Love And Coffee: A Cup Of Grace Romance Series Book 1 (8 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

              The day before our opening day, we were out at shopping centers putting flyers under people’s windshield wipers.  It was hot and I was sweaty.  A lovely way to spend the day.  I was thankful I had worn a tank top and shorts.  If I had had even short sleeves on, I might have fainted from the heat.  Summer had arrived.  The shopping center that we were putting fliers out at had a coffee shop of it’s own.

              “Let’s investigate,“ I told Matt. 

              “I don’t know,” Matt said, eying the competition.

              “I’ll behave myself, I promise.  Besides, I’m thirsty.  I need a nice big cold glass of iced coffee.  With some caramel syrup.  Or chocolate.  Or vanilla.  Whatever,” I said and headed toward the coffee shop.  Matt reluctantly followed behind me. 

The aroma of roasting coffee hit me as I opened the door.  It was heavenly.  I paused and inhaled deeply.  I couldn’t wait until that smell permeated our own shop. 

There were baked goods lining a glass case on the front counter and my mouth watered.  Matt stood next to me and put an arm around my shoulders, most likely to keep me from running off and embarrassing him by giving the employees there a flyer.  I mean, there was a buy a coffee and get a free cookie coupon and a buy one get one free coupon for any coffee.  Who wouldn’t want one?

              There were four customers in front of us and we patiently waited our turn.

              “I bet those cookies and scones don’t taste half as good as the ones from Cup of Grace will taste,” I whispered to Matt.

              “Now, let’s be nice,” he said, and we took a couple of steps forward in the line.

              “I would never have put those plum colored picture frames up back there.  It clashes with the fake bricks on the wall,” I said under my breath.

              “Stop it,” Matt warned lightly while still smiling.

              A few minutes later and it was our turn.  “I’d like a caramel iced coffee with extra cream.  Large, please,” I said and smiled at the girl behind the counter.  “Oh, and can I get a pumpkin scone?  And one of those sugar cookies? Oh and a piece of lemon loaf and the chocolate chip cookie, too.”

              “Hungry?” Matt said under his breath.

              “Starving,” I replied.  And I was.  My stomach growled audibly.

              “Sure thing,” the girl said and started putting the baked goods in little waxed paper bags.

              “What would you like, Matt?” I asked him.

              “I think I’ll take a regular iced coffee.  No sweetener or cream.  Large, thanks,” he said.

              “Oh, what about one of those vanilla bean scones?” I suggested.

              “No, no thanks.  I’m watching my figure,” he said and took his debit card out.

              “So am I,” I whispered and gave him a cheesy grin.  Okay, it was wrong of me to say it.  Way too suggestive, but darn it, he was cute.

              The girl behind the counter rang up our drinks and food and we took it to a table.

              “Don’t you think we should finish this up?” he asked, carefully placing the flyers face down on the table.

              “We will, after I’ve had a rest and some refreshments,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee.  “Mmm…nice bold flavor,” I said.

              “You approve?” Matt asked with raised eyebrows.

              “Um, no what I meant to say was, wow, this is way too strong.  I wouldn’t serve it up this strong. Now let’s see how the lemon loaf is.”  I took a bite and a groan escaped my lips before I could stop it.

              “Oh, that must be pretty darn tasty, yes?” Matt asked and took a sip of his iced coffee.

              “No, you misinterpreted that.  That was more of an ew, what’s in this thing?  How can anyone serve up something this dry—kind of groan.  So disappointing.”

              I took a bite of the three other goodies and was sadly disappointed that they were all wonderful.  I would have to bring some samples to the girls so we could make sure that anything we served was much tastier.  I drained my iced coffee before I knew it and wanted another one, but didn’t want to ask Matt to pay for it.  I had left my debit card in my purse, which was at the shop. 

              I looked over my shoulder longingly at the large commercial coffee pot behind the counter.

              “Would you like another?” Matt asked, still nursing his drink.  So perceptive, that one.

              “No, I’m good.  I’m a little stuffed from the goodies.  I did save parts of them though for Kathryn and Jillian to try,” I said.

              “Oh?  They were that good?” he teased.

