Love And Coffee: A Cup Of Grace Romance Series Book 1 (7 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Matt,” I said with a smile. I smoothed the skirt of my dress down, just to be sure that I hadn’t wrinkled it when I took it off earlier.

              He stood up from the couch and smiled really big.  I loved that smile of his.

              “Tara, you look really nice,” he said.  He was dressed in Dockers and a navy blue polo shirt, and he smelled incredible. 

              “Thanks, you look pretty nice yourself.”  I had seen him in business clothes at work so it wasn’t a surprise to see him wear something other than jeans and a t-shirt, but I didn’t remember ever smelling cologne on him before.  It was nice and it suited him.

              We stood there and looked at each for a few moments.  Just admiring each other.

              “Well, shall we get going?” he finally asked.

              He didn’t need to ask twice.  I nodded at him and smiled a goodbye to the girls.  He was a perfect gentleman and opened my car door for me.  A girl could get used to this.

              “You kids have a good time,” Kathryn called from the still open apartment door.

              I waved at her and turned to Matt.

              I wish I could say I entertained him with witty and spirited conversation on the car ride over to the restaurant, but I was strangely tongue tied all of a sudden. Small miracles.

              At Olive Garden, he pulled my chair out for me.  Like I said, a girl could really get used to this kind of thing and I hoped he would be around long enough for me to do just that.

              I sat and stared at him while he talked, occasionally putting a piece of breadstick into my mouth.  A tiny piece, of course, to not give away that I wasn’t really a demure, cute little thing, but rather a ferocious eater that would tear into a half side of roast beef when starving.  Or challenged.  I once won a Twinkie eating contest in college.  32 Twinkies in 10 minutes.  Yes.  Be impressed.  I’ve got mad Twinkie skills.

              After a bit, he stopped and looked at me.  “What?” he said.

              I blushed.  “What what?”

              “You’re not saying a word and that is awfully unusual for you.”

              I gasped.  “What?  What are you talking about?  I am quiet and sweet and quiet and, and sweet.”

              “Oh, yes, of course. You’re so quiet.  Miss HAZMAT,” he said with a grin while breaking a bread stick in two.  “Of course, if we asked the bugs if you’re quiet, I bet they’d have another story.  All that screaming has scarred the survivors of the ensuing massacre.”

              I gasped.  “I am.  Just ask anyone.  I’m quiet.  And demure,” I said and then sipped my iced tea.  I tried to keep a straight face, but no way could I do that.  I burst out laughing, thankful that iced tea did not pour out of my nostrils.  When I caught my breath, I said, “And I do not care if those bugs are scarred or not.  They need to be dead.  I want them dead.  That’s all I ask for and I don’t think that’s a lot.”

              He laughed along with me and people started to stare, but I didn’t care.  This might be the best night of my life.  Just might be.  Sometimes you just have a feeling about things.

              After we settled down a little bit, he looked at me seriously.  “I have a proposition.”

              I lifted one eyebrow.  “A proposition?  Do tell.”

              “Let’s go miniature golfing instead of a to a movie,” he said.

              “Miniature golfing?  I haven’t been miniature golfing since I was, like, ten.”

              “All the more reason to go then.  Also, I’ve been practicing and I bet I can beat you.”

              “Oh.  Challenge accepted.  Prepare to be humiliated.”

              “I think it’s you who will be humiliated, my dear.  I’m preparing to go out on the miniature golf masters world tour in the fall,” he said, and then cocked an eyebrow at me.

              I giggled.  It was fun to be with someone that just made me laugh.  We finished dinner and drove over to the miniature golf course.  The sight of the purple windmill brought back memories.  My dad had taken me there for my tenth birthday.  It was a daddy and daughter date of sorts, and I was thrilled for time alone with him.  I have two sisters, one older and one younger, and I rarely got any daddy time alone.  My dad had passed away three years earlier and I missed him so much.  Tears pricked the backs of my eyes and I smiled to force them away.

