EPILOGUE
Twelve months later
T he air at Baker’s Coffee House was thick with anticipation and excitement for opening day. The scent of Baker’s freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet smell of Brittany’s sugary baked cookies as she skilfully placed a fresh batch in the glass display cabinet. Brittany waved at me from behind the counter. The navy-blue personalised oven gloves made her hands look like giant foam fingers, but she loved them, and they were the perfect opening day present from me to her.
Baker’s Coffee House had gone from a dream to reality in twelve months. My initial proposal required little consideration from Amelia. The idea of owning her grandma’s coffee shop filled her with a sense of belonging, and it gave her purpose—two things she had struggled to find in recent years. We discussed delaying the refurbishments of the shop until the renovations on the house were complete to avoid taking on too much. A small injection of cash from her father allowed the house renovation to be completed in three months.
After Amelia made the decision to stay in Magnolia, her father was the first to visit. He showed his love in the form of credit cards, but he wasn’t an unkind man. Frankly, he was far more tolerable than her mother. It took six months for Pamela Baker to visit again. When she did, there was no apology. The incident with Mason was swept under the rug, and she brought a giant olive tree as her housewarming gift. To her credit, she didn’t disregard me. I think it was partly down to the uniform I wore, but she spoke to me with a level of respect that took me by surprise.
We started work on the coffee shop immediately after the house was finished. Amelia had a clear vision for the space. She attempted to keep as many of the original fixtures and fittings as she could. The décor had a modern update but with a nod to Caroline’s vision. Amelia had already done it once before, so she wasn’t new to budgeting, permitting, regulations, furnishings, technology, or marketing. I attempted to help in any way I could, but my expertise fell short of what it took to start a business. However, I was a dab hand with building furniture, so I was put to good use.
We did a soft opening the week before with friends and family to iron out any minor problems. It was a great opportunity to train the new baristas and generate some buzz for the grand opening. Katherine was the perfect soft opening customer because she had every single resident with social media on her accounts, so did Brittany. The two of them combined would spread the word instantly. It paid off to be friends with the two biggest small town gossip queens.
The grand opening hadn’t arrived without hiccups. A small leak, a damaged delivery, a delay on equipment, it was all part of the process, but the day had finally arrived. The line snaked out of the door and two stores down, inconveniently blocking the entrance to the dry cleaners. I knew we would get hell from Mrs. Clayton, but it was nothing a free coffee and a cookie couldn’t fix .
On the way in I passed many familiar faces and stopped to smile and acknowledge each of them, thankful for the community support. It was my favourite thing about Magnolia, the residents always got behind their own.
“I see, cutting the line are we, Lieutenant?” Mr. Henderson bantered. He was fourth in line to be served.
“I would never,” I smirked. “I’m simply here to be of service.”
“Can you help out an old man, and save me that seat in the corner?” Mr. Henderson nodded towards the one remaining stool at the window bench.
“How about you take a seat and I’ll get your drink?” I offered.
“I always said you were my favourite member of law enforcement.” Mr. Henderson patted me on the arm and navigated his way to the corner, advising me of his very simple black coffee with one sugar order.
The sound of chatter and laughter filled me with joy. I watched the baristas’ as they hurried behind the counter, steam hissing from the espresso machines as they worked frantically to fulfil the orders. Brittany bagged up the baked goods whilst Katherine helped clear the tables. Amelia appeared from the back. She had a tray of her famous blueberry muffins cut into small sample size pieces, she made her way down the queue offering them out.
“What on earth are you doing in line?” She laughed.
“I’m Mr. Henderson.” I nodded.
“You really do go above and beyond.” She leant forward. “And that’s what I love about you,” she whispered .
I picked a small piece of muffin from the tray. “And I love that you make these things on a daily basis.” I laughed.
“Of course you do. Go behind the counter and make the coffee yourself. I feel weird about you standing here. Also, whilst you’re at it, Katherine could use some help with the tables.” Amelia winked.
“Yes, boss,” I teased.
The orders continued to pile up. The sounds of clinking cups and complimentary feedback about the baked goods filled the room. The pressure was relentless, every member of staff scuttled from one place to the next with Amelia as the orchestrator. Despite the chaos of a packed coffee shop, there was a sense of camaraderie and excitement that allowed everyone to work effortlessly together.
