Justin
“Welcome to Piping Hot,” the middle-aged woman behind the counter called out as the bells tinkled to announce my arrival.
The coffee shop was nearly empty, but for a weekday mid-afternoon in a small town like Briarton, that wasn’t unusual.
Earlier that morning, the shop would have been filled with locals grabbing coffee and breakfast before heading to work—many in the neighboring city—and several of the retired folks gathered around sipping their drinks well into mid-morning.
With my plans for the place, I envisioned a steady stream of business and a full-house throughout the day. Who wouldn’t want to spend their time in a comfy cozy coffee shop sipping a delicious brew, munching on delightful baked goods, and meeting with folks over a board game, a book, or a hobby?
I gave a quick wave to the friendly woman behind the counter. I wondered briefly if she’d want to stay on when I took over. With the money and unwavering support from my grandpa, a dream, and a whole lot of gumption guiding my way, I headed toward the man at the far corner table.
My meeting with Joe, the building owner—Piping Hot was housed in a perfect corner location of a larger building—technically wasn’t for another five minutes, but early was on time in my book and I was anxious to make a good first impression.
The man appeared to be nearing fifty with salt-n-pepper hair and a smooth, angular jawline I guessed would be showing scruff by dinnertime.
It was hard to judge his height, but I estimated he was possibly just a bit taller than my five foot nine inches.
He was broader in the chest and shoulders than me, but we both appeared to be of average build.
I caught a quick glimpse of intense green eyes as he glanced up at my approach.
The man was gorgeous, but I pushed away the fleeting attraction—I was here to impress him and buy Piping Hot, not drool over a silver fox.
“Hi,” I said, hoping I sounded both friendly and professional, “I’m Justin Wade. Thank you for taking time to meet with me. I look forward to sharing my plans for purchasing Piping Hot.”
The man’s eyebrow arched slightly, but he took my outstretched hand.
His lack of words set me on edge, but I’d known from the few emails we’d exchanged, and what my grandpa cryptically told me about Joe, he was a bit eccentric.
Determined to never again be steamrolled and taken advantage of in a business deal, I took his silence as a challenge and pulled out a chair. “As I explained in our emails, I have a solid plan to take Piping Hot from what it is now to something grand.”
“Justin Wade you say? How did you come to be in Briarton, Mr. Wade?” The man cocked his head and studied me with a bemused look.
Only slightly thrown off my game—did he not remember we’d corresponded more than once and my grandfather was a lifelong resident of the little town?
—I switched gears momentarily. “My grandfather, Harley Wade, has lived here his entire life.” My nerves calmed slightly when recognition crossed Joe’s face.
“My father jetted the moment he turned eighteen, but I’d visit Grandpa every summer while the rest of my family traveled and schmoozed.
I’ve recently opted to leave the big city life—it wasn’t for me—and live here with Harley.
” Attempting to move the conversation back to the reason I was there, I forged on.
“With my business management degree and exemplary baking skills, not to mention my interest in both coffee and tea, I know I can take Piping Hot to the next level.”
I wasn’t about to mention my last huge business idea had been an epic failure. Honestly, the idea was great, the person I trusted to help me make it happen had turned out to be an absolute jerk. Sean, my ex, had greedily accepted my entire savings to get our start-up off the ground.
And then he’d ghosted me.
My boyfriend of nearly two years.
My lifelong savings.
My big idea.
All gone in the blink of an eye.
Sean, when I finally cornered him, after waiting at his apartment for three hours, swore it was just how business worked with start-ups.
Said it was a risk and we’d failed. I knew better, but there was nothing I could do.
We’d had no contracts or official business accounts at the time.
I’d readily handed over the money thinking he’d use it for all the start-up costs—he’d convinced me I was the big idea man and he was the details guy—and then he’d bounced.
After berating myself severely and licking my wounds for a month—and quickly realizing, no matter how hard I tried to be a big city guy, the city just wasn’t for me—I’d called Harley and poured out my whole pathetic story.
He’d offered me the guest house on his property and, at twenty-eight years of age, I’d moved to Briarton a week later.
With no plans for exactly what I’d do for employment once I got to town, I’d been floored when Grandpa, a retired pediatrician, sat me down and explained he’d put aside a large chunk of money for whichever grandchild ever decided to take the small-town route.
He’d handed over a large sum of money, told me to spend it wisely, and handed me a flyer advertising the sale of Piping Hot.
Within seconds, my dream of owning a business and putting my baking skills to good use had been a potential reality.
I just had to convince the guy across the table from me I was the perfect person to buy the coffee shop in his building.
He cleared his throat and pursed his lips. “And what, in your opinion, needs to be done to take the place to the next level?”
Fighting the urge to rub my hands together and really dive in, I smiled.
“Well, the best thing the place has going for it is the atmosphere. Already smells great, gives off a very comfortable, cozy, welcoming vibe, and has an amazing aesthetic with the exposed brick and mixture of wooden beams and black iron.”