              “After you,” Matt said, holding my door open for me.  I smiled at him.  I hoped this turned into something special.

              I waited while he paid for the round of golf.  I felt guilty letting him pay for everything, but he had insisted.  I told him I would make dinner for him one night next week as payback. 

              He handed me an orange club and kept the green one for himself, and then we headed for the first hole, a ferris wheel.  I putted my ball, trying to get it under the ferris wheel and into the hole on the other side. 

              “Awe, look at that.  Your ball got bounced back, tsk, tsk,” he said sweetly.

              “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?” I asked as he took his turn.

              “That’s how it’s going to be,” he said and got the golf ball under the ferris wheel.  “Tada!” he said triumphantly.

              “Don’t tada me, Mr. Bragger.  It didn’t go in the hole,” I said and took another turn.  This one made it under the ferris wheel and I stuck my tongue at him.

              “So tell me, Tara,” he said as we walked to the other side of the ferris wheel to putt our balls into the hole. “How long have you been a Christian?”

              “Fourteen years.  I went to a Christian summer camp when I was in high school.  It was just a really great experience.  It was like I was searching for something but didn’t know it.  And then I found it.”  I didn’t say it, but I thought maybe I had found what I was searching for once again.

              “That’s awesome,” he said and took another shot. 

              “And you?” I asked.

              “I was seven when I got saved.  My family has always gone to church, so it was just a natural progression.  I love my church and I love my God even more.”

              I smiled at him.  “That is a great salvation story.  Sometimes people want the dramatic, but God can show up in the everyday, as well.”  I took another putt at the hole and sank the ball.  “Now, we can say tada!”

              “Oh sure, now we can say it,” he said, and then followed my lead and sank his own ball into the hole.

              “Showoff.”

              “Expertise,” he corrected.  “So tell me, where do you see yourself in say, five years?  With God and your spiritual walk, I mean,” he asked as we moved on to the next hole, a hill that you had to putt the ball up to get in the hole.

              “Five years?  Hmmm…to be honest, no one has ever asked me that.  My pastor talks a lot about our walk and moving forward with God.  But to be honest, I haven’t thought all that much about it.”  I felt myself turn a tiny bit pink.  That made me sound like I had no spiritual fervor.  That wasn’t completely true though.  I loved church and I loved God.

              “Sometimes it’s hard to know where we’ll be in five years if we aren’t sure of our spiritual calling,” he said and putted the ball.  It wasn’t a strong enough putt and it rolled back down the hill. 

              I smiled at him.  “Good try,” I said and took my turn.  “What about you?  Where will you be in five years?” I hit my ball too hard and it rolled back down the far side of the hill.  Now I would have to putt it around to the front of the hill to try again.

              “I’m not exactly sure.  But I do know I feel something inside.  I can’t be sure exactly, but I feel like I have a call on my life,” he said, sending his ball to the other side of the hill like I had.

              We walked around the other side of the hill and I took my turn, sending it back to the front of the hill opening. 

              “Calling?  Like what?  A pastor?” I asked.  I had never considered that he might have a calling like that.  Would I make a good pastor’s wife?  I didn’t feel like a pastor’s wife.  Did that mean we weren’t meant to be together? 

Wow.  We hadn’t even finished a round of miniature golf and I was already trying to figure out if we were getting married or not.

              “I don’t know about being a pastor exactly.  There are lots of callings.  Even the ministry of helps is a calling,” he said and took his turn, expertly planting the ball at the top of the hill.             

              “Bravo,” I said and he bowed to me.  “Well then, maybe I do have a calling.  I do the announcements at church.”

              “Well there you go,” he said as I took my turn.  The ball went over the hill again and I sighed.  This miniature golf thing was harder than I remembered.

              “Well, maybe you’re called to come work at Cup of Grace with me?” I slyly said.  It would be fantastic if he were around all day, not just during the cleaning and fixing up faze.  Then he would see just how awesome I was and he wouldn’t be able to resist me.

