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Chapter 4
ThemorningrushatPebble’s Brew was always a whirlwind of laughter, chatter, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I expertly crafted a cappuccino behind the counter, my hands moving with the ease of years of practice when the atmosphere shifted. The door swung open, and in walked Caleb Masters, causing an immediate hush among the patrons.
He stood tall, his midnight hair perfectly styled, stormy blue eyes deep-set under furrowed brows. He wore an impeccably tailored suit that seemed to hug all the right places, making him look the successful CEO he was. The confident stride with which he entered spoke volumes of his achievements, and I couldn’t help feeling a jolt of tension as our gazes locked for a brief moment.
The regulars paused mid-conversation, their attention drawn to the contrast between Caleb’s metropolitan elegance and the rustic warmth of Pebble’s Brew. It was as if a suit-clad shark had infiltrated our little fishbowl. I could practically hear the “Jaws” theme playing in my head.
“Morning, Zoe,” he greeted me, his voice carrying the faintest echo of our shared past. I steadied my breathing, determined not to let Caleb’s polished appearance unnerve me.
“Morning, Caleb,” I replied, smiling as I finished the cappuccino and handed it to the waiting customer. “To what do I owe this...surprise?”
“Can’t a guy visit the local coffee shop without raising suspicion?” he asked, flashing a charming smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Of course,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “But you’re not just any guy, are you?”
“Guilty as charged,” he admitted, leaning against the counter and taking out his smartphone. “And on that matter, I thought you should know that my company is now your landlord, so you’ll see me semi-regularly.”
“Uh… what? And… why?” I spluttered, struggling to think how to compose a reply, let alone a smart one.
“It’s part of the redevelopment. It just so happens that your building had a very… shall we say… affordable lease?”
“But my family has had this building since the 80s!”
“Correction—your family has rented this building since the 80s,” Caleb replied smugly.
“There’s more good news. Your monthly rent will be staying exactly the same… plus you’ll be getting business advice from yours truly, at no extra charge.”
Caleb smiled broadly, and I believe he genuinely thought I would be overjoyed to hear this.
“Well, that’s great about the rent, but I have a zero need for business advice—I’ve been running Pebble’s Brew successfully all by myself since my parents passed away, and the last thing I want is anyone interfering, especially you!” I managed to reply, my voice attempting a firm, controlled tone but coming out as more of a strangled squeak. The weight of my resistance hung in the air, like the aroma of freshly ground coffee struggling against the intrusion of an unwelcome scent.
“Zoe, I assure it’s not actually my decision. The lease has always stipulated that the landlord has say in how the tenant runs the business in the building. It’s just that your previous landlord never bothered,” Caleb explained, surprisingly not in a patronizing or smug way. His words held a pragmatic air, a reminder of the contractual realities that threatened to reshape the familiar landscape of Pebble’s Brew.
“Can we please quickly discuss the lease and my new role?” he said gently, his request a calm ripple in the tension-filled atmosphere. “If you have a few minutes?”
“Sure,” I agreed, my posture rigid against the counter as I reluctantly listened to him outline his vision for Pebble’s Brew. His gestures were precise and commanding, his phone an extension of his business acumen, each swipe and tap echoing the potential changes that loomed on the horizon.
“Zoe,” he began, his tone firm and reasonable, “I think there’s a lot of potential in this place. Pebble’s Brew could become even more successful with some modernization and strategic changes.”
“Modernization?” I repeated, my heart clenching at the thought of altering my parents’ precious legacy.
“Nothing drastic,” he assured me, presenting the lease documents with steady fingers. The cuffs of his designer shirt peeked out from the sleeves of his jacket, hinting at the meticulous attention to detail that seemed to be a hallmark of his character. “Just some updates to make the place more efficient and profitable.”
“Alright, let’s hear them,” I replied, clenching my jaw in anticipation.
“First, we need to update the menu. Add some trendy options—avocado toast, cold brew coffee, that sort of thing.” Caleb swiped through a presentation he’d prepared ahead of time, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. “It’ll appeal to a younger crowd.”
“Sure, because this town needs more hipsters,” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes.
“Second, consider offering free Wi-Fi. It’ll attract remote workers and generate more business during slower hours.” He looked at me expectantly, and I admit it was a solid suggestion.
“Fine, that one makes sense,” I conceded.
“Lastly, how about updating the interior? Some fresh paint, new furniture… It’ll make the place feel more inviting and modern,” he finished, looking around at our mismatched chairs with a critical eye.
“Hey, now, this place has character! And history!” I protested, feeling defensive over my parents’ legacy.
“Character is great, but there’s a fine line between charming and shabby. Trust me, these changes will be good for business,” he insisted, softening his tone ever so slightly. The clash of tradition and progress echoed in the air, and I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that Pebble’s Brew was on the brink of a profound transformation.
