Chapter 8 Special Delivery
Special Delivery
Holly
Sadly, my big plan to greet Jake this morning flopped.
I got up early and headed into the shop, where I made him a special floral arrangement featuring cheerful yellow daffodils, gorgeous orange ranunculus, golden tulips, an Orange Crush rose, and some vibrant green orchids.
I rounded it all out with salal and sword fern and a touch of goodwill and friendship.
I’d planned to surprise him with it. I’d even worked myself up to actually going into his coffee shop as soon as it opened, hoping to beat the crowd. Jake’s not here, though.
There’s no crowd yet either.
It’s just a sweet brunette in her early-twenties running the show right now.
Truvy.
Cute name for a cute woman. She looks right at home behind the gleaming sales counter, and the flowers and greenery in their short, cylindrical vase look fabulous there as well, if I do say so myself.
I love the interior of the coffee shop. From the gorgeous floor to the open cabinetry behind the sales counter, all that burnished wood gives the place a natural and homey feel. It’s comforting. Just like Jake.
Too bad he’s not here.
Apparently, he had some kind of wilderness first aid training today.
“Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll make you something,” Truvy says kindly. “What’s your poison? Just kidding.” She snickers at her own joke. “We’re into low-chemical inputs here.”
I order a ristretto, curious to taste the coffee on its own, and end up in a conversation with Truvy around permaculture and agroforestry.
She’s so knowledgeable about where the coffee she serves comes from, and it’s a genuine pleasure talking with someone who understands the importance of biodiversity preservation and sustainable farming practices.
I tell her so, and she just laughs and motions to a nearby bistro table.
“Jake taught me all about his coffees,” she shares, carrying mine to the table she indicated. I follow and take a seat. “He’s particular about where he sources the beans from, and since I started school, I’ve taken more of an interest in learning that side of things.”
It’s not surprising that Jake knows his stuff, or that he operates his business with a mind to conservation and sustainability. He’s detail-oriented, and everything about him seems good for the world. It makes sense that his work reflects that, too.
“What are you studying?” I ask Truvy to distract myself from thinking of Jake. I’m still bummed he’s not here, but I get that he has an actual life.
He can’t spend all his time helping me at my shop. Besides, thanks to his help, things have come together far quicker than anticipated. I’m practically ready to officially open now, well ahead of my mentally scheduled timeline.
“Agroecology,” Truvy replies, heading back to the sales counter and the glass-covered pastry display by the register.
The flowers I brought Jake catch my eye, and I can’t help thinking how good they look in this space.
“I’m particularly interested in research and conservation efforts,” Truvy continues, snagging some pastries and putting them on a white ceramic plate. “But I’d also like to rework food systems and get more CSAs into urban communities.”
“Both admirable goals.”
She smiles at the praise, and I take a sip of coffee.
“Mmm. Incredible.” I can’t get over how smooth it is.
How delicious.
“That’s the medium-dark in our Hello HighLow Blend.”
I raise an eyebrow, surprised that she didn’t give me a single origin shot considering everything we just talked about.
“It’s the most popular choice,” she says breezily, pushing the plate of pastries closer to me.
An almond croissant and a pain au chocolate, two of my favorites.
“I wasn’t sure how much of a purist you are, or if you prefer more fruity or bold profiles.
This one is balanced with a higher caffeine content from the Robusta, but the nice crema and smooth flavor of the Arabica. It makes excellent shots.”
I nod, smiling. That this young woman learned all that from Jake is astounding. More so, that he put that much thought into what the end result would taste like—well, it’s like him, isn’t it?
From what I know of him so far, he doesn’t do anything without purpose. I like that he has a thoughtful approach to life, and to his coffee. That he has the recipient or end user in mind from the beginning and pays attention to the slightest details while crafting.
I do the same thing with my plants and floral arrangements.
Suddenly, I can’t wait to go make more of them, but the pastries Truvy brought me are tempting.
“I can’t eat both of these,” I tell her honestly. “I had a hearty breakfast before leaving home.”
Granted, that was a few hours ago, but I really don’t need to eat two decadent pastries right now.
“Why don’t you split them with me?” I suggest. “Make yourself a coffee and hang with me until the morning rush starts.”
She beams at that and stands. “I’d love to.”
As Truvy heads off to get what she needs, I can’t help wondering what time the morning rush actually starts around here.
In Denver, the coffee shops near me were always slammed first thing in the morning, often with a line waiting for the doors to open.
It’s after eight here already, and I’ve not seen a single other customer yet.
“Oh, and please tell me what I owe for all this,” I call to Truvy over the whirring of a grinder.
“It’s on the house.”
Her reply fills me with warmth, but also gives me pause. Jake has been bringing me drinks and pastries all week. The least I can do is pay for my own in his coffeehouse. Somehow, I doubt he’d let me if he were here, but he’s not here.
No one is, except for me and Truvy—and she’s paid to be here.
“Are Saturdays slow-start mornings?” I ask as Truvy joins me again.
She’s brought glasses of water and made herself a latte that smells fantastic. Almost floral.
“What are you drinking? Is that… lavender?” I’ve never had a lavender latte. Teas, sure, but I can’t believe I’ve not tried it in my coffee.
Well, I can believe it.
I come from a family of espresso lovers. I never even put milk in my coffee until I went to college.
“Yup,” Truvy says proudly. “You want me to make you one?”