              He kind of smirked and sank the ball.

              “What?” I said.

              “A coffee shop does not qualify as a calling from God,” he said. 

              I thought he was joking, but when I looked at him, he looked pretty serious.  “But being called to own a business can kind of be a calling, can’t it?  My pastor refers to someone being called to callings in business as well as Christian callings.”

              “Well, I guess so,” he said, but he looked uncomfortable.

              I hit the ball and made it to the top of the hill.  I stopped and looked up at him.  “What are you trying to say?

              “Nothing,” he said and shrugged his shoulders. 

              “Tell me,” I said seriously. 

              “It’s just…” he said and trailed off.

              “Just what?”  Our date suddenly felt like it was going in the wrong direction and I didn’t know why.

              “It kind of seems like, well, like there’s so much suffering in the world.  So many people don’t have anything at all to eat.  And here we are in America.  We have so much wealth, that we think nothing of dropping four dollars for a cup of coffee.”

              I stared at him.

              “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I do it, too.  You know I do.  But it seems so, I don’t know.  Vain, I guess,” he said and looked away.

              I could not believe he had just said that.  I mean, he was helping us and everything and he knew how important this was to us.

              “I’m sorry,” he said when I didn’t say anything.  “Forgive me.  I’ve just been going through a frustrating spiritual period and everything seems kind of frivolous to me at the moment.  Being unemployed and not knowing what my calling is isn’t helping.”

              Part of me wanted to cry.  My dream wasn’t frivolous.  Was it?  We were going to provide a nice place where people could come and do Bible studies or just get away for a while.  We were focusing the business on God.  Wasn’t that a calling?

              I blew air out through my mouth.

              He stood there awkwardly.  “I’m sorry, Tara.  Maybe we can start this evening over?”

              “No, we’re fine,” I said and sank the ball.  I picked it up out of the hole and headed toward the next one.

              I heard Matt sigh behind me.  I wasn’t one to hold grudges, but I needed a minute.  Or three.  I was doing the right thing by opening this coffee shop.  Wasn’t I?  Suddenly a whole lot of insecurities and fear rushed in.  We had really jumped on this thing quickly.  Where would we go with it?  Did anyone really want to come to a coffee shop to do Bible studies? And what if I lost everything I had worked so hard for?  My 401k was all I really had.  I pushed the thoughts out of my mind.   We were already in too deep to sit and worry about these types of things now.

              I turned and smiled at Matt.  I was just going to enjoy this date.  I would have plenty of time to worry about other things later.

CHAPTER TWELVE

              After washing down the walls and allowing them to dry, we were ready to paint on Saturday. The pizza place had had brown walls, so covering up that paint and then painting them a nice homey yellow was going to take some time.  We bought the best base paint we could find, no expense spared.  Matt had convinced me that it was worth the price, even though my cheap heart wanted to go with the stuff that was half the price.  He swore we would need at least three coats if we went with the cheap stuff.  That brown wasn’t going away without a fight.

              “Okay crew, here we go,” he said, and we all claimed a wall and went to work.

              To tell you the truth, what he had said two nights before still stung.  Why wouldn’t it?  Even though I was scared about this whole business endeavor, when I got really quiet and prayed about it, I did have peace.  And wasn’t that how you could know the will of God?  That’s what my pastor said anyway, and I had used that method in good stead in the past.

              I decided to try and let it go.  It was clear he hadn’t tried to hurt my feelings.  And he was just frustrated with his own spiritual journey.  I could relate to that.  I’d been through similar things myself.  I rolled the paint onto the nice clean wall, and went ‘ooh’ inside my head.  Even though the final color wouldn’t be white, it looked so much better when we covered up the brown with it.  I glanced over my shoulder at what the others had accomplished.  Okay, it had only been two and half minutes so far, but I liked the nice light feel the little patches of white were bringing to the room.

