Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
5
SWEET TALKER (JUNIPER)
I never knew the true meaning of hard work until I took over this store and added an evening cup of coffee to my routine.
It’s this special blend from a place called The Nest in a small Montana town named Heart’s Edge. The owner, Felicity Charter, had a cool puff piece in a women’s business mag last winter about her tiny coffee shop expanding into a proper roastery just to keep up with surging national demand.
And the crazy stuff that went down in her life on the way to fame and big bucks—holy hell. I thought I had it bad.
I thought pulling fourteen-hour shifts without much to show for my work and living in Nana’s shadow was as rough as it could get.
But I don’t have Felicity Charter problems.
I don’t have a mafia princess breathing down my neck or kids to raise or a ginormous husband who looks like a movie star to keep happy.
More importantly, knowing Felicity didn’t quit when the going got tough, how could I?
How could I ever walk away?
At least the shop’s closed for now. I’m into the quiet hours. I stretch my arms out and get ready for another long evening working my way out of this mess.
I can put on a little classic rock and let myself have a good time while I’m cleaning and preparing for tomorrow. If there’s time, I might even log on and review the store’s insurance policy renewal for next year, praying the premiums haven’t doubled.
If only my feet didn’t hurt so much.
I’m still up in my own head when the bell above the door tinkles and I look up to see Nana.
If there was ever a day when she didn’t make a striking entrance, I wasn’t around to see it.
She’s had her hair done again, a big fluffy white perm that reminds me of the eighties, but there’s nothing old or out of step about her as she opens her arms for a hug that reaches right to my soul.
“Oh, Junie. You look exhausted!” she tells me as I peck her on the cheek.
“Thanks… I think? Is that a compliment?”
“It’s a reminder that you need a week off. The Sugar Bowl wasn’t meant to chain anyone up, darling.”
“And do what? Hire someone else to take my place as manager? You’re hilarious, Nana.” That reminds me, so I check tomorrow’s schedule.
It’s Sarah and Kiki on the books.
And me, of course, since I’m always on duty.
“Well, there’s no point in working if you don’t have the traffic to warrant it, is there?” She jabs a thumb in the direction of the sign. “How long has our pride and joy been out?”
I suck in a breath and pretend to consider her advice.
I know what she’s going to say next and there’s not a chance.
“Oh, just a couple days,” I say vaguely. “I’m going to get it fixed next week for sure.”
“You’d hire out for that old thing?” She waves dismissively. “I could fix the sign for you tomorrow.”
Oh no.
Suddenly, I see Nana’s prone, broken body on the sidewalk after falling off a ladder. Not a good image and another huge reason to kindly make her butt out.
“Nana, you’re retired, remember? You can’t come barging in here to fix my store,” I say firmly. “I’ll have someone in next week to fix it. He’s very affordable.”
And if he isn’t, I think I can cover the repair with a crazy man ordering chocolate croissants and banana pudding cupcakes by the dozen.
“Besides, it’s summer. It stays light through close,” I tell her.
“Fine,” she says with a tone I recognize from when I was smaller. “But only because you run the show now, honey.”
Yeah, badly.
“Do you have a moment?” Nana already knows I do as she bustles through the store like she still owns it, looking fondly at the old mixers. I notice she’s holding a glass container. “I just had to drop by. I tried a new cheesecake recipe this evening and it could be a real hit, if you’d like a sample for research.”
I pin on a smile. That’s my Nana, charitable to a fault.
Ever since she handed the Sugar Bowl over to me, we’ve had the same little dance where I pretend I have a tenth of her success and she pretends she’s not always offering to pull me out of the fire without breaking her promise.
She always swore not to get in the way when the torch was passed to yours truly.
There’s no point telling her I’m supposed to be cleaning now, of course, so I pull the band from my hair and run my hands through it. After a full day keeping this place popping, my feet aren’t the only thing that’s killing me.
“How could I say no to cheesecake?” I call out.
She’s already on her way back to the front with two plates and a fork when the bell dings again.