Page 74 of Suck My Puck

I smile at mother and daughter as they joke with each other despite the tiny ping of pain in my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve joked with my mom and dad like this. Ever since I moved to Toronto to be with Matt, things between us have been frosty. They never really liked him, and when I told them I was moving countries and buying a house with him, that caused even more strain between us. And ever since I moved into my aunt’s apartment, we haven’t spoken much because we always end up arguing.

I wish I could have a fun-loving and affectionate relationship with them again.

I push aside the sadness and try to focus on the good things happening right now. Ingrid’s mom and friends are loving the gourmet coffee bar I set up. For the hour that I’ve been here, everyone has been raving about the drinks I prepared and the bakery board I put together with pastries, fruit, and other treats.

“Bella, darling, I have a favor to ask. Please feel free to say no,” Amy says.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Well, I just love the way you roast your coffee beans. And you already know how terrible I am in the kitchen,” she says. “Could I pay you to roast fresh coffee beans and deliver them to my home every week? I’ll pay you whatever you’d like.”

Before I can answer, one of Amy’s friends walks over to us. “Oh, what a brilliant idea. Would I be able to pay you to do the same for me, Bella?”

“Me too.”

“Yes, I’d like that too!”

Before I can utter a word, all the women in the group have asked me to roast and deliver coffee beans to them.

It takes a second to process it all.

“Sure, I’d be happy to do that for you ladies,” I say. “As long as you’re okay with the cost.” I hesitate for a second, working up the nerve to tell them an estimate of how much I’ll have to charge each of them for a single bag of roasted coffee beans.

“When I factor in roasting time and the delivery fee, it will probably be around a fifty bucks per bag of roasted beans.”

I managed to keep my tone light and pleasant, eventhough I’m freaking out on the inside. No way they’re going to say yes to that.

But all of them chuckle and say no problem, that they’d be happy to pay.

I glance at all of them. “Really? You’re okay with that?”

They all say yes without hesitation.

I let out a laugh of sheer disbelief. I just secured an extra $1200 of income each week.

They all tell me thank you before jumping back into conversations with each other.

Ingrid steps over to me, grinning. “You’re a hit, Bella. This group is officially in love with your coffee.”

I can’t help the cheesy grin I flash. “I can’t thank you enough for recommending me to your mom and her friends, Ingrid. This has been such a blast. And I can’t believe that they want to pay me that much money for home-roasted and hand-delivered coffee beans.”

Ingrid smiles and shrugs. “This group loves to spend money. Especially when they’re in a good mood and sipping on yummy beverages.”

I chuckle, still in disbelief. I still have a long way to go to fully replenish my savings, but if I can turn this coffee side gig into a steady stream of extra income, it would help improve my financial situation way faster.

“My mom is going to tell everyone about your coffee. You’re going to get a lot of business out of this, just wait and see,” Ingrid says, squeezing my shoulder in encouragement.

I’m grinning so wide, my cheeks hurt. I’m so excited about this.

“That bakery board was genius.” Ingrid nods to the massive wooden board on the marble kitchen island, where I set up mini croissants, small jars of jam, fresh berries,hazelnuts, and chunks of dark chocolate. “And all the different kinds of milk you brought.”

Next to the carafes are different types of milk in ceramic cups.

She turns to me. “I didn’t even know cashew milk existed until I came here to help you set up.”

I laugh. “Non-dairy milk options are a requirement in the coffee world.”

I go to check on the milk and notice the almond milk is running low, so I grab more from the refrigerator.

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