              “Nope.  I just want them to see that we have no competition,” I said and stood up.  We might be in trouble, but I didn’t want to admit that to anyone.  I reminded myself that we were going to offer something that none of the coffee shops in the area provided.  A Christian environment where anyone could come and hang out and feel comfortable.

              We went back outside and started putting more flyers up.  They looked really nice with script writing to match the script wall scriptures at the shop.  That was my idea.  Just kinda fancy and fun.

              “So where did you advertise?” Matt suddenly asked.

              “Where did I advertise?  What do you mean?” I asked, forgetting our earlier conversation.  “We’re advertising now.”

              Matt looked at me sternly.  “You did advertise, didn’t you?  Like we discussed several weeks ago?”

              Oh.  I suddenly remembered that conversation.  Well, sort of.  At times I forgot and then at others I remembered, but when I remembered it was never a good time to ask anyone about advertising.

              I swallowed.  “I really think we will have plenty of customers with these fliers.  The coupons make our drinks and food a steal.  You need to have faith,” I said.

              I placed another flyer on the green Toyota in front of me.

              Matt sighed.  “I think it’s a mistake,” he said.

              “I know you do, honey.  But I really think we will be okay.  Please trust me,” I said.

              He gave me a forced smile.  “Okay Tara.  I’ll trust you.”

              “Thank you,” I said smiling.  I know I can be a pain.  No one has to tell me that.  But he was crazy about me, and that was what mattered.

              When we got to Cup of Grace, I announced, “I come bearing gifts!”

              Kathryn and Jillian ran up to me with giddy excitement on their faces and I handed them each two waxed paper bags. 

              “Um, what am I supposed to do with a half eaten cookie?” Kathryn asked, looking into one of the bags.

              “Research!” I said. 

              “And one third of a lemon loaf?” Jillian said.  Her face fell as she gazed at the smallish morsel she held in her hand.

              “Research,” I repeated.  “My goodness, don’t you two have any creativity?  Can’t you see what I’ve brought you?  This is our chance to spy on the competition!  To prove once and for all that we are the best coffee shop in town!”

              “Oh, gee, thanks,” Kathryn said and looked into the other bag she held. 

              “Um, a little more enthusiasm would be appreciated.  Jillian, taste that scone.”

              Jillian picked up the half eaten scone and took a small taste. “Oh.  Yum, that IS good!”

              “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” I said.  I had hoped my taste buds had been affected by the heat and when Jillian and Kathryn tasted the goodies I brought, they would tell me how awful they tasted.

              “Yeah, this chocolate chip cookie is really fresh,” Kathryn said, rolling the cookie around in her mouth.  “And so buttery.  I love this!  Where did you get it?”

              “None of your business.  We aren’t supporting the competition.”

              “Well, I think you just did,” Kathryn said dryly.  “How much did you spend for all this?”

              “For the sake of research!  Sometimes sacrifices have to be made,” I insisted.  “Jillian, can you beat these?”

              “Of course I can!  I mean, these are good, but I got this.  No one beats my berry scones.  No one,” she said confidently.

              “Good!  That’s what I wanted to hear!” I said.  I knew Jillian wouldn’t let me down.

              I sighed.  So here we were—opening day eve.  Tomorrow was the big day.

              We had spent the last seven weeks at the shop, painting, cleaning and decorating.  I found the cutest wall scriptures in cursive writing.  We stuck them on the walls in various places.  The walls were now a creamy yellow and the black lettering stood out on them beautifully.  We used Psalm 34:8, Oh taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who trusts in him and 11 Timothy 2:15, Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. 

They were in really large print, each on their own wall.  I felt like they both really summed up what we were trying to do at Cup of Grace. We scattered a bunch of other scriptures in smaller print all over the place.  That was my idea.  I wanted the place to be full of scriptures, reminding everyone of God’s grace in all things. 

              We had gotten some of the same lettering in white and put it on the big picture window.  The outside gingerbread trim was repainted white and when you looked at it from the outside, it just shouted home and comfort.

              “Well, what do you think?” Kathryn said, coming to stand beside me as I looked around.  Tomorrow was opening day.  I couldn’t get over it.  We had pulled it together faster than I could have imagined.  That was the Grace of God on that.

              I stood in the middle of the shop and looked around at all we had done.  The transformation from roach infested brown, depressing brown pizzeria, to bright and clean and full of life coffee shop was amazing. 

