening. Not today. Not when I’m already hanging by a thread.
“What are you doing here?”
“Heard about your grant success. Impressive work.” He moves toward the counter, and I step back instinctively. “Historic preservation paired with community development. Very clever.”
“Get out.”
“Don’t be hostile. I drove all the way from Nashville to congratulate you.” His gaze sweeps the coffee shop. “This place has real potential now that you have funding.”
“I said get out.”
“Actually, I think we should discuss business. You always were brilliant with community organizing, and I have some ideas about maximizing these grants.”
The words hit me. This is exactly what Grayson warned me about—people wanting to exploit my community connections. Except now it’s David standing here with designs on my grants.
“I’m not interested.”
“You haven’t heard my proposal yet.” David leans against the counter, making himself comfortable. “What if I told you I could triple your preservation funding impact?”
“I’d say you’re lying.”
“Same old Michelle. Always suspicious.” His laugh makes my skin crawl. “I’ve learned a lot since we worked together. Mydevelopment company specializes in historic preservation now. We could be partners again.”
Partners.The word makes me nauseous.
“We were never partners. You stole my ideas and left me broke.”
“That was a misunderstanding. Business decisions that benefited both of us eventually.” David’s voice takes on that smooth tone he used when he wanted something. “Look how successful you are now. This coffee shop, the community support, the grants. I helped you become stronger.”
“By betraying me?”
“By teaching you independence. And now that independence has created something valuable.”
Mrs. Hensley clears her throat loudly from her corner. “Michelle, honey, do you need me to make a call?”
“No thanks, Mrs. Hensley. Mr. Norris was just leaving.”
“Actually, I was hoping we could have lunch. Discuss opportunities that would benefit Twin Waves.” David’s smile sharpens. “I’ve been following your project development. The collaborative approach with local contractors is very innovative.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Small business networks. Everyone’s talking about your partnership with Grayson Reed.” David pulls out his phone, swiping to show me a social media post. “Caroline’s Instagram is particularly informative. Such sweet photos of you two working together on ‘historic preservation magic.’ Her followers eat up that small-town romance angle.”
My stomach drops. Caroline’s been documenting our collaboration for weeks, posting pictures of us bent over blueprints, sharing coffee, laughing over grant applications. To her college friends, we probably looked like the perfect small-town power couple building something beautiful together.
To a man like David, we looked like a business opportunity ripe for exploitation.
“She tagged your coffee shop in every post. Made it very easy to track your progress.” David’s smile sharpens. “Though I notice he’s not here anymore. Trouble in paradise?”