              We worked for a half hour with me looking over my shoulder at the others every few minutes.  My competitive side came out, and I needed to paint more of my wall than anyone else had painted of their own.  Call me neurotic.

              After a while, Matt came over and checked out my work.  “You know, if you go a little slower, you can make sure you’re getting even coverage.  That way you won’t have to go back over those thinner spots you’ve got going on right now.”

              “Are you criticizing my work?” I asked just a tad defensively. 

              “Um, no.  It all looks good,” he said and then he headed back to his wall.  I stuck my tongue out at his retreating back. Yeah, okay, so maybe I wasn’t letting things go quite yet.  But I would.  Eventually.  And my wall looked absolutely fantastic, regardless of what he thought. I had also covered more wall than anyone else had. It wasn’t my fault that everyone else was slow.

              I did slow down some though.  I didn’t want Matt to come back and say I told you so.  Because I was fairly certain he would do that.

              “Oh look, my wall is beautiful!” Jillian said.  I turned and looked.  She was right.  I moved to get a closer look.  It looked so nice and even.  No thin spots to be seen.

              “Wow.  Have you done this before, Jillian?” Matt asked as he stood on the other side of her.

              “Nope.  This is my first time at painting,” she said beaming.

              “Well, nice job.  It’s really nice and even.  Looks very professional.”

              As he turned to walk away, I stuck my tongue out at him again.  Some days I’m a grown up.  Some days, not.

              “I saw that,” he said without turning around. 

              Dang, did he have eyes in the back of his head?

              “Well what about mine?” Kathryn asked.

              Matt dutifully went over to her wall to have a look.

              “Yours looks really good, too,” he said.  “Are you two sure you’ve never painted before?”

              “Nope,” Kathryn said and went back to work.

              “Hey, what do you mean you two?” I asked.  “Don’t you mean you three?” I said from beside my wall.

              “Nope.  I mean those two,” he said with a smirk.

              I couldn’t help it.  I had to smile.  He was such a smart alec.  Much like yours truly.  I figured I’d better make up properly with him or I might wear him out with my pouting, and then he might look somewhere else for girlfriend material.  And it was not going to be one of my two friends, even if they were ace painters. 

              I wandered over there and had a look at his wall.  “Hmmm.  Not bad for a beginner,” I said.

              “You think so?” he said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.  “I think it’s pretty darn good.  For a beginner, of course.”

              I reached over and put my hand over one of his on the paint roller handle and lightly squeezed it.

              He looked at me and smiled.  “Am I forgiven?” he whispered.

              I nodded.  I couldn’t hold anything against him. 

              Kathryn looked over her shoulder and giggled. 

“Better get back to work,” he said.

              So I headed back to my wall and went over the thinner spots.  I was not going to be shown up by anyone.

              After a couple of hours, we went outside, sat on the steps, and opened up the ice chest we had brought with us.  We still needed to buy a new refrigerator.  I had packed sandwiches, sodas, and chips.  A meal had never tasted so good as when you were starving from hard work.

              “This is the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich I have ever eaten,” Matt said, taking another bite.

              “Why thank you, sir,” I said and took a bite of my own.

              “So, when do you think we will finish all of this up?” Jillian said.  “I can’t wait until we’re able to open.  The first day is going to be awesome!”

              “I’m thinking in a month or so,” I said, sipping my soda.

              “You guys need to set a date.  Do some advertising.  People need to know you guys are opening,” Matt said.

              “Yeah, I hadn’t thought much about that just yet,” I said.  “I think advertising has got to be really expensive.”

              “But without it, we won’t get much business,” Kathryn said, holding her hand up to block the sun from her eyes.  “Why didn’t I bring my sunglasses?”

              “Don’t you think we’ll get a lot of foot traffic from the other shops in the center?” I asked.  “I think advertising is going to really blow our budget.”

