Page 19 of Caffeinated in Amesbury
"Neither does pessimism," Cole said, wagging a finger teasingly.
"Realism," I corrected, but the corner of my mouth twitched upward.
"Same difference." Cole winked. "So, are we doing this?"
I sighed, the weight of decision pressing down on me. But then, a spark ignited within, fueled by the embers of hope and the kindling of determination. We would find a middle ground, something sensational yet feasible. After all, opposites may attract, but it's the blend that creates the perfect cup.
"Picture this," Cole started, gesturing wildly, almost toppling off his seat. "A Winter Wonderland Latte Spectacular! Every cup comes with a chance to win a prize—free coffee for a year, discounts, merchandise!"
I raised an eyebrow, the green of my eyes deepening like pine needles against the winter snow. "And how do you propose we pay for these prizes if we're already struggling to keep the heat on?"
Cole’s grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Volume, dear brother! The allure will draw crowds, and voilà—profits!"
"Or we could focus on something more...sustainable," I countered, tapping the notepad where I'd meticulously outlined my own plan. "An elegant Christmas Eve soirée. Poetry readings, acoustic music, and a menu of gourmet holiday blends."
"Ah, so we cater to twelve people who appreciate 'gourmet' prices?" Cole quipped, the mischief in his eyes twinkling.
"Better than your plan to turn us into a carnival," I retorted, though a reluctant smirk tugged at my lips.
"Hey, people love carnivals!" Cole shot back, but his tone was light, playful.
"True," I conceded, leaning against the counter, a slow nod acknowledging our standoff. "We need excitement, I'll give you that. But we also need...substance."
"Substance with a side of spectacle?" Cole suggested, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
"Exactly," I mused, the corner of my mouth lifting as gears turned in my head. "Your Winter Wonderland draws them in, my soirée gives them a reason to stay—and return."
"Blend the two," Cole said, a spark of agreement igniting between us. "Our very own 'Caffeinated Christmas Blend Bash'."
"Add a dash of literary charm," I proposed, warming to the idea. "Readings from classic Christmas tales between lattes?"
"Sprinkle in some caroling contests, too," Cole added, bobbing his head to an imaginary tune.
"Caroling contests..." I repeated, and the absurdity struck me, laughter bubbling up from my chest. "I can see it now—the town's worst singers belting out 'Jingle Bells' for a free muffin."
"Exactly!" Cole laughed, clapping his hands together. "It's quirky, it's fun—it's us."
"Quirky, fun, and a touch of refinement," I corrected, but my smile was genuine, my vision aligning with Cole's for the first time in what felt like ages.
"Then it's settled," Cole declared, hopping off the stool with a flourish. "The 'Caffeinated Christmas Blend Bash' it is!"
"Settled," I agreed, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders as they shook hands, sealing our compromise. There was work to be done, decorations to hang, flyers to print, and perhaps, just maybe, a little bit of Christmas magic to make.
Together, we were more than just brothers; we were architects of festivity, creators of community cheer. And with this new plan, Caffeinated Bliss might just brew up the merriest Christmas the town had ever seen.
"Remember when we were kids, and mom made us decorate every inch of the house?" Cole reminisced, finally standing the tree upright. He brushed off a sprig of needles from his hair, looking like a woodland sprite caught in a domestic mishap.
"Hard to forget," I replied, descending the ladder to inspect our handiwork. I grinned at the memory. "She had that uncanny ability to make everything sparkle." My smile faded slightly as I wondered if we could create the same enchantment here, without her.
"Hey," Cole said, catching the shift in my demeanor. "We've got this. She'd be proud."
I cleared his throat, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, she would."
"Let's light this bad boy up!" Cole declared, plugging in the string of lights draped haphazardly around the tree.
"Wait, are those—" I began, but it was too late.
A symphony of pops echoed through the shop as half the lights fizzled out, leaving the tree blinking like an indecisive traffic light. Cole winced, and I couldn't contain the laughter that erupted.
