Page 23 of All You Need Is Macchiato

"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.

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