              “I think it’s beautiful,” I said as tears came to my eyes. 

              “Oh, don’t get me started,” Kathryn said and put her arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze.

              “It’s wonderful,” Jillian said and came to stand beside us.

              “You guys did a great job,” Matt said and plopped down on the cinnamon brown sofa.  It was full and thick and overstuffed, the kind of sofa that you want to sink down into at the end of a long day.  We had huge throw pillows tossed around, both on the carpeted floor and on the sofa and side chairs.  This place shouted comfort from the rooftops.  I was in love.  If you can be in love with a place, that is.

              I went and sat down beside Matt.  He put his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head.  “You did good, Sweet Pea,” he said.

“Well, do you still think this is a self-indulgent, worldly thing to spend money on?” I asked, looking into his eyes. I had asked the question light heartedly, but I really wanted to know his answer.

              “No.  I don’t,” he said looking me in the eye.  “Its much different than I had imagined.  This place really does feel like the Spirit of God is at work in it.  I mean that very seriously,” he said.

              “Really?” I asked and felt tears spring to my eyes.

              “Yes.  I still think there’s more to everyone’s call though, a ministry that should be solely dedicated to God.  But this isn’t bad.”

              I couldn’t tell if he was kidding and decided he probably wasn’t.  He never kidded about his faith. 

“I think we should go home and get some rest.  Tomorrow is going to be a crazy day and we need to get here really early.  Jillian has tons of baking to do,” I said. 

“Yes it will be a crazy busy day,” he agreed.

“I cannot wait to see all the happy friendly faces tomorrow.  Everyone will be oohing and aahing over the décor and the food and of course the sweet, delicious coffee drinks,” Jillian said.

              We got up, gathered our things and headed out, locking the door behind us.

              “Oh I can hardly wait for tomorrow.  It seems like we have been working on this forever and tomorrow will be such an awesome, sweet day,” I said. 

I had no idea what I was talking about.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

              The warm, homey smell of baking berry scones hung in the air as I set the coffee pots to brewing.  We had bought the regular coffee pots and lined the back counter with them.  It saved us over sixty percent of what we would have spent if we had bought the professional one.  And this way, we could keep a variety of flavored coffees brewing without having to change the pot on the commercial one whenever someone wanted a different flavor.  I thought that was rather smart of us.

              It was 5:45 am and I was itching to open the front doors.  I took a look around.  The place was neat and clean like we had left it last night.  It just had a freshness about it.  We had been baking since 3:00 a.m. and I was flagging a little bit.  The huge sofa was inviting, but I decided against it.  What would the customers think, seeing one of the owners lounging when she should be working?

              We each wore a cute yellow and white striped apron. Matt was being a sport about it and wearing his without complaint.  That was my man.  I smiled at him as he made a strong cup of coffee for himself.  He was obviously as tired as I was. 

              “Make me one?” I called from my spot near one of the tables.

              “You bet,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.  “Strong?”

              “Yeah, it better be,” I said, and went back to wiping the table down for the umpteenth time.  Nervous, anyone? 

              He made me a mocha with an extra shot of espresso.  He always knew exactly what I wanted.  Then he made one for Kathryn and Jillian.  Jillian had flour on her cheek and Kathryn’s hair had started to slip out of the bun she had put it up in.  I said a silent prayer, looked at the clock and headed toward the door.

              “Here we go folks.” 

              I unlocked the door and pushed it open, propping it with a doorstop.  I looked around, but no one was hanging out waiting for us to open.  Hmm.  The sun had already come up, but the shopping center was empty.  We were the only shop open in the center, so I guessed that made sense.  But I had been sort of hoping that those flyers we put out would have drawn in some of the early risers.  A nice long line winding around the block would have put a smile on my face.

              I turned around and went back inside.

              “Well?  Where are our customers?” Jillian called when she saw me come back inside alone.

              “Sleeping in, I guess,” I said shrugging my shoulders.

              “We should have advertised,” Kathryn said, frowning.

              “We did advertise!  We put hundreds of flyers under people’s windshield wipers,” Jillian protested.

              “It will be fine,” I assured her.

              I looked at Matt.  “It will be fine,” he repeated and gave me a smile.

              I nodded.  We would do fine.  People would wake up and we would have lots of customers.  I hoped.

