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“It’s the official grand opening of the Sparks coffee bar and book lounge,” Grampa said, waving his arm in an arc.
It was perfect.
Tables, chairs, comfortable but chic loveseats and one longer couch filled the space in front of the bar. The whole area had been freshy painted and hung with Bohemian-looking art. Macrame, tie-dye, and other abstracts gave the entire place an easygoing flair.
Everything from the light fixtures to the rugs on the floor had obviously been chosen with care and an eye toward the laidback, cozy design.
Melanie really was good, I thought guiltily.
“What do you think?” Grampa asked.
“It’s perfect.”
“Not quite yet.” He took my hand and led me behind the bar. Then I looked past him to see Chris with something folded up in his hands. He stopped in front of me and held it out.
It was an apron that said, “I run on books and caffeine” with a logo on the pocket: Sparks Bookstore and Coffee Lounge. The design was professional, and I realized that the mugs bore the same logo with funny sayings about coffee and books on the opposite sides.
“Oh my God,” I said, looking around in amazement. “You did all this in the last few days?”
“With some help, of course.”
“Chris, I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“Whoa, whoa,” he said. “Save the speech for the ribbon cutting.” He pulled a pair of scissors decorated with a bow from behind his back. I have some connections, so I managed to do some online advertising. A little word of mouth at local restaurants, that sort of thing.”
I was stunned. I looked between him and Grampa, and then Sean appeared. “Hey, this looks fantastic.”
“You knew about this too?”
“The T-shirts were my idea!” he said proudly, pointing to a rack on the wall that held stacks of multi-colored T-shirts with the Sparks logo on the chest. “And the coupons.”
I looked at Chris. “Coupons?”
“Buy a coffee on opening day, get a free coffee on another visit in the next month. He’s a marketing whiz, who knew.”
“I certainly didn’t,” I said with a laugh. This was everything I’d wanted, and a fantastic way to drum up business for the bookstore. It felt like Christmas morning.
Chris put the scissors on the counter. “Oh, one more thing before the crowd gets here. Would you go upstairs for a second and look down?”
I wanted to grab Chris and hug him, tell him I was sorry. I was so overwhelmed with what he’d done, I wanted to cry, happy tears for a change. And he wanted to me to look down from the balcony? “Upstairs?”
“Yeah. Hurry up, hurry up,” he said, shooing me with his hands.
I laughed as I went up the stairs, wondering what else was in store. When I looked down, I didn’t see anything different. Then he pulled on a tan trench coat, rolled up his sleeves, and held up a . . . boombox?
He held it high above his head while he looked up at me. Somebody was singingin your eyes.
“What are you doing?” I said.
He scoffed. “What do you mean, what am I doing?” he said, thrusting the boombox higher. “I’m wooing you!”
37
CHRIS
Sav’s facewhen she saw the transformation at the Sparks had been all I’d hoped for. I knew that wasn’t enough—I couldn’t just present her with the renovated lounge area and hope that would make everything okay. But it was a hell of a start.
I’d figured she would stay away while she was off, if only to avoid seeing me. That was okay. The wait would be worth it.
