Page 13 of Stuck with Mr. Grump

Emilia’s mostly quiet, which makes me curious about her. I think she has a big personality of her own, but in the face of her siblings’ louder personalities, she just blends into the background. It’s pretty clear the three of them share a close bond, though. Anika must really like having a big sister; I remember how she used to follow Carson and me around all the time when she was little, demanding to be included.

The Camerons end their visit quickly. Carson still has to return to Greenville where his business is located, but he promises to hang out for longer during the weekend when he’s in town. I say goodbye to my childhood friend and his sisters, grateful for the visit but a little bit glad to be on my own again.

Sean definitely gets his antisocial personality from me.

A familiar hum of activity greets me as soon as I step into the Edenton branch of Harrington Holdings. I took my grandfather’s advice and accepted a position as executive manger here. Mostly because I haven’t not worked since I was in college. And with everything going on, a break from work is the last thing I need. I wouldn’t even know what to do with the free time. Except maybe overthink my existence.

The office, though more modest than our main headquarters, maintains an air of professionalism. Employees glance up from their workstations, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension. I waste no time in gathering the department heads for a meeting in the conference room. Once everyone is seated, I begin.

“I’ve reviewed our recent performance metrics, and there are several areas requiring immediate improvement.”

Handing out copies of the latest reports, I highlight concerns. “Our sales figures have declined by eight percent over the last quarter, and project completion times have increased by an average of two weeks. These trends are unacceptable. We need to streamline our operations and boost efficiency. I expect weekly progress updates from each department.”

The team members nod, diligently taking notes. I’m sure they’ve heard about my reputation and are fully aware of the standards I uphold.

Midway through the meeting, the head of acquisitions, who introduced herself earlier as Lisa Briggs, speaks up.

“Mr. Harrington, I feel the need to inform you about a potential investment opportunity we’ve been evaluating. There’s a parcel of land on Maple Street that we’re been hoping to acquire. It’s occupied by a couple of small businesses and could be advantageous for our expansion plans.”

I lean back, considering the information. “Have we approached the business owners about this?”

“We’ve initiated discussions with some, but we anticipate the owner of the coffee shop might be especially resistant. I personally know her and she has a strong attachment to the place,” she responds.

Nodding thoughtfully, I decide, “Understood. I’ll handle the negotiations with her personally. It’s crucial we approach this delicately to ensure a smooth acquisition.”

There are nods of agreement all around. As the meeting concludes, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. Elevating the Edenton branch’s performance is imperative, and this potential land acquisition could be a strategic move in that direction.

After the meeting, I return to my office and pull up the property details for the parcel on Maple Street. The coffee shop, Emilia’s Café, stands out as the centerpiece of the lot. My eyebrows rise as I read the name of the shop.

Emilia?

I make a call asking for more information on the owner of the café and my suspicions are confirmed. It would seem the newest Cameron and I are meant to keep running into each other.

Later that evening, I decide it might be prudent to pay the café a visit. A stakeout to gauge the best route for the acquisition. I drive through the familiar streets of Edenton, taking note of just how much has changed and how much of it is still the same.

The town exudes a quaint charm, with its tree-lined avenues and well-persevered architecture. I pass by the local bakery, its windows displaying an array of freshly baked goods, and the old bookstore, its sign slightly faded but still inviting. I used to spend a lot of my time in both those shops as a teenager.

Turning onto Maple Street, I spot the parcel of land in question. Like it was stated in the documents I examined, Emilia’s Café is right in the middle. The exterior is painted a warm, inviting shade, and potted plants adorn the entrance, giving it a homely feel. I park my car across the street and take a moment to observe.

According to the report Lisa Briggs submitted on the café, it hasn’t had a steady stream of customers in a while. Not after the shopping mall that our company recently finished in the town a couple months ago. There shouldn’t be any reason not to sell the place.

Taking a deep breath, I exit the care and cross the street, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee growing stronger with each step. I push open the door and a small bell chimes, announcing my arrival. The interior is cozy, with mismatched furniture that somehow fits together perfectly. Soft music plays in the background, and the walls are adorned with local art.

Behind the counter, Emilia is busy preparing a drink. She has on a white apron and her blonde hair is in a high ponytail thatswishes behind her as she moves around behind the counter. She’s attending to a man standing in front of the counter.

She looks up as I approach and our eyes meet. Recognition flickers in her face, followed by surprise.

“Sterling Harrington?” she asks, handing the customer his drink.

He thanks her with a small smile, and after a curt nod in my direction, he exits the shop.

“Emilia Cameron,” I acknowledge her, standing in front of the counter.

She sizes me up a little, blue eyes moving over my face. “So, is there a reason you’re currently in my shop?”

“To buy coffee?” I say it like it’s a question.

She hums in disbelief. “I’m sure there’s a café between here and wherever you came from that you could have bought coffee at. Try again.”

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