Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
I peered closer at the crowd. A good number were from the church, while others were fellow small business owners or neighbors. Holden and Cal were near the front of the line, along with Monroe and Knox. Other friends, classmates, and trivia night regulars were also in line. They’d all turned out, but a few familiar faces left me gasping.
A group of former baristas—kids I’d trained, all grown up now—stood to the side. There was Jeff, a little girl under each arm, adoring wife by his side. Mitzi, one of my earliest success stories, was in her mid-twenties now, sporting a baby bump with a bemused partner by her side. Kyle and what looked like his entire gaming group were there. And still others. Well over a decade of work represented in the growing clump of people connected with Blessed Bean. Some had only been with us a few weeks, while others were woven into the fabric of the place, vivid reminders of our lengthy history.
“They all came,” I marveled, barely able to suck in a complete breath. My heart hammered and a tremor raced through me. “So many people. And how are we supposed to serve them? They can’t all want cold brew or iced tea.”
“You’ll use that.” Guiding me past the line of people, Worth led me to the front and pointed at a gleaming espresso machine, which was most definitely not our ancient rattletrap. And this one was apparently working, a fact evidenced by the number of patrons holding hot beverages.
“Worth.” Eyes wide, I turned toward him. “What did you do?”
“Me?” Worth put a hand to his chest, way too innocently to be believed. “Nothing.”
“Sam. Come see.” Marta came around the counter to tug me over to the new machine, a far larger and fancier one than the one we’d made do with all these years.
“Where did this come from?” I looked around the room as a coffee cart owner I recognized from Portland stepped forward. I’d placed several kids with Robby and his friend, Brady, who was also there.
“I needed to upgrade one of my machines.” Robby pointed at the machine, which looked in far too good of condition to be slated for upgrade. But when I narrowed my eyes, Robby held up a hand. “You’ve given me so many great employees over the years. Cutting you a good deal was an easy decision.”
“I’m…I’m not sure we can even do a deal on something this nice used.” My chest hurt, a bleak and hopeless pit opening behind my sternum. Our cash flow situation was that bad. He’d have to take this machine and all the lovely goodwill it represented back.
“It’s already taken care of.” Brady gestured toward the group of my former baristas.
“Your kids have your back.” Mitzi strode over to put an arm around me. “We all chipped in.”
My kids. They really were, all of them. I’d thought I was waiting for a family, sorting through all the foster system red tape, remodeling the house, and furnishing bedrooms, but this was already my family. Every face told a story. My first recipient of a work training grant. The barista who’d stayed on for four years and trained countless others. The families of origin I’d watched reconcile, and the found families I’d seen created. Former roommates, coworkers, and even a few marriages directly linked to this place, to me.
“Your name alone is a powerful fundraiser.” Robby chuckled. “Try to use your talents only for good.”
“So much was donated that we’re good on cash flow even before today’s take comes in,” Worth added.
“Oh my word.” All I could do was gasp, utterly in awe of the scene and the generosity.
“Sit down before you fall down.” Worth steered me into the nearest chair, one of the last open ones. The place was utterly packed, to the point where there were several chairs I didn’t recognize among our usual assortment and the pet patio overflowed as well.
“Look how empty Green Label is.” Marta let out a very George-like cackle, which predictably drew him to Marta’s side.
“We’re gonna chase them out of business.” George rubbed his hands together.
“Or, at the very least, remind people how important this place is.” Standing behind me, Worth laid a hand on my shoulder. “You’re the heart of this town, Sam. And people need to remember that.”
“Me?” I could think of many long-standing citizens more deserving of that title. My father. Frank and Leon. Rob, the police chief. Doctor Betty, the same pediatrician who had treated me and was now treating the next generation of Safe Harbor kids. The entire faculty of the public school system. “I’m barely a finger or toe. Not the heart.”
My joke fell flat as no one laughed. Instead, many people were nodding and more than a couple said, “Yes, you.”
“This is more than a coffee house.” Stepping around my chair, Worth swept his arms wide. “It’s an institution. A saving grace for so many people for a lot of very different reasons. It’s a gathering spot, a launching pad, and a safe place to land.”