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Ansley


Iwake up at three in the morning. I’m too full of nervous anticipation to sleep, so I make my way downstairs and start going over the inventory for the hundredth time in the last two days. I sweep the immaculate floors and rearrange the mugs and saucers until the sun threatens to rise. Then, I run up and take a quick shower, put on my first-day-of-work power outfit, and do my hair and makeup.

My two baristas, Janey and Deana, are prompt, coming in at six, and Mom and Dad show up a few moments later.

Mom sets up a ribbon outside the front door. Insisting that I need a ribbon-cutting today.

I pace back and forth as I watch the clock on the wall above the chalkboard menu.

“Ansley, sweetheart, you’re going to wear a path into your new floor,” Mom says as she tracks my steps.

“What if no one comes?” I ask.

“Don’t be silly. You’ll probably be turning them away,” she sings.

Her assurance does nothing to quench my fears, and I continue to fret until the clock strikes six thirty.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” I say as I make my way to the door.

I flip the sign from Closed to Open, and I turn the dead bolt. When I step outside, I’m met with a rolling roar of applause. A line at least a couple of blocks long has formed with people waiting for us to open.

I’m speechless as I take it all in.

Daddy clears his throat behind me. Being a pastor for most of his life, he knows how to command a crowd.

“Hi, everyone. I want to thank you all for coming to my daughter’s grand opening. I know it’s early and it’s nippy out here, so we aren’t going to keep you waiting. There’s a warm fire and hot coffee inside to knock the chill off. So, Ansley, sweetheart, cut this here ribbon, and I’ll say a quick prayer of blessing over the café. Then, you all can come on inside,” he says as Mom hands me a pair of large copper scissors.

With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I cut the ribbon.

A cheer erupts before everyone bows their heads while Daddy leads them in a short prayer.

We have been nonstop busy from the moment we opened. None of us can take a break until after ten. Mom and Daddy head home after the rush, and I send Janey and Deana, one at a time, to eat while I help the other hold down the fort. If traffic continues at this pace, I’ll have to hire additional help sooner rather than later.

Everyone loves the coffee and pastries and raves about the café itself. We’ve even sold quite a few books, mugs, bagged coffee, and other Well-Bred Café–logoed merchandise.

The best part is looking out over the storefront and seeing the people huddled together in front of the fire, talking and laughing. One teenager is at a back table with his laptop out and his earbuds in his ears, working away. A few people are scattered about with mugs in hand and books in their laps while others are perusing the shelves.

This—this—is what I dreamed it would be like.

The euphoric feeling trumps the exhaustion I’m experiencing deep in my bones at the moment.

The bell above the door chimes, and I look up to find Sara-Beth and Leona walking inside.

“Oh, Ansley, this place is magical,” Sara-Beth praises.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“How is your grand opening going?” Leona asks.

“It’s been insane. I didn’t realize this many people lived in Balsam Ridge,” I muse.

“You are our first full-fledged coffee shop. I’ve been excited to try all the fancy lattes. What do you suggest?” Leona asks.

I point them to the chalkboard. “We have everything. The craft coffees are espresso-based lattes, and we also have macchiatos and cappuccinos. The small has one shot, the medium two, and the large has a whopping three shots and will rev your engine. The board explains the difference in each one. You can get them flavored or with a little sugar and whipped cream or not. Then, we have a blonde, medium, and bold drip coffee brewed. Anything can be served cold or iced. Our latte of the day is the Beautiful Haze, which is a hazelnut and brown sugar latte,” I explain.

“I highly recommend it. Everyone loves it,” Deana interjects.

“It sounds delightful. I’ll have one of those,” Leona orders.

“And I’ll have the Cinn-Ful Mocha,” Sara-Beth requests.

“Great choice. Anything else for you ladies?” I ask.

“Hmm … slide me a slice of that banana-walnut bread too,” Leona adds.

“Would you like that warmed?” I ask.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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