He glanced around and nodded. “It really is a great little shop.”
I pounced. “But it could be so much better.”
The guy raised a brow. “Go on.”
Inwardly fist pumping because I had him on the hook, I opened my folder. I didn’t need the information inside, but I knew it looked very polished and professional to have paperwork regarding plans for a business.
“I’m not only a business management major, I’m also a baker.
I’ll increase the variety and quality of the baked goods by ten-fold and have customers watering at the mouth for their favorites.
” I pulled out a list of the improvements I planned to make and closed the folder.
“I’ll also increase the quality of coffees and teas we serve.
After a quick perusal of the website—which I’ll also overhaul—I noticed our coffee beans are mediocre and our tea is fairly blah.
I want to level up on both the type and variety of coffee and tea we offer.
” I purposely launched into speaking in a way that already claimed the shop as mine.
“Sounds like you plan to change a lot,” Joe mused.
Picking up on the fact he may not like all the talk of change, I shook my head. “Not so much change, just increase our appeal. More and better baked goods, breakfast sandwiches, coffees, and teas. Plus, a bit down the road, simple soups and sandwiches to bring the morning crowd back for lunch.”
He once again looked intrigued.
“And, the part I’m maybe the most excited about, I want to use the space to offer folks a place to set up games, have book clubs, do scrapbooking, yarn crafts, and such.”
“So, you feel the current state of Piping Hot is far from where it could be?” he asked.
“I do, I really do. It’s a great little place, don’t get me wrong. But it could be so much more.” I kept the tremor out of my voice and didn’t let myself think about what happened if he didn’t let me buy this coffee shop.
“And you’re the person to do it? Take it to the next level?” Those brilliant green eyes locked on mine in challenge and I once again had to push aside the thought of how damn gorgeous he was.
“I am.” My confidence wasn’t bravado. I’d been screwed over by Sean, but that was because I’d been stupid enough to go into business with a lover. I was sure of my plans and my ability to grow Piping Hot into something Briarton never knew it was missing.
“And why would you be a better person for the job than any of the other prospective buyers?”
Easy.
“I’m young, I’m passionate, and I have a solid plan. In addition, I’m a talented baker and I have a fairly wide base knowledge of coffees and teas. Plus, I’m a local.”
He frowned. “Local? You just moved here.”
I shrugged. “But I’ve been here most of my life during the summers and I have family here.
Can the other potential buyers say that?
Doubt it. They probably want to buy it and send someone else to manage it without ever even stepping foot in the place.
I’m interested in more than just an investment.
This place will be my baby and the pride and joy of the entire town. ”
The chimes over the door announced an arrival and I glanced toward the front of the shop.
Shaken slightly, my eyes widened a bit to see Grandpa with a tall, willowy woman.
She wore a flowy shirt which cascaded over her slim hips into a gauzy skirt, several mismatched pieces of jewelry, and a pair of Birkenstocks on her bare feet.
Her silver hair was styled in an artfully messy bob and a pair of cat-eye glasses perched on her nose.
“Ah, good, you’re already here,” Grandpa said.
The man across the table from me stood and shook hands with both new arrivals. “Harley, Jo Ellen, it’s nice to see you both.”
Grandpa turned to me and smiled broadly. “Justin, I wanted to introduce you before your meeting got started.” He gestured toward the woman. “This is my girlfriend, Jo.”
I caught myself before the confused frown could take over my face, stuck out my hand with a polite smile, and said hello. “Nice to meet you. I didn’t know Grandpa was dating.” I shot a look at Harley and he blushed. My grandpa actually blushed.
As I glanced around the little group of four, something wasn’t adding up but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“Well, um, maybe we could catch up a bit later? I’d like to continue our meeting.” I hated to rush them off, but I needed this meeting to go well. I could almost taste Piping Hot being mine.
“Of course, of course,” Harley said. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Stay, dear. I’ve never seen the sense in starched, boring meetings. Let’s just get some drinks and have ourselves a conversation.” Jo Ellen motioned toward the table.
The man I’d been speaking to quickly made room for the four of us to sit down and Grandpa went to the counter for drinks.
“Now,” Jo Ellen peered over her glasses at me, “I know of Morgan’s interest in buying Piping Hot. But tell me, Justin Wade, what exactly is your reason for wanting to purchase in my building?”
A quick look toward the silver fox I’d spent ten minutes blathering on to showed a smug smirk on his face.
Wait.
What in the hell was going on?
Jo Ellen was the building owner?
And she was dating my grandpa?
Suddenly a few things slipped into place.
Harley had mentioned Joe as the owner and I’d been emailing with the owner—had I missed the name being Jo rather than Joe? All this time I’d ridiculously assumed the building owner was a man.
Nope.
A woman.
A very eccentric, odd, and opinionated woman.
Who was dating my grandpa.
Then who the hell had I just spilled my business plan to?