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Jogging to recover the ball, I said, “I think we’ll need to find our own place sooner rather than later.”
Cammie nodded seriously. “When is my first practice?”
The one thing I’d promised Cammie was I’d register her for a team as soon as we moved. Thankfully, we’d arrived just in time for the spring season. Tossing the ball to her, I said, “Softball starts next week.”
Cammie’s whole face screwed up, and I knew I was in for a fight. “I want to play baseball. Not softball.”
“I don’t think girls can play baseball,” I said carefully. I wasn’t sure if there was a rule, but there must be something.
She placed her hand and glove on her hips. “Grandma helped me look it up. Girls can play baseball until eighth grade.”
“Why would you want to play it if you can only do it through eighth grade?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d made an error.
“For now.I can only play through eighth gradenow.”
“Are you planning on changing that rule?” I asked, pride coursing through me.
Cammie shrugged.
She was so like me. Competitive and driven. I hoped it would always be a plus for her like it was for me. I wondered if Brooke was like that as a child.
“You promised to register me for baseball.”
I must have missed that or assumed she meant softball. “I’ll look into it.”
That seemed to appease her because she got back into her pitching stance. Crouching down again, I signaled a knuckleball. Cammie’s tongue darted out as she concentrated on her grip and the throw. That time, it was a strike.
“Strike one,” I called as I stood and approached her.
“Do you think they’ll let me pitch?” My heart ached for her because it was possible the boys wouldn’t want to play with a girl. They might even make fun of her, and I couldn’t protect her from everything.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see.” My stomach rolled at the thought of her not being welcomed.
She nodded seriously. “I want to be the best baseball player.”
I ruffled her hair. “You’ll be the best at whatever you do.”
I believed in her. I was driven, and she showed all the signs that she was similar to me. She loved competition, even if she wasn’t always the best at handling defeat. We were two peas in the same pod.
I’d make sure Bean Rush was successful so we could have the life she deserved. One where her father was present and involved, and her grandparents could help out. I had to be enough for her, even if it was a daunting prospect.
“What do you think about this, boss?” My manager, Christopher, asked as he stepped back from the framed photos of Annapolis on the wall.
We’d hired a local photographer to take pictures of local buildings and the harbor for the decor.
“A little more to the left,” I said, noticing the slightly crooked frame of Juliana’s Bed & Breakfast. I wanted to welcome locals and tourists. When they stopped by to purchase their favorite drink, I wanted them to feel at home.
“I think it was a great idea to showcase Annapolis.”
“Me, too.” I’d run the numbers before I decided to open the coffee shop and looked into what Annapolis was missing. There wasn’t much, but I’d noticed there were multiple businesses of most things except for coffee or juice. I had no interest in running a juice shop, but I was passionate about coffee beans. I’d become a connoisseur over the years and loved the idea of having a small, quaint shop that appealed to everyone.
“You’re not worried about Java Coffee?” Christopher asked as he used a feather duster to clean off the frames.
I was more worried about how Cammie’s first day at school was going.
Refocusing on Christopher’s question, I said, “I’m not worried, even though they’re our main competition.” I never admitted weakness. Instead, I researched Brooke’s business model. Her website was professional and up to date. She offered various book clubs, a battle of the books—whatever that was—trivia nights, and children’s story times. I told myself it was business, and it had nothing to do with learning more about the owner.
I didn’t know Brooke owned the competing coffee shop before I ran into her the other night at Harbor Garage, but knowing the truth didn’t change my plans. I intended to pull customers away from her store. It would be just like old times. We’d researched the other’s business models and made marketing plans accordingly.
