Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Josie?” Sheriff Peeler says, startling me, his head poking through the open door again. “You ready? You’re about to have a riot out here.”
“Yeah,” I answer, and I have to clear the discomfort from my throat. “Of course. Let’s do it.”
Pete smiles again and backs out the door, and this time, I follow him. I see tons of familiar faces in a sweet little crowd and a beautiful pink ribbon out in front of the store. Fran and Peggy, two of the other small business owners in town, hold each end, and Eileen bends down at the edge of the sidewalk to get the best angle for the camera shot.
I make a point to smile at faces I know—Harold and Felix and Pete and Melba and even Betty Bagley—as I make my little speech.
“I just want to thank all of you for being here for me on this really special day. Opening this coffee shop has always been a dream of mine, and putting it into action has been my whole life for the last few months. I hope you’ll stop by each morning to see me, and that it’ll be the kind of start to your day that puts a smile on your face.”
“We love you, honey!” Melba claps, and I shrug a little self-consciously.
“So, yeah…” I look around the crowd, not sure who I’m even looking for, “I guess it’s time to cut the ribbon!”
Todd taps me on the shoulder to hand me a pair of scissors, and I snip the cute little strip dramatically. Instantly, tears hit my eyes, and everyone breaks into applause this time.
Summer’s toddler cheer is especially loud, almost like the shriek of a giant bird, and my gaze snaps to the back of the crowd at the sound. She waves, the tiny pink cast on her right arm sending me straight into a pool of emotion I’m not ready for at all.
I’ve missed her so much over the last few months and thought of her often, but it hasn’t felt quite right to keep myself inserted in Bennett’s life when he’s so close with Clay. Losing him means losing everything.
Bennett stands behind Summer’s stroller, and I don’t miss Clay’s presence beside him or the fact that his mouth is set in a firm but handsome line. I have to look away from the three of them before I start crying right here in front of everyone. I’m not surprised he’s here—he’s on the Red Bridge city council committee that does all of these small business ribbon-cutting ceremonies—but I am surprised he’s hung around this long.
Instead, I focus on welcoming the first customers into the store and rounding the counter to get to work. I have drinks to make and people to serve, and living in the past isn’t going to do anyone even one ounce of good.
We can’t go back. The finality of the papers I handed him in Grandma Rose’s kitchen four months ago made that reality.
I smile at Melba as she approaches the counter, her eyes glowing with a special sheen of tears I know is for my grandma. She clutches her chest, and I reach out to grab her wrist.
“Don’t,” I say softly, not wanting yet another reason to cry.
“She’d just be so proud of you, is all.”
I nod. She would be. Grandma Rose was my best friend and my biggest supporter, and having to live without her for the last almost seven months is a crime I’ll never forgive the universe for committing.
“All right, then. Enough of that.” She waves one hand in the air. “What can I try that’s not coffee? My stomach doesn’t handle it too well, and I don’t wanna have to make a doo-doo in the square.”
Her commentary is a relief that leaves my body in the form of shocked laughter. “Melba!”
“Just wait, dear,” she says with a shameless shrug of her petite shoulders. “Not even your bowel movements are reliable when you get to be my age.”
“How about one of our specialty lemonades?” I suggest, moving the conversation along to something that doesn’t revolve around Melba’s intestines. “They’re homemade and perfect for a warmer day like today.”
I point up to the menu behind me, and Melba pulls her reading glasses out of her purse, sets them on the bridge of her nose, and scans through the options before settling on one. “I think I’m going to try the Pink Flamingo.”
“That’s a good one.” I smile. “Strawberry and cherry lemonade topped with a little lemon sweet cream cold foam.”
Melba knocks her knuckles on the counter. “Yep. I like the sound of it.”
“Pink Flamingo!” I yell out to Todd behind me, ringing the very first purchase into my cash register. “That’ll be $5.75.”
Melba rummages around in her change purse, dumping four dollars’ worth of quarters and two dollars’ worth of nickels and dimes on the counter, and each coin clinks against the wood musically. The woman is known for her change, and I don’t mind counting it all out for her. Though, when I start to hand her a quarter back, she shakes her head. “No, no, dear. You keep it as a tip.”