“I’m good. I’ll stick to water for now, but I definitely want to try one another time. Here,” I gesture to the baked goods. “Pick your favorite, or we can split them. There’s no way I can eat all that right now.”
And I hate for it to go to waste.
Whoever Jake contracts with for the pastries he sells is a true artist. The tastiest scones, fluffiest meringues, and lightest brioches.
Even these croissants are baked to perfection, light and flaky.
Heaven in every bite. That’s hard to do consistently, especially with high-altitude baking. I could definitely use some pointers.
“It’s been slow around here lately,” Truvy admits sheepishly. “Great for studying, but it makes for some long days.”
“Is that normal for the season?” I’d think more people would want hot drinks with as cold as it still is in the mornings.
Not to mention, this is seriously the best coffee I think I’ve ever had.
Truvy shakes her head, her dark ponytail swaying with the movement.
“I’m not sure why things have slowed. Usually, we’re slammed in the mornings, but the last few months have been quieter.”
“Maybe business will pick up now that the snow’s melting?” I suggest as she takes a bite of croissant.
Goddess, I hope so.
Jake’s coffeehouse is an absolute gem, and I’d hate to see it go under from a lack of clientele.
Not only that, I’d been banking on getting walk-ins from some of his clients. Guess I’ll have to do some actual advertising rather than word of mouth like I’d hoped.
“Online orders have been steady,” Truvy shares, reaching for her latte. “I’m not sure why the locals—”
As though our conversation summoned them, two women enter the coffeehouse, talking amongst themselves as they head to the counter, pulling off scarves and jackets.
Truvy excuses herself and greets them warmly, asking about their kids and settling into comfortable conversation as she takes their orders.
I’m honestly glad to see more people here.
As the women take a seat near the front plate-glass window, I can’t help but watch them. Due to the lack of other patrons, I also can’t help overhearing their conversation once the bustle from the coffee machines dies down.
The redhead is struggling with her in-laws, who seem to have strong ideas about how she’s raising her baby.
I don’t see anything wrong with not letting a toddler use screens or toys that light up and make sounds at the mere push of a button, but what do I know? I played in the dirt when I was a toddler.
I still do, now that I think of it.
The blonde offers encouragement and launches into a story about her own woes and worries. A kid who is learning to drive, a partner who isn’t present, the desire to change her appearance.
I know they’re bonding, but it breaks my heart that there’s such frustration in their voices. Such yearning for stability right along with deep disappointment for the unmet desires around being seen, and feeling valued and appreciated.
Mom life sure seems rough.
Thoughts of my own mother flit in while I eat my pastries, surreptitiously observing the two friends.
She was an incredible woman. Fierce, yet loving. She and my cousins were all I had after my dad died in that freak climbing accident when I was little. I never asked my mother what it was like to outlive her spouse, but I always got the sense that he was her entire world. Well, him and me.
Even after he passed, she never remarried. I don’t think she even dated anyone, although that could have had more to do with her role of leadership than anything else. She was the Eldress of our circle. A role my cousin, Gayle, holds now that my mother has passed beyond the Veil.
Though the pain of her passing has lessened with time, my mother’s absence in my life still aches. I miss her dearly right now, and can’t help wondering what she would think of where I ended up.
I think she’d be pleased.
Just like those two moms at the bistro table across the room, worrying over their children, my mother had my best interests at heart too. Always.
It’s why she didn’t force me to do The Proving when I came of age.
Why she encouraged me to follow my own inner guidance and forge my own path.
Why she silenced any would-be critics and wholeheartedly supported my choices around not stepping fully into the circle.
She always told me to trust my heart and use my Power for good in the world.
I can do that here.
I want to do that here.
Listening to snippets of these women’s lives, recognizing the resignation to what they see as monotonous responsibilities and the seemingly insurmountable dichotomies of being a woman and a partner, and a parent, I want to bring joy into their worlds. Color. Beauty.
Life.
I know just how to do it, too.
On that note, I clear my table and head to the counter, where Truvy is reading a book on soil-structure interaction.
“I wasn’t sure where to put my dishes,” I say quietly, setting them on the counter.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that. We bus the tables here.”
I nod, smiling. Maybe they bus the tables when business is slow, but I foresee it picking up in the near future.
Jake has helped me so much over the past few days, the least I can do is help him in return.
Besides, I officially love this place.
Just like I love him.
The thought comes effortlessly into my brain, and the truth of it resonates in my body. I don’t back away from it this time. Don’t try to rationalize it or explain it away. There’s no need.
Not anymore.
“Do you know when Jake will be back?” I ask, pulling out my wallet.
Truvy shakes her head. “No. And it’s on the house, remember?”
I nod, stowing my wallet in my apron, realizing for the first time that I’m still wearing it. Good thing, I guess, since I know what I’m going to do when I get back to my shop.
I say my goodbyes to Truvy, thanking her again for the coffee and the pastries before moving the arrangement I made for Jake closer to the edge of the counter. It looks good there. Right.
And there’s more where that came from.
I glance at the two mothers by the window on my way out.
I don’t miss that they’ve stopped talking and are watching me.
In the past, that would have bothered me, but not today.
Today, I give them a wave and a friendly smile, like all the locals I’ve seen around here do, and I step out into the morning sunshine, ready for my next adventure.
I don’t know if Jake will be back later today or if he’ll be boondocking all weekend for his training, but I do know that I have my very first client now.
And I’m excited to deliver.