Page 36 of All You Need Is Macchiato

"I don't know how," I admit finally. "I don't know how to fight this."

"You didn't know how to make wishes come true either." Evie stands, smoothing her skirt. "But you figured that out."

"That was different."

"Was it?" She moves to the door but pauses. "You know, when Claire—Nolan's mother—got sick, everyone told her to be realistic. To accept what was coming. Know what she did instead?"

I shake my head.

"She planned a garden. Said she might not be here to see it bloom, but that wasn't the point." Evie's eyes are soft with memory. "The point was believing in something beautiful, even when it seemed impossible."

She leaves me with that, with the mountains and a wrinkled wish card covered in crayon dreams.

I pick up another sweater, but instead of folding it, I hold it close. It smells like coffee and mountain air and possibility.

Cam thinks Elk Ridge is just a stepping stone. But maybe some stones are meant to be foundations instead.

Maybe some wishes are worth fighting for, even when you don't know how to make them come true.

Maybe some places—and some people—are worth staying for.

I look at the half-packed suitcase, at my scattered plans, at the child's wish still clutched in my hand.

Claire believed in planting hope, even when everything seemed impossible.

Time to make an impossible wish of my own.

Chapter Fourteen

Nolan

"Sign here." I push the delivery form toward Sara Miller, barely glancing up from the festival layout plans spread across my desk. "And here."

"You know," Sara says, signing with a flourish, "you could at least pretend to be excited about my new maple scones."

"They look great."

"You wouldn't even know if I'd brought empty boxes. You haven't actually looked at them."

She's right. I've been buried in work since my conversation with Kathryn, trying to drown out her hurt expression with vendor contracts and event schedules.

"Sorry." I finally meet her eyes. "I’ve been distracted."

"Clearly." She settles into the chair across from me, making no move to leave. "Though probably not as distracted as Cam's been lately. All those meetings with fancy-suited people from out of town."

Something in her tone makes me look up sharply. "What meetings?"

"Oh, you haven't heard?" She leans forward. "Beth from the market saw him showing some corporate types around yesterday. Talking about 'modernization' and 'untappedpotential.' And Marie said she overheard him on the phone this morning, discussing sale prices."

The festival plans blur in front of me. "Sale prices?"

"Apparently he's selling to some big coffee chain." Sara's voice turns bitter. "Because clearly what this town needs is another generic coffee stop. Though I guess that means I'll need to find somewhere else to sell my scones."

But I'm barely listening. All I can think about is Kathryn. Kathryn, who believed in wishes. Kathryn, who fought for community. Kathryn, who looked at a struggling coffee shop and saw possibility.

Kathryn, who I pushed away because I was too afraid to admit she mattered.

"When?" My voice sounds strange even to me. "When is he selling?"

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