As the day wore on, the pressure began to ease. The initial frenzy gave way to a sense of accomplishment. I watched Amelia in awe. She navigated every possible scenario with grace. Being present to witness her vision come to life filled me with so much admiration. Over the past nine months I had witnessed the countless hours she poured into planning every detail, everything right down to the type of coffee beans. She crafted a menu like no other, one that was sure to delight customers far and wide.
I saw her eyes light up across the room every time she engaged with a new customer. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I didn’t want to be cured. Baker’s Coffee House was officially open again. It was warm, welcoming, and infused with Amelia’s personality. It was everything I hoped it would be for her.
The coffee shop was half full when I took my opportunity to congratulate her .
“I’m so proud of you.” I beamed. I held her waist from behind. “Do you have a minute?”
“For you? Always.”
I ushered Amelia through to the back area. There was a small break room for colleagues as well as a closet sized room Amelia turned into an office. It was big enough to comfortably house a desk and a chair but not much more. I closed the office door and pulled her in for a kiss.
“I’m sorry, but I have a girlfriend,” she jested.
“Oh really? But does this girlfriend bring you gifts?” I pulled two large gift bags from behind the desk.
“Are they for me?” she squealed.
“Yes, they’re an opening day new business-warming type of gift.”
“Business-warming?” Amelia laughed. “I’m not sure that’s a real thing, babe.”
“It isn’t, but I think it could really catch on.”
I placed the first bag in front of her. The navy apron she wore suited her. The design was simple. Baker’s Coffee House was written across the front with a logo of a hot cup of coffee.
“I wanted to do something special for you, and this felt the most appropriate,” I said.
Amelia opened the square picture frame. On the inside was a framed letter. It took me a long time to read through each individual letter, but as soon as I noticed the context, I knew it would be perfect.
“I love it,” Amelia expressed. She read the letter from top to bottom, stopping and repeating certain lines as she went. When she reached the last paragraph I saw a sparkle in her eyes.
“Oh my God,” she sobbed.
The letter read :
I would love to leave a legacy. It feels beyond the bounds of possibility now, but the coffee house means so much to me that I hope it continues some way, somehow, maybe after I’m gone. I hope for two things in this world, the first one I can’t have (you), the second is this.
“Caroline got her wish,” I said softly.
“This is the perfect gift. Thank you so much.” Amelia placed the frame gently on her desk. “There’s something else?”
I nodded. She removed another frame. This one had a piece of plasterboard mounted inside. The piece was rough, but I did the best I could in removing it from the wall. I had a little help mounting it inside the frame, but it turned out perfectly.
“What is this?” Amelia asked.
“When your gran owned this shop, the wall to the right of the counter was filled with people’s names, anyone who visited the shop would write something and sign their name. I think it started by accident because a child decided to vandalise the wall, but Caroline saw it as an opportunity to create something special within the community.”
“I didn’t see that?” Amelia said.
“The new owner covered it up with wallpaper, but before the builders tore the wall down, I asked if I could try and salvage a piece. I knew Caroline had signed it, but I couldn’t remember what she signed.”
The piece of plasterboard had seen better days, but in bold clear writing, larger than the rest, was Caroline’s inscribing. It said:
I love it here – C .
“It’s literally perfect.” Amelia placed the frames side by side. “Is it weird for me to say I feel like I always knew her?”
“Not at all. I think it’s wonderful that even after she’s gone you get to form a bond through your shared passion.”
“I think she would’ve been my favourite person,” Amelia said.
“I think so too.”
Amelia placed her hand on my stomach, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to plant a tender kiss on my lips.
“How did I get so lucky with you?”
“I could say the same thing.” I smiled.
Amelia Baker was ambitious, kind, loyal, beautiful, patient, generous, and compassionate. She should’ve been the poster girl for attractive character traits. When I was a teenager, I dreamt of my perfect partner. I was naive. I thought the first person who would walk into my life would’ve been made for me, constructed in some outer realm of the universe and put on earth only for me, a soulmate. I used to list all the qualities I wanted in a person, right down to the length of their fingernails, only to realise life wasn’t like that, and my “perfect” partner was a creation for the storybooks.
Twenty-nine years it took me to find her, a third of my life if I was lucky. Now, I got to spend multiple decades thanking the universe for putting her in front of me, thanking every crazy list I wrote as a teenager for manifesting exactly what I needed.
Life was like that.
I just had to wait patiently.