Chapter 1: Kit
Coffee shops were one of my very favorite places to be, but especially on a bright snowy day. I hurried down the sidewalk toward my favorite coffee shop, The Bean. The windows had been decorated with snowflakes and snowmen. I pulled the door open and heard the gentle ring of their doorbell. The warm air was filled with the sweet smell of coffee and pastries. I inhaled deeply and couldn’t help but smile. I loved all of it: the oversized furniture, the funky art, the festive Christmas music. For me, walking into The Bean was like walking into a warm hug.
It was the Monday after Thanksgiving, and the Bean was busy today. I joined the line of customers waiting to order. The pastry case was filled with holiday themed treats. I took another deep breath and smelled the seasonal, sweet smell of peppermint.
“Good morning,” I said cheerily to the barista, Stef.
“Good morning, Kit.” Stef smiled then asked, “Your usual?”
I tapped my finger against my chin thoughtfully and said, “You know, today I’m feeling the holiday spirit. Can I get the White Christmas Mocha and a chocolate croissant?”
“Of course!” Stef said, tapping the tablet. As she twirled the tablet to face me so that I could select a gratuity and sign, she picked up a platter of cookies and asked, “And would you like a complimentary snowflake cookie?”
“I would love one!” I exclaimed. I tapped the tablet with my card, signed my name, and selected a snowman cookie. “This is so nice. What’s the special occasion for the free cookie?”
“Business hasn’t been great,” Stef admitted. We’re trying to reward our regulars in whatever way we can so we don’t lose their business over the holidays.”
“Well, I think it’s a brilliant touch, and it looks like it’s working. You’re busier than usual!” I said. Stef smiled at me as I put an additional tip into the tip jar. I know how hard it can be for small shops during the holiday season. We rely heavily on summer and fall tourism in our North Georgia town. The winter months are hard for everyone.
As I stepped to the side to wait for my order, I pulled out my cell phone to check my work email. Running a small-town library kept me pretty busy because we had such a small staff. I heard the customer behind me order, “Americano.”
“Would you like a complimentary cookie?” Stef asked, offering the plate of snowflake cookies to the man.
“No, thanks,” the man said and abruptly turned and joined me at the end of the counter to wait for his drink. I made eye contact with Stef, who raised both eyebrows. I blew a little air between my lips and said under my breath, “Bah humbug.”
The man pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his pea coat. His thick, dark eyebrows pushed together as he began scrolling with his thumb. I tried not to stare. He was well-dressed with a sleek overcoat and grey cashmere scarf. He had dark hair styled in a low maintenance way that accentuated his square jawline. Despite being well-dressed, he didn’t have a pretty-boy vibe. Rather, he had the kind of rugged good looksthat were striking. His broad shoulders filled the overcoat, which was tight around his biceps.
I averted my eyes before he noticed that I was looking at him. I reminded myself that being good-looking wasn’t an excuse for being unfriendly.
Stef came over and set two white paper cups with lids on the counter. “Your drinks are ready.”
“Thank you, Stef,” I said.
The man and I both reached for the white paper cups and parted ways. I headed for a big comfy leather chair near the window. As I collapsed into it, I sighed. Ella Fitzgerald’s “Sleigh Ride” started playing over the speakers. I bit the top hat off the perfectly decorated snowman cookie. Then I picked up my cup to take a swig, but was startled by a deep, gruff voice.
“I think you have my drink.”
I fumbled my snowman cookie and coffee cup. I looked up into the dark, piercing eyes of the man from the coffee counter.
“Excuse me?” I tried to say, but my mouth was still full of cookie and a crumb escaped. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth. I could feel my cheeks turning pink.
“You picked up my drink at the counter,” the man said without a smile. “This one is yours.”
“Oh.” I looked down at the cup as if I expected it to tell me if he was telling me the truth or not. “How did you know?”
“Did you order some kind of sugary thing?” He held the cup out as if he was holding something that totally disgusted him. “I didn’t drink from this one, but it smells…Christmassy.” He sneered, not trying to hide his dislike, as he pushed the cup out toward me.
We exchanged cups, and he opened the lid to examine the contents of his. With a crooked smile, he showed me. “See? black coffee.”
“Okay,” I said after finally choking down the dry cookie. As I awkwardly shifted in the overstuffed chair, I set my drink down with more force than I had intended. I practically grunted, “Crisis averted. Thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem,” the man said, shoving his free hand into his pocket. His smile had faded into a grimace. He turned on the heel of his brown oxfords and headed for the door. I watched until the door’s bell stopped ringing.
Stef appeared next to me holding my warmed chocolate croissant and the plate of cookies. She gestured at the plate. “Would you like the city slicker’s cookie?”
“The city slicker?” I asked, picking a snowflake cookie this time.
“Yeah.” Stef put one hand on her hip. “That’s what we’ve been calling him. He’s been in here every morning for a week.”