              “You didn’t budget in advertising?” Matt asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

              “Well, we did.  A little bit.  But we need to be strategic about it.  I figure we can do flyers and put them on people’s cars at the grocery stores, and maybe send something out to the local churches,” I said a little defensively.  “We’re bootstrapping it.”

              “We can tell everyone we know on Facebook,” Jillian said.

              “And we can maybe do coupons or something.  Buy one, get one free.  Maybe just on opening day,” I said, really starting to warm up to the idea of bootstrapping the advertising part.

              “I don’t know,” Kathryn said quietly.  “I think all those ideas are good, but will they bring in real business?  I mean the kind of business that will put us in the black and keep us in the black on our budget?”

              “I think it will,” I said with more confidence than I felt.  What if it didn’t work?  We only had one opening day and I wanted it to be a good one.

              “Well, why don’t we at least look into things like advertising on the local Christian radio station and newspaper flyers?” Kathryn said.  “It won’t hurt to just ask.  It might be less expensive than we think it will be.”

              “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I said after thinking it over for a couple of minutes.  I hated to admit that my ideas might not work.  “We don’t want to ruin a good business by not investing in something like advertising.  But we all need to discuss it and agree to it, whatever it is that we decide to do.  We can get some prices and see how much we’re looking at.”

              “Agreed,” Kathryn said.

              “Agreed,” Jillian said.

              We were like the three musketeers some days.

              “So Matt,” Kathryn said,  “have you given any thought to coming on full time here at Cup of Grace?”

              I loved it whenever someone said the business’s name.  It made me a little giddy.

              Matt was looking down at his feet, just enjoying the warm sunshine when she said it.  He looked up at her.  “Oh I don’t know.  I don’t want to strain your budget.  I don’t mind helping out though.  I kind of like working with my hands.”

              “Oh come on, Matt. You know we can’t do anything handy like you can.  We need someone like you to keep the building in shape and do other stuff, like thinking about advertising,” Jillian said, eyebrows raised.

              “I think it would be a really good idea,” I said quietly.  I didn’t want to put pressure on him, but I really felt like we needed him.  He had great ideas and knew how to do so many things that we couldn’t.  Like rescue us from a bug invasion.

              He smiled.  “I can’t work for someone I’m dating.”

              Oh.  So that was it.  “Well, you know, we could have you actually work for Kathryn.  She can boss you around.  She’s good at it.  And you guys can talk financials.  I don’t even need to know anything about it.  I feel bad taking advantage of you the way we have been.”

              “You’re not taking advantage of me.  I told you that I enjoyed it,” he answered.

              “Please?” I asked and gave him my winningest smile.

              He chuckled and looked at his feet again.

              “At least consider it?” I said.  “I think you have some good business ideas that we can totally steal from that awesome mind of yours.  And this place just wouldn’t be the same without you.”  So much for not putting pressure on him.             

              “Awe, Tara’s got it bad for Matty,” Jillian teased.

              I looked at her and rolled my eyes.

              “I tell you what. I’ll think about it,” he said.  “That’s all I can promise.”

              “Yay!” Jillian said.  “It will be so much fun!”

              “It will be fun,” I agreed and tried to win him over with another drop dead gorgeous smile.  I definitely had that going for me.

              “Okay, I’m going think about it,” he promised.  Then a minute later, he looked up at me and said.  “I thought about it.  I guess we can give it a try.  Just temporarily though.”

              “Yes!” I leaned over and hugged him and then gave him a kiss on the cheek.  Then I blushed.  We were pretty conservative in our relationship and he had not even kissed me on our date the other night.  Not to mention I had been mad at him when we parted.  Or at least highly annoyed. 

              He turned pink.  “But let’s just say that it’s a trial period of three months.  Then we’ll reevaluate at that time and if it isn’t working, no hurt feelings from anyone, okay?”

              “Okay, “ I agreed, and hoped that I hadn’t sworn a death warrant on our newly formed relationship.