Page 63 of Ablaze

I’m still processing the fact that the opportunity I waited for–the one I dreamed about so many times–all those years ago is now sitting across from me, awaiting my acceptance. The irony of how the tables have turned has me befuddled.

Jason lets his offer hang between us before he speaks again. “Mala, I’m sorry on behalf of the company that we didn’t reach out to you sooner when you’d applied, but perhaps you were destined for something bigger. And though the role seems immense to you at the moment, I assure you, you’ll have all my guidance and support to get your arms around it. I’ve done my research. You have the academic credentials and built this incredibly popular café practically from the ground up. You have what it takes.”

I want to ask how. How does he know so assuredly that I have what it takes? Yes, I’m passionate about what I do and have the formal schooling to back up running a business, but how does that make me more qualified than someone who has already led operations like the one Jason is describing?

Jason must see the questions written all over my face. “You’re both creative and a risk-taker, Mala. You haven’t just worked at a café over the years; you’ve poured everything you’ve had in it. You’ve marketed and advertised correctly; you’ve grown and diversified. You have several small business awards and incredible reviews. And from what I understand, you’re even taking on more custom orders, like the one Doggone placed.” He tilts his head. “And I’m willing to bet you have had to hire temporary additional staff to help with orders of that size. Therefore, you’ve had more experience in managing larger operations than you think.”

I chew my lip but don’t respond. He’s right, and he knows it. I have had to hire temporary staff to meet deadlines for orders of the size Doggone had wanted. And though he hasn’t said it, I’m sure he can guess that I even had to rent a commercial kitchen to have access to the number of ovens and other tools we needed to complete orders of that caliber.

I regard a couple walking back into the café from the backyard with their two dogs. They wave at me, and I wave back as they head out.

My pulse rises inside my chest. It’s not that I’m even considering taking Jason’s offer, but just the fact that he’s here asking me to join his team has me feeling like a porcupine hiding under balloons. I feel anxious, nervous.

It doesn’t even make sense, really, but even though a part of me wants him to leave–let me live my life as I have been–another part of me is intrigued.

I finger the burn scar on the inside of my wrist before adjusting the neck of my sweatshirt. “What about my café? I love my café. What about everything I’ve built here? How could I leave it all?”

How could I leave him?

Jason shifts in his seat. “My intent isn’t to ambush you with my proposition. I understand you’d have a lot to consider should you accept this position, but I assure you, you’d gain the type of experience you could never get anywhere else. The type of experience you could take to build something at an even bigger scale one day.”

“I’m happy with my current scale. I’m happy with what I have. It’s small, but it’s mine.”

I can’t imagine leaving this adorable bakery I’ve come to love, even for the sake of something I wanted so badly years ago. It’s become a second home for me–in some ways, I’ve spent more time here than I have my own home. It’s also become ingrained in the fabric of our little town. It’s the same reason I know almost everyone who stops by. I know their favorite drinks, the names of their pets, even their schedules.

So, Jason is right. I have built something unique here–something small and my own–but I’ve also built a life. I’ve built friendships.

Can I deny the growing pains or the months I’m barely covering the rising costs of both labor and ingredients? Can I deny the cost of maintaining a place like this? The cost of insuring and updating and remodeling?

No. Those are all constant worries I’m saddled with.

Can I deny the constant stress of not having a reliable barista who shows up for work every day?

I groan, looking at the time on my phone. Gus is late by twenty minutes at least, and I still haven’t received a call or text from him telling me why.

Jason takes my quick glance at the time as an indication of our meeting being over. He gets up just as I do, offering me another handshake. “I don’t need your answer today. Chew on it for a couple of weeks, figure out logistics for the café if you decide to take my offer, and then call me.”

He pulls out his wallet to hand me a card with his direct line. “You have a special gift, and I’m ready to make you an offer you’ll be hard-pressed to say no to. Allow me to tell you more about it when you’re ready to take the leap. Remember, it was once a dream of yours, and while it took a little time to fruition, it’s here for the taking now. But before you decide anything, ask yourself one question.” He pauses. “Do you have everything you want here?”

* * *

The next week both Gus and I are in the middle of trying to fix our secondary coffee machine on our own before the afternoon rush starts.

My shoulders slump. “I think I’m just going to have to buy another one. This is the fourth time it’s stopped working.”

“Maybe just have the repair guy out again to fix it?” Gus suggests, but even from the look on his face, I know he’s not convinced.

I sigh, wiping my hands on a towel. “Yeah, maybe. But, for now, we’re just going to have to let everyone know we’re a little backed up on orders.”

He nods, going back to replacing the parts we were examining while I make my way to the back to check on Betty. I’m just about to go through the double doors when the bell chimes and I look over my shoulder to see Jessie walk in.

“Hey, stranger!” I greet her, turning to walk over and give her a hug. “Good to see you!”

Jessie offers me a placatory smile and hug back, but her usual bright green eyes are red-rimmed above dark, puffy circles. Her normally voluminous red hair seems limp and tangled, like it hasn’t seen a brush in days.

“Oh, Jess. Are you okay?” Moving past a couple of customers in line, I rush her toward an empty table in the corner of the café. “Is this about Dean?”

It’s been a couple of months since Dean called things off with Jessie, and though I knew she was upset based on what he told me the next day, I didn’t expect her to be so morose even now. I chide myself internally for not checking in on her.

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