Page 70 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
Chapter 24
"Are you sure about this?"I survey Mountain Brew's interior, transformed overnight with a mockup of workstations and tech setups occupying what was once my quiet seating area. Laptops hum on sleek desks, power strips snake discreetly along baseboards, and a temporary high-speed internet hub blinks in the corner—a vision of what my coffee shop could become if I embraced Max's idea.
The flutter of nerves in my stomach hasn't subsided since he first proposed it. Mountain Brew reimagined as a haven for remote workers, digital nomads, and local professionals seeking both premium coffee and a functional workspace. My cozy shop would maintain its artisanal soul while expanding into territory I'd deliberately avoided since fleeing BrewTech.
"Absolutely sure." Max's confidence is infectious as he adjusts one of the demonstration laptops, ensuring the screen is visible from all angles.
His hand brushes mine as he reaches past me, and the casual contact still sends electricity shimmering through my veins. Since our reconciliation, his words echo in my mind constantly:I want to build something with you. Something real.
This morning, he arrived before dawn with a small team, transforming half of my shop into this prototype remote workspace while preserving the rustic charm of the original café area. Now Mountain Brew feels like a physical manifestation of my divided self—the coffee artisan and the tech innovator, no longer at war but working in harmony.
"Angel's Peak has no dedicated workspace for remote professionals," Max continues, surveying his handiwork with pride. "With more companies embracing flexible work policies, there's a growing market of people who need more than their kitchen table but less than a formal office."
I run my fingers along one of the desks, imagining a coder typing away while enjoying a pour-over, or a graphic designer sketching concepts beside a steaming latte.
"And you think my coffee shop is the right place for this?"
"I think it's the perfect place. It’s been a haven for me these past few weeks." His eyes meet mine, warm with an unspoken question:Do you see it now? The possibility?"Mountain Brew already has the atmosphere people crave—authentic, comfortable, with exceptional coffee. All it needs is the infrastructure to support digital work."
Three days after our reconciliation, what began as a casual conversation has evolved into this tangible demonstration. The mockup workspace occupies the back half of my café—five elegant workstations with ergonomic chairs, charging ports, and small privacy dividers, all designed to complement rather than overshadow the coffee shop's aesthetic.
Local business owners begin arriving for our private preview, curiosity evident in their expressions—Ruth from The PickAxe, Margie from the bakery, Hannah from the library, even Dominic and Elena representing Silverleaf Vineyards. Each arrival sends a fresh wave of nervous anticipation through me. These people—my people—are about to witness the merging of my carefully separated worlds.
"Welcome, everyone!" Max addresses the small gathering, standing confidently beside one of the workstations. The pride blooming in my chest takes me by surprise. This brilliant man, who could have anyone, anywhere, wants to build something with me.
In Angel's Peak.
The thought still feels surreal, like a dream I might wake from at any moment.
"Thank you for joining us this morning to experience a glimpse of what Mountain Brew could become—not just Angel's Peak's premier coffee destination, but also its first dedicated remote work space."
As Max continues explaining the concept, I watch realization dawn across the faces of Angel's Peak's business owners. This isn't just about my coffee shop—it's about transforming our entire town's economy.
"The beauty of this model," Max explains, moving through the mockup workstations, "is how it creates a ripple effect throughout the community. Digital nomads and remote workers don't just need coffee and Wi-Fi—they need places to stay, restaurants to eat at, and activities to enjoy after work hours."
Ruth's eyes light up with understanding. "Like my bar. Remote workers finishing their day might want to unwind at The PickAxe."
"Exactly," Max confirms, gesturing toward her. "And they'd need accommodations?—"
"Mabel's Guesthouse could offer weekly rates for longer stays," Margie suggests, excitement building in her voice. "Or The Haven for those wanting more luxury."
Dominic Mercer, typically reserved, leans forward with interest. "Wine enthusiasts working remotely could scheduletasting events at Silverleaf after their workday. We could even create special 'digital nomad' vineyard tours."
The conversation explodes with possibilities, everyone suddenly seeing how their business could benefit from this new demographic. Hannah from the library suggests digital literacy workshops. Sheriff Donovan mentions enhanced safety protocols for solo travelers. Even Pete from the General Store chimes in about expanding his inventory to include tech accessories and travel essentials.
I stand back, watching my community embrace a vision I would have run from just weeks ago. The irony isn't lost on me—that my past in tech, the very thing I've hidden for so long, might become the catalyst for Angel's Peak's economic revival. Not through corporate exploitation, but through thoughtful integration of technology with our mountain town values.
"This could put Angel's Peak on the map for an entirely different kind of tourist," Eleanor Morgan observes, her shrewd eyes assessing the mockup. "Not just those seeking outdoor adventure, but professionals looking to combine work with mountain living."
"Seasonal businesses could become year-round," Ruth adds, calculations clearly running behind her eyes. "Winter months when tourism typically drops?—"
"Would be filled with remote workers escaping city winters," Max finishes, nodding. "Exactly. The beauty of digital nomads is they often travel counter-cyclically to traditional tourists, filling in your slow seasons."
The energy in the room builds, everyone contributing ideas, seeing connections I hadn't even considered. This isn't just about expanding my coffee shop—it's about creating an ecosystem where technology enhances rather than replaces our community's character.
I catch Max watching me, his expression a mixture of pride and question.Do you see it now? his eyes seem to ask. And I do—I see how my two worlds, tech and coffee, could merge to create something greater than either alone. How my past doesn't have to be buried to build my future.
For the first time since fleeing San Francisco, I allow myself to imagine a life that doesn't require hiding half of who I am. A life where Mountain Brew becomes a bridge between worlds—my worlds—creating something entirely new in the process.
