Page 3 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
"Your aura's darkening by the second, Lily Brock."
I force a smile. "Just thinking about the books. The quarterly taxes are due, and?—"
"And you'll figure it out, like you always do." Eleanor rises, leaving a generous tip beneath her mug as always. "Don't forget the mixer at The Haven tonight. You need to get out more."
"I'll try." We both know it's a lie.
Eleanor pauses at the door. "Oh, and Lily? Open that heart of yours a crack. The mountain air is good for healing old wounds."
The bell chimes her exit, and I'm alone again with the quietly hissing machines and my thoughts.
As morning progresses, the shop fills with the regular rhythm of locals. Mayor Reynolds arrives precisely at seven-thirty.
"Morning, Lily." He greets me with the practiced warmth of a career politician. "Double Americano, please. Council meeting at eight."
"Trouble in paradise?" I ask, pulling his espresso shots.
He sighs, rubbing his temple. "Lucas Reid is pushing for expanded parking near The Haven. The environmental committee is pushing back. And somewhere in the middle, I have to find a compromise that won't alienate half the town."
"Sounds like politics as usual." I slide his drink across the counter.
"The price of progress." He takes a grateful sip. "Speaking of which, how's business?"
My smile stiffens. "Holding steady."
Mayor Reynolds's expression grows serious. "I heard about the rent increase. If there's anything the town council can do?—"
"I appreciate the concern," I cut him off politely, "but I've got it under control."
He studies me for a moment, then nods. "Well, if you change your mind, my door's always open. Angel's Peak needs its best coffee shop."
After he leaves, I allow myself a moment of doubt. Perhaps I should accept help. Perhaps Eleanor's investment offer or the mayor's assistance could solve everything. But accepting help means owing something—becoming vulnerable again, dependent on others' goodwill.
I've been down that road before. Never again.
The morning brings a steady trickle of customers. The Johnsons share a cranberry muffin and hold hands across the table. Paul Ramsey from The Haven's maintenance team grabs coffee for the entire staff. Sheriff Donovan stops by to discuss the upcoming summer festival security.
At nine forty-five, the bell chimes again, and Hannah Lewis enters, her auburn hair piled messily atop her head, arms laden with books.
"Oh, thank god, you're still here," she says dramatically, dropping her library tote onto the counter with a heavy thud. "I need caffeine like I need oxygen right now."
I smile, already preparing her usual chai latte with an extra shot of espresso—what she calls her "librarian's little helper."
"Rough morning at the book repository?" I ask, steaming the spiced milk.
"Liam has a cold, so I was up half the night. Then Mrs. Winters came in first thing wanting to argue about the 'inappropriate content' in the young adult section." Hannah rolls her eyes. "Apparently, teenagers shouldn't know that kissing exists."
I slide her drink across the counter. "The usual censorship crusade?"
"Every spring like clockwork." She inhales the steam appreciatively. "You are a miracle worker, Lily Brock."
Hannah settles at the corner table by the window—her usual spot—and begins arranging books around her drink. I bring over a blueberry scone, knowing she'll have forgotten to eat breakfast.
"On the house," I say, placing it beside her.
She looks up with a grateful smile. "You're an angel. Oh! Speaking of angels, did you hear about our mysterious visitor?"
I suppress a sigh. "The tech guy from California? You're the third person to mention him this morning."
