Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Kathryn
" I s it too much?" I adjust a vase of Marie's sunflowers for the tenth time. "Maybe we should spread the refreshments out more, make it feel less like an event and more like?—"
"Like a community coming together?" Sara Miller sets down another tray of sample-sized pastries. "Relax, Kathryn. It's perfect."
The morning sun streams through Coffee Loft's windows, catching on the blank cards waiting to become wishes. We've arranged them in woven baskets Jake brought from Wilmington, along with colorful pens and push pins. The wall itself is ready, bordered with twinkle lights that Sophia insisted would add the perfect touch of magic.
Old Joe Thompson is first through the door, right at opening time. He pauses at the sight of the wall, squinting at the explanation cards.
"So anyone can write a wish?" he asks, accepting a coffee from Annie.
"Anyone." I hand him a blank card. "And anyone can help make them come true."
He studies the card for a long moment. "Even silly wishes?"
"Especially silly wishes."
He shuffles to a table, and I force myself not to hover as he begins to write.
More people drift in—the morning regulars, curious locals, a few tourists drawn by the festive atmosphere. Sara's pastry samples disappear almost as fast as she can slice them. Marie arranges flowers in vintage coffee cups, creating miniature centerpieces that immediately draw attention.
"Look, Mom!" A little girl tugs her mother's sleeve, pointing to a wish someone's already posted. "Can we write one too?"
Soon the wall starts filling with color. Each card tells a story:
Looking for chess partners - Tuesday afternoons preferred
Need help organizing Grandma's photo albums
Would love to learn to make those amazing Miller's Bakery scones
Seeking fellow bird watchers for morning hikes
"They're really doing it." Nolan's voice startles me. He's appeared at my elbow, watching the growing collection of wishes. "They're actually sharing."
"Did you doubt them?"
"I doubted it would feel this..." He gestures to where Old Joe is carefully pinning up his card.
"Natural?"
"Real."
A young woman approaches the wall, reading each wish carefully. She stops at Old Joe's card, a smile spreading across her face.
"Knitting lessons?" she says, loud enough for him to hear. "I teach beginner classes at the craft store."
Old Joe looks up, surprise and hope warring on his weathered face. "Yeah?"
"We meet Thursday afternoons." She grabs a card, writing quickly. "Here's my contact info. First lesson's free."
I watch them talk, this unlikely pair brought together by a simple wish. When I turn back to Nolan, his expression has softened.
"One wish down," I say softly.
"How many to go?"
"As many as it takes."
The morning unfolds like a flower opening to the sun. A high school student offers to help with photo albums. Sara agrees to teach a small baking class. The chess enthusiast finds not one but three potential partners.
"This is remarkable." Marie joins me at the counter, her flower supply depleted. "It's like..."
"Like magic?" Sophia suggests, snapping photos of a family writing wishes together.
"Like home," Marie corrects. "It feels like home again."
I catch Nolan watching me from across the room. When our eyes meet, he doesn't look away this time. Instead, he moves closer, reaching past me for a blank card.
"What are you doing?"
"Making a wish." His handwriting is surprisingly elegant as he writes. "Isn't that the point?"
Before I can read it, he pins it high on the wall, well above my reach.
"That's not fair."
His smile is dangerous. "Guess you'll have to find someone tall to help you."
A burst of laughter draws our attention. Jake is demonstrating his famous latte art for a group of teenagers, creating tiny wishbones in their drinks.
"He's good with people," Nolan observes, and I hear the question he's not asking.
"He is. Sophia's lucky."
Something relaxes in his shoulders. "Ah."
"Speaking of lucky..." I nod toward the door where Cam stands, watching the proceedings with an unreadable expression.
"Want backup?"
"No." I straighten my sweater. "This is my project. My responsibility."
But before I can approach Cam, something magical happens. A young mother walks up to him, her sleeping baby strapped to her chest.
"Are you the owner?" She beams when he nods. "This is wonderful. Exactly what Elk Ridge needed. A place where people can really connect."
Cam's expression shifts, softening as more people notice him. They approach with compliments, questions, gratitude. I watch him straighten, warming to their praise.
"Well played," Nolan murmurs.
"I didn't plan this."
"Sometimes the best wishes are the ones we don't know to make."
I think of his card, still mysterious and just out of reach. "Speaking of wishes..."
"Nice try." He backs away, grinning. "Some things are worth waiting for."
The rest of the morning passes in a blur of wishes and connections. By lunch, the wall is a rainbow of hopes and offers and possibilities. Annie keeps a notebook of connections made, wishes granted, stories starting to unfold.
