Page 22 of Christmas in Watch Hill
Steve took the handheld broom and dustpan from the cabinet underneath the main sink and rushed to my side. Together we worked to get every grain of coffee from the floor, then wiped down the tile for good measure.
“Of course, I would have spilled the Guatemalan roast,” I said when we’d finished, talking more to myself than to Steve. That coffee hadn’t been cheap to purchase, and I’d sourced it from a small farm deep in the middle of that country. “Not sure we can get more from our supplier before the new year.”
“Hopefully, we’ll have enough to make it through.” Steve looked at the front door. “By the way, who was that customer who came in a couple of minutes ago? It sounded like you knew him.”
“Oh, that was no one.”
I knew the tone of my voice implied that yes, the customerwassomeone I knew, but I didn’t care to talk about it with Steve. He was a friend, and I sometimes confided in him, but I wasn’t ready to do so at the moment. I stood as Steve walked the spilled coffee beans to the trash can and threw them away. Suddenly, though, I wanted to be alone.
Neededto be alone.
“Hey, I was thinking, we’re not busy right now, anyway,” I called to Steve. “We can probably close early. In fact, let’s go ahead and do that.”
Steve didn’t argue with me, and I knew he appreciated the early night off this close to Christmas. We’d both been working so hard to make Already Perked successful, and it had been a long year. In fact, the short four-day weekend I took to DC over Halloween represented the only real vacation I’d had since taking over the shop.
That fact stood out to me.
When I worked in my previous life as a bookkeeper, I used my savings for at least three vacations a year, and a trip abroad at least every two. But things were different now that I was the mistress of my own destiny and had the chance to pursue my own slice of the American dream. It was my responsibility to make Already Perked a triumph. That would only happen if I stayed at the helm and did the hard work of making it run the way I wanted.
Once alone in the shop, I sank into the leather couch near the bookshelf full of board games, hardcover books, and magazines. It was warm and quiet, the large picture windows near the door fogged from the intersection of cold December air and heat.
Here it is, the end of the year. At last.
I yawned, and it occurred to me how tired I truly felt. Running this business had been more difficult than I expected, especially lately. I’d been so depleted and rundown from the extra effort required to fulfill specialty coffee orders as people stopped between shopping trips, parties, and family trips to get Christmas trees or extra lights for their home.I guess the season has finally caught up with me.
A nap was just what I needed.
THREE
IAN
My aunt and uncle livedin an Edwardian revival on one of the leafier streets of Watch Hill, a road that twisted and turned between well-maintained houses and manicured lawns. Their neighborhood brought a certain kind of vintage charm to the village. And when I arrived on Cherry Hill Lane after a long day of travel, I had to admit even I felt some of the Christmas spirit as I took in the carefully strung lights and inflatables decorating her lawn and the others on the street. My aunt always loved the holidays, that part hadn’t changed.
Thank God, because so much aboutmy lifehad.
DC hadn’t been what I thought it would be five years earlier when I packed my bags and moved from Chicago to the nation’s capital. After starting my career at an international bank, I wanted to try my luck as a lobbyist for Meals and Change, a political action committee focused on food insecurity and the fight to reduce fruit and vegetable waste. At the time, I’d been so sure I could make a difference. I was going to hit the Hill and make things move, changing the outcome for future generations.
