Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Jake

" A re you open?" a young woman calls from across the street when I'm turning the key to unlock the front door to Coffee Loft.

"Not yet. Give me fifteen minutes." I shut the door behind me and relock it for good measure. As much as I love the recent success of this particular Coffee Loft franchise, it comes with its downside. Being stalked at five-thirty in the morning is one of them.

My first stop is the coffee grinder. I pulverize a batch of blonde roasted beans and start the first pot of the day. The familiar aroma with floral tones settles me and instantly improves my mood. While it runs, I take a gander over to the Wishing Wall. A sense of pride fills me when I see a fresh set of notecards. I pull a pen and pad from my back pocket and get to work.

The wishes are left anonymously. Some people share their first name or initials, but for the most part, it's up to me and my fellow baristas to keep an eye on who puts up each of the cards, making a note of their names. A quick glance at their credit or debit card usually gives me what I need to get started on the wish. When it doesn't, I have a little chat with them on their next visit.

A regular is looking for a long list of childhood friends. A shy guy who orders black coffee every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday wishes for the courage to ask his long-time crush on a date. A couple who meet here once a week?—

"Oh good, you're here." Matthew, the owner, walks in, the young woman from earlier in tow.

I'm not sure why he's surprised. I've opened the coffee shop every morning since he hired me.

"And it smells like there's coffee." The woman steps to the counter. "Please tell me it's ready. I'm in desperate need of a caffeine fix."

I laugh and stroll over, pouring three cups and handing her one. "Here you go. This one's on the house."

Matthew raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything.

"Thanks." She takes her coffee and sips it, sighing happily before rushing out the door.

I get back to work, priming the espresso makers and setting out a fresh assortment of baked goods.

Matthew putters around the office and walks out with the cash drawer for the register a minute before six.

"Ready to open the door?" I ask, looking at him across the cup that holds the last sip of my coffee.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Matthew takes his position behind the counter, and I head over to flip the sign to open. The door is still unlocked, and I'm surprised none of the small group of people waiting outside has tried to enter.

I pull it open and wave them inside. "Welcome to Coffee Loft."

We spend a good hour and a half working through the morning rush, struggling to keep up until Julie comes in, thirty minutes late because of a flat tire.

"That's the third one this month," Matthew grumbles while she ties her apron around her waist and takes her place next to me.

"I know. I wish I could afford a fresh set of tires." She steams a small pitcher of milk. "I don't think they'll plug them again. I had to talk them into it this time."

Matthew coughs and turns to face her. "I'll see if I can get you a few more hours over the weekend if you'd like."

"I'm happy to cut back for a couple of weeks." I could use a bit of a break. I have yet to do much exploring around Wilmington and wouldn't mind spending a day on the beach before the weather turns too cold to go for a dip in the Atlantic.

"Won't be necessary," Matthew grumbles. "Sales have picked up enough. I'm actually considering hiring someone else part time."

"I'd love to go full time," Julie says.

"What about your acting?" Matthew raises an eyebrow.

"Let's just say it isn't going as well as I'd hoped." Julie shrugs. "I'm taking some classes, but for now, I'm considering myself a full-time barista. If you're on board with that."

"Can you start this week?" Matthew asks. When she nods, he heads to the small office in the back to rework the schedule.

"Sorry about the acting." I don't know what else to say. I don't know Julie well, but it's clear she's passionate about it and from the few commercials she's shown me on YouTube, she looks pretty good at it to me. But what do I know?

"It'll turn around. I heard about this bar downtown where a lot of actors and producers hang out. Wanna go check it out with me tonight?" Julie asks.

I'm torn. I don't like the idea of the young woman heading out on her own. She's barely old enough to drink. At the same time, I don't want her to get the wrong idea.

"One drink." She flutters her eyelashes at me. "I'm buying."

"One drink," I agree.

"You're the best." She grins and pops a cake pop that fell off its stick into her mouth.

Matthew rejoins us when the crowd thins.

"I'll go straighten the tables." Julie grabs a cleaning rag and our eco-friendly disinfectant spray, then rushes to a set of tables that were recently vacated.

"I love what you're doing with that Wishing Wall of yours," Matthew says while I collect a tray of dirty coffee cups.

"Thanks for letting me put it up." The idea for the community board had popped into my head on my first day here, after listening to a young mom wishing for another adult to talk with. I managed to mix up her drink order with that of another woman who looked to be about her age and the two of them hit it off, meeting here at least twice a week to have coffee and catch up.

"If you ask me, it's the big reason business has picked up the way it has," Matthew says, looking pleased. "That and your latte art skills."

I scoff. If there's one thing I'm not good at, it's drawing hearts and swirls with foamed milk and the dark liquid beneath.

"I'm serious. I got an email from a TV producer asking if we'd mind if a camera crew stopped by sometime this week. I guess some reporter stopped in and took an interest." He leans against the counter, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "I told them to stop by anytime."

"Of course you did," I mutter under my breath, turning to hide my annoyance. With my luck, they'll show up during the morning rush.

"What was that?" Matthew asks.

"Happy to help any way I can," I say when I turn back. "Though I'm not sure what there is to report about any of this." I wave my hands around the shop. It's cozy and Matthew is right. Business has picked up. "We could tell them about the new lineup of fall drinks, I guess."

He shakes his head. "This isn't going to be some pumpkin spice story. They want to interview you about your Wishing Wall."

I groan. For the first time since nailing up the large corkboard, I'm regretting my idea of bringing the caffeine-loving community of this side of Wilmington together.

"Chin up, you'll do great." Matthew pats me on the shoulder, pours himself the last of the regular coffee, and disappears into his office.

As the morning progresses, I find myself wondering who this TV reporter could be. When I catch a glimpse of someone with dark locks and olive skin, I think back on the beauty who brightened my day yesterday. I don't know her name, but Vanilla Spice Latte had taken an interest in the wall as well. Surely it couldn't be her, could it?

"What's gotten into you?" Julie asks when she rushes over to take the order of a customer who must have been trying to get my attention.

"Nothing." I focus my attention back to the task at hand.

"Right." She watches me like a hawk as morning turns to afternoon.

And no matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about the woman from yesterday. Each time the bell above the door chimes, my eyes flicker there, hoping to see her waltz in and order another coffee.

To distract myself, I pull out my notes from this morning. There is a wish I can't get out of my mind. I walk back to the wall to refresh my memory before knocking on the door to the boss's office.

"Come on in." Matthew leans back in his chair and shuts his laptop.

"How would you feel about using the coffee shop as a venue for a romantic anniversary dinner?" I ask.

"Jake Harrison, I didn't know you were… attached."

I laugh and shake my head before filling him in on the wish of an elderly couple who are regulars. "Hank wants to do something nice for Louise, but they're on a fixed income. I'd love to set up a romantic dinner for them here."

Matthew's eyes gleam with excitement. "Let's do it. And see if we can take pictures to share on social media. Maybe we can get the camera crew to film it."

Before he can shoot off an email to the TV producer, I shake my head. "I think this is more of a private affair. We wouldn't want to take advantage of their situation."

"Oh." Matthew moves his hand away from the laptop he was about to crack back open. "That's a good point. What else do you have on that wall of yours that we could use?"