"Twenty-three," she announces proudly. "Twenty-three wishes already matched with helpers."
I stand back, taking in the scene. The coffee shop hums with conversation and laughter. Every table is full. The air smells like coffee and pastries and possibility.
"Feeling proud?" Jake appears beside me.
"Feeling grateful." I watch Marie teach a teenager about flower arrangements, Sara share baking tips with a young couple, Old Joe discuss knitting patterns with his new teacher. "This is what coffee shops should be."
"It's what they can be," he corrects. "When the right person believes in them."
Across the room, Nolan pins another wish to the wall. This one I can reach, but something tells me to wait. Some wishes reveal themselves in their own time.
For now, it's enough to watch my coffee shop—because that's how it feels now, like mine in all the ways that matter—become exactly what I hoped it could be.
"Well, well." Cam slides behind the counter like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. "When I said we needed customer engagement, I didn't expect quite this level of enthusiasm."
After his earlier appearance during the celebration, I'd hoped he'd stay in his office. But here he is, freshly pressed suit somehow spotless despite the crowded shop.
"The community is really embracing it," I say, stepping back as he moves closer. "We've already matched over twenty wishes."
"Impressive." He leans against the counter, invading my space. "I must say, you have a knack for exceeding expectations."
Something in his tone makes me want to take another step back, but I'm already against the espresso machine. "The credit goes to the town. They just needed the opportunity to connect."
"So modest." His smile reminds me of a car salesman's. "You know, I've been thinking about our future here in Elk Ridge."
"Our future?"
"The Coffee Loft's future, of course." But his eyes say different. "With the right leadership, the right, partnership, we could really make something special here."
Across the room, I catch sight of Nolan watching us, his expression darkening. I try to catch his eye, but he's focused on how close Cam is standing.
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," I say, trying to edge sideways, "but I should really check on the?—"
"No need to be shy." Cam's hand lands on the counter beside me, effectively trapping me in place. "I've been watching you, Kathryn. Your drive, your vision. We could do great things together."
"I think you're misunderstanding?—"
"Am I?" His voice drops lower. "I see how hard you work, how much you care about this place. Imagine what we could accomplish if we aligned our interests."
The bell above the door chimes, and I glance over to see Nolan leaving, his shoulders rigid. My heart sinks.
"Excuse me." I duck under Cam's arm. "Annie needs help with?—"
"Think about it." He catches my wrist, his grip just shy of too tight. "We could make quite a team. Professionally speaking, of course. Though if things developed beyond that..."
I pull free. "I'm not interested in any kind of partnership, Cam. Professional or otherwise."
His smile hardens. "No? Perhaps you prefer a more rustic type?"
"I prefer focusing on my job." I grab a rag and start wiping down the already-clean counter. "Which right now means making sure these community initiatives succeed."
"Ah yes, community." He straightens his tie. "Just remember who signs the paychecks around here. Community sentiment doesn't pay the bills."
He strolls toward his office, leaving me feeling slightly nauseated. Through the window, I catch a glimpse of Nolan's truck pulling away, and my stomach twists further.
"You okay?" Jake appears beside me, his usual smile replaced with concern. "That looked intense."
"I'm fine." But my hands are shaking slightly as I fold the rag. "I need to explain to Nolan..."
"What you need," Jake says firmly, "is backup. Next time Cam tries that, you're not facing him alone."
"It's not that simple. He's still the owner, and now Nolan probably thinks..."
"Then tell him the truth."
My hands clench around the rag I'm holding. I want to tell Cam exactly what I think of his "partnership" offers, want to knock that smug smile right off his face. But we're so close to turning this place around, to proving that community connection is what makes Coffee Loft special. One wrong move with Cam could derail everything we've built here.
"I hate politics," I mutter.
"Ah." Jake's expression clears. "The famous Kathryn Taylor temper, held in check by professional responsibility."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who's seen you demolish corporate bros in meetings." He grins. "Remember that guy who tried to eliminate local supplier partnerships?"
The memory makes me smile despite everything. "He deserved that spreadsheet to the ego."
"My point is, you've got this. Handle Cam however you need to. But Nolan?" Jake gives me a gentle push toward the door. "He deserves the truth. No corporate politics, no careful diplomacy. Just truth."
He's right. But as I gather my things to follow Nolan, I wonder if I'm ready to admit the truth to myself—that somewhere between community initiatives and wish walls, this mountain town and its most stubborn resident have become more than just another project to save.
He's right. But as I gather my things to follow Nolan, I can't help wondering if I've already lost whatever was growing between us.
Some misunderstandings are harder to fix than others.
Even with a wall full of wishes behind you.