Page 22 of All You Need Is Macchiato

I leave before I can do something stupid like tell her I already have.

Chapter Nine

Kathryn

"Is it too much?" I adjust a vase of Marie's sunflowers for the tenth time. "Maybe we should spread the refreshments out more, make it feel less like an event and more like?—"

"Like a community coming together?" Sara Miller sets down another tray of sample-sized pastries. "Relax, Kathryn. It's perfect."

The morning sun streams through Coffee Loft's windows, catching on the blank cards waiting to become wishes. We've arranged them in woven baskets Jake brought from Wilmington, along with colorful pens and push pins. The wall itself is ready, bordered with twinkle lights that Sophia insisted would add the perfect touch of magic.

Old Joe Thompson is first through the door, right at opening time. He pauses at the sight of the wall, squinting at the explanation cards.

"So anyone can write a wish?" he asks, accepting a coffee from Annie.

"Anyone." I hand him a blank card. "And anyone can help make them come true."

He studies the card for a long moment. "Even silly wishes?"

"Especially silly wishes."

He shuffles to a table, and I force myself not to hover as he begins to write.

More people drift in—the morning regulars, curious locals, a few tourists drawn by the festive atmosphere. Sara's pastry samples disappear almost as fast as she can slice them. Marie arranges flowers in vintage coffee cups, creating miniature centerpieces that immediately draw attention.

"Look, Mom!" A little girl tugs her mother's sleeve, pointing to a wish someone's already posted. "Can we write one too?"

Soon the wall starts filling with color. Each card tells a story:

Looking for chess partners - Tuesday afternoons preferred

Need help organizing Grandma's photo albums

Would love to learn to make those amazing Miller's Bakery scones

Seeking fellow bird watchers for morning hikes

"They're really doing it." Nolan's voice startles me. He's appeared at my elbow, watching the growing collection of wishes. "They're actually sharing."

"Did you doubt them?"

"I doubted it would feel this..." He gestures to where Old Joe is carefully pinning up his card.

"Natural?"

"Real."

A young woman approaches the wall, reading each wish carefully. She stops at Old Joe's card, a smile spreading across her face.

"Knitting lessons?" she says, loud enough for him to hear. "I teach beginner classes at the craft store."

Old Joe looks up, surprise and hope warring on his weathered face. "Yeah?"

"We meet Thursday afternoons." She grabs a card, writing quickly. "Here's my contact info. First lesson's free."

I watch them talk, this unlikely pair brought together by a simple wish. When I turn back to Nolan, his expression has softened.

"One wish down," I say softly.

---