Page 7 of All You Need Is Macchiato

"No?" Her chair creaks softly. "So it has nothing to do with our newest guest? The one you were so charming with on her first night?"

The wrench slips, and I barely hold back a curse. A young family passes by, their kids racing toward the activity center where Jameson is setting up the morning's crafts. Normal lodge life going on while my world feels slightly tilted.

"You mean corporate's latest fix-it expert?" I move to the next loose bolt. "Here to streamline and optimize and whatever other buzzwords they're using these days?"

"Kathryn seems lovely."

"They always do." The metal groans under my grip. "Right up until the spreadsheets come out and suddenly words like 'community' and 'connection' turn into 'profit margins' and 'efficiency metrics.'"

"Bitter doesn't suit you, dear. You're starting to sound like Old Joe when the grocery store stopped carrying his favorite pickles."

"At least Joe got his pickles back. Our coffee shop? That's gone for good."

Aunt Evie's quiet for a moment, just the sound of her rocker and early morning birdsong. Through the window, I catch a glimpse of Kathryn crossing the great room in another one of her tailored blazers. My hands tighten on the wrench.

"You know," Aunt Evie says finally, "your mother always said judgment was like morning fog."

"Let me guess? It burns off if you give it time?"

"Only if you're willing to wait for the sun." She pours coffee from her thermos into two mugs, holding one out to me. "Remember how you used to experiment with coffee drink recipes? Spend hours getting the combinations just right?"

"That was different. That was about creating something special."

"And who's to say that's not what Kathryn wants too?"

I take the coffee, noticing again that it's not from Coffee Loft. None of us get coffee there anymore. Haven't since CamPrescott decided local suppliers weren't cost-effective enough. Since community events didn't fit his vision of quick turnover and higher profits.

"This isn't about judgment," I say, leaning against the now-stable railing. "It's about experience. Coffee Loft sends these people in with their big ideas and bigger promises, but they don't understand Elk Ridge. Don't want to understand it. They see a struggling mountain town location and think they can fix it by making it just like their city shops."

"Like you didn't want to understand that young man from the ski resort? The one you said would turn our winter activities into a 'tourist trap'? The same one who's now our best seasonal partner?"

"That was different."

"Was it?" She sips her coffee, eyes twinkling. "You know what else your mother used to say about snap judgments?—"

"Please, no more mom quotes this early in the morning."

"Fine. Then hear it from me." She sets her mug down. "People can surprise you. If you let them."

"Even corporate lackeys?"

"Especially people we've already decided not to like." She picks up her coffee again. "Did you know Kathryn asked about your hazelnut macchiato?"

Something twists in my chest. Mom's favorite. The one we spent weeks perfecting with Mr. Peterson. "Probably wondering why it's taking up menu space."

"Actually, she's been fighting to keep it. Along with the other original specialties. Seems she believes Coffee Loft locations should reflect their communities."

"Right." I grab the wrench again, needing something to do with my hands. "Next you'll tell me she wants to bring back open mic nights and local art shows."

Aunt Evie's silence makes me look up.

"No," I say flatly.

"She mentioned something about community boards and local partnerships..."

"Because that worked so well last time?"

"Not everyone is Cam Prescott, dear." She stands, collecting our mugs. "Did you know she ran the Wilmington location? Apparently, they have something called a Wishing Wall. Brings the whole community together."

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