              I went over and snitched a berry scone, still warm from the oven.  Vanilla powder sugar glaze was dripped across the top in a criss-cross pattern.  I sighed when I took a bite.  No one else could bake scones like Jillian could.

              “Do I get your seal of approval?”  Jillian asked, bringing a batch of chocolate muffins out to put into the display case.  I immediately wished I had waited for one of those.  Oh well, maybe I would try one later.

              “You know you do,” I said and glanced at the door.  Where were they already?

              I took another bite to keep from saying something discouraging.  Because that was how I felt.  Discouraged.  Sure, it was only 6:02, but still.  In my imagination, I had seen a long line forming outside the doors and when I unlocked them, the crowd would nearly trample me to get in and get some piping hot coffee and heart shaped cookies so they could fall madly in love with us. 

              That sofa was looking more inviting by the minute and I went and sat on the edge.  I had made a mistake and worn heels and my feet were already aching.  I didn’t know what they would feel like at 8:00 that night when we closed.

              Just then, a middle-aged woman in a deep purple business suit walked through the door.

              “Oh, hello!” I said, jumping up from the sofa.  I quickly stuffed my half eaten scone into my apron pocket.  “Welcome to Cup of Grace!  What can we help you with today?”

              The woman stared at me.  Had I said something wrong? 

“I think I’ll just look at the menu,” she finally said and went to stand at the counter and read the board.

              We had bought a long chalkboard and Kathryn had written the menu on it.  She had the best handwriting out of all of us, and it looked really nice. 

              The woman stood and stared at the board for a long time.  Maybe she needed some help. “The chocolate raspberry latte is very good,” I suggested.

              She glanced at me and gave me a tightlipped smile without saying anything.

              Hmm. “Or a mounds bar latte.  That has coconut and chocolate in it.  Really, really good!”

              No response on that one either.  Maybe she was a no frills kinda gal.

“Or, there’s also the straight Americano if you aren’t much on fancy drinks,” I said.

She turned and looked at me a moment, but then turned back to the board without saying anything.

Kathryn gave me the eye and nodded for me to just walk away.  Maybe the woman wasn’t a morning person.  I stepped back and took a huge swallow of my own drink.  I needed more caffeine.

Finally the woman gave Kathryn her order.  “May I have an iced tea?”

Eh, what?  Iced tea?  Who drinks iced tea at this hour of the morning?  Kathryn looked at me wide eyed.  That was probably the only thing we didn’t think to make.

              “The iced tea isn’t ready yet,” Kathryn said.  But if you have a few minutes, we’ll get right on that,” Kathryn said.

              I had no idea how we were going to get iced tea made in just a few minutes, but I ran to the back counter and started some hot water for the tea.

              “I don’t have a few minutes,” the woman said, pulling the straps of her purse back up over her shoulder.  “I can’t believe you don’t have any iced tea made.  I know the coffee shop down the street has iced tea,” she said and turned around to leave.

              “Wait! Can we interest you in an iced coffee?  Or a scone?” I said hurrying to stand beside her.

              “I don’t drink coffee and I’m a diabetic,” she said disdainfully and strode to the door and was gone.

              “Oh,” I said sadly.  “We just lost our first customer.  Literally our first customer,” I said.

              “Yeah, and we don’t have any more,” Jillian said with a frown.

              “Don’t worry, it will get better,” Matt said, taking a baking sheet of cookies from the oven and setting them to cool on the counter. 

              “Yes, it will be okay,” I said sadly.  What would we do if every customer walked out like that?  Without buying a thing?  Suddenly my mind was conjuring up pictures of all four of us sitting on a street corner selling pencils.  Wait, was that from some old black and white movie that I had seen with my dad when I was nine?  I shook my head to clear the image. 

              Then a man with a white hard hat tucked under his arm walked through the door.  I brightened.  “Hello sir,” I said brightly.  Surely we could sell him something.

              “Good morning,” he said with a big smile.  He seemed a friendly sort and he looked hungry.

              He walked up to the counter and looked Kathryn square in the eye.  “I’d like a black coffee, two mocha lattes and a vanilla espresso. All large.” He said.  Kathryn glanced at me standing behind him and grinned. 

              “Yes, sir,” she said and started on his drink order.

              “Oh and how about four of those berry scones?” he said.  “They look tasty.”

              I liked a man that knew what he wanted.  I hurried to help Kathryn and put the scones in wax bags.  Yes!  I thought.  Our real first real customer!

              Kathryn rang up his order on the register and the man used a debit card to pay. 

              “Oh, I was hoping for a dollar bill to put in a frame.  You know, like you see at lots of small businesses?  They put a dollar in a frame,” I said after he left.

              “It’s all right. We’ll get a dollar,” Kathryn said.  “Isn’t this exciting!  That was a big order!” she said and giggled with excitement.

              “It was!” I agreed and three more people walked through the door.  “Good morning!” I called.

              I stayed behind the counter and helped Kathryn. After a while we finally had a steady stream of customers coming through the door.  Matt and Jillian had to scramble to keep enough baked goods on the shelf.

              About 8:00, things really started to pick up.  I looked up after making my umpteenth iced mocha and saw a long line almost to the door.  I smiled at everyone in line, but then noticed not many were smiling back.  The thought that we might be a little slow in making drinks occurred to me.  I turned around and the coffee pots were nearly empty.  Oh my.

              I hurried over and started making fresh pots, dumping the coffee already in the pots into other pots to free some of them up.  Then I realized that I hadn’t paid any attention to which ones were flavored and which weren’t.  Oops.  Oh well, maybe no one would notice.  It seemed like most people were adding syrup flavors to everything anyway and that would probably cover up the flavors of the coffee.

              I got all the empty pots started brewing fresh coffee and when I turned back to the line, it had doubled, winding out the propped-open door.  Gulp.  Watch what you wish for.  I hurried to Kathryn’s side to help.  She gave me a sideways glance that had panic written all over it and I stepped up and took an order.

              “Hey, I need to get to work. Is there anyway you can get this line moving?” a A man five people back called.

              “Yes sir, we are going to get this line moving,” I said.  “Matt?” I called toward the kitchen area.

              Matt hurried over and took a drink order.

              “I’ve never had to wait this long for an iced coffee,” the woman that stepped up to give him her order said.

              “I’m sorry ma’am,” he said and hurried over to a pot of coffee and poured some into a cup, sloshing a large amount of it over the side.  “Wow,” I heard him whisper. 

              I swallowed.  I could hear a murmur rising from the line in front of us.  We needed to hurry or we were going to have a revolt on our hands.

              My next customer smiled at me.  “Can I have a skinny Snickers?”

              I looked at her.  “A what?”

              “A skinny Snickers bar.  You know, an iced coffee that tastes like snickers.”

              “Oh, yes,” I said.  I got some iced coffee, added some cream and some caramel syrup and tossed some chopped peanuts on the whipped cream.  There.  That should do it.

              “Did you just add real cream and sugar filled caramel syrup to this?” she asked, pointing at the drink I had set in front of her.

              “Um, yes, I did,” I said slowly, not realizing what the problem was.

              “Did you not hear the ‘skinny’ part?  I need to lose five pounds by next week,” she said.

              I looked at her.  She looked a little on the starved side to me.

              “And sugar is bad for your skin,” she said.

              “Okay, let me try again,” I said.  I remade the coffee with sugar free syrup and fat free half and half.  There.  That should work, I thought.  I made a mental note to listen more carefully next time. 

              I looked at her and held the drink up for her approval. 

              “I want whipped cream,” she said.

              “Oh, okay.”  But didn’t whipped cream have fat and sugar?  Not my business, I told myself and did as I was asked.

              “That looks great,” she said as I added the peanuts.  “Oh, and I want one of those scones,” she said.

              I cocked an eyebrow at her, but didn’t say anything.  That scone had more fat and sugar than the original coffee that I had made for her.

              I looked up an hour later and the line just seemed to get longer and longer.  Well, this is what we wanted, I thought.  I pushed the calm, cozy thoughts that I had held where we just walked calmly around the shop while our patrons sipped lazily on iced espressos and studied their Bibles.  Somehow my vision wasn’t quite as accurate as what we were seeing.

              Matt smiled encouragement to me and I took a deep breath.

              “Hey, when are we going to get waited on?” a teenaged girl called from the middle of the line.  I heard a couple of people echo her sentiments.