Page 18 of Caffeinated in Amesbury
10
Thomas
I ran my fingers over the worn edge of the sales ledger, its numbers a stark contrast to the holiday cheer that was supposed to be engulfing the town. The scent of freshly ground coffee - usually so comforting - now seemed tinged with the bitter aroma of worry. I glanced around Caffeinated Bliss, the business I poured my heart into, and I could almost hear the ticking of the clock winding down on our dreams.
"Okay, I've got it!" I exclaimed, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between my brother and I. Cole looked up from wiping down the espresso machine, eyebrow raised in anticipation. "What if we dress up as giant coffee beans? We could hand out flyers and dance around the town square!" My voice was a mix of earnestness and desperation.
Cole snorted, a laugh bubbling up uncontrollably. "You in a bean costume? Now, that’s a Christmas miracle I'd pay to see!"
"Come on, it might work!" I said, but even as the words left my mouth, I saw the humor in it. The image of myself, tall and usually so composed, flapping around in a bean suit like some deranged Thanksgiving Day Parade reject, was ludicrous.
Cole leaned against the counter, chuckling. "Brother, you've read too many of those whimsical novels of yours. This is real life."
The tension easing from my shoulders momentarily. But then, like the abrupt end of a song, reality cut in. The ledger loomed on the table, its red figures unforgiving. Even though we had been getting more business, the cost to keep the place open was becoming more and more. Blair had been helping us by holding Release Day Signings here. On that day, we usually made more than they typically did in a month.
"Right, right," I sighed, rubbing at my temple. My mind churned with calculations and forecasts, none of which were in our favor. "We need something fast-acting. Something that doesn't involve... bean costumes."
"Or reindeer antlers," Cole added, still grinning but noticing the crease of concern deepening on my forehead. "We need cash flow, not just laughs."
"Exactly." I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the wooden floor. I paced back and forth, my hands clasped behind his back – a caged animal trying to strategize an escape. "We need a plan that brings in revenue before the holidays hit full swing. If we don’t capitalize on this season..."
"We're toast. Burnt toast," Cole finished for me, the frivolity draining from his tone. He knew well enough what was at stake – our livelihood, our pride, the community we cherished.
"Let's think outside the box. Outside any box that has ever existed," I said, the fervor returning to my eyes. "But let's keep it practical. No more fantasy ideas."
"Agreed." Cole nodded, his playful demeanor now replaced by the sharp focus that came with being backed into a corner. "We pull this off, and we're not just the local café. We're a Christmas legend."
"Alright then. Let's get to it." I reached for a blank page in my notebook, the crisp sound of the paper turning echoing our resolve. As the snow began to fall gently outside, blanketing the world in white, inside Caffeinated Bliss, we set to work concocting our possible salvation.
"Buy One, Get One Free" promotions adorned the screen, festooned with holly and digital snowflakes. I squinted at the glare of my laptop, eyes darting across a plethora of holiday deals from rival coffee shops, each one more enticing than the last. The aroma of espresso mixed with the scent of pine from the small tree we had set up in the corner of Caffeinated Bliss, lending an air of Christmas to our desperate research.
"Look at this," Cole said, nudging my arm. "A '12 Days of Coffee' event. Each day, a new blend on discount. It's genius!"
I rubbed my chin, considering the logistics. "That’s twelve different brews we'd have to perfect. And what if Day Four doesn’t sell? We’re stuck with gallons of Gingerbread Grind nobody wants."
"Ah, you worry too much!" Cole swiped through more pages, his hazel eyes dancing. "People love variety! Plus, it's festive."
"Or overwhelming." I leaned back in my chair. "We could streamline it. Make it a 'Winter Wonderland Week' instead. That way, we focus on top sellers but give them a holiday twist."
"Where's your sense of adventure?" Cole chuckled, ruffling his sandy hair. "This is Christmas, Thomas! Go big or go home!"
"Go broke, more like it," I mumbled under my breath, gaze fixed on the budget spreadsheet minimized at the bottom of my screen.
"Hey, what about this?" Cole pointed to an advertisement showing baristas donning Santa hats and elf costumes. "We could do themed-dress days. People eat that stuff up."
"Sure, and who's going to wear the reindeer costume? You?" A smirk played on my lips, picturing Cole with antlers.
"Only if you're Santa Claus," Cole shot back with a grin. "Come on, it'll be fun!"
"Fun doesn't always equate to profit," I insisted, tapping my pen against the notepad. My thoughts churned like the milk in our espresso machine, frothy with ideas but needing the right flavor to make it palatable.
"Sometimes, fun brings people through the door," Cole retorted, leaning closer. "And once they're in, they’ll see what makes us special."
"Like our mounting bills?" I quipped dryly, though I secretly admired Cole's unwavering optimism.
"Exactly!" Cole exclaimed, oblivious to the sarcasm. "They'll see our passion for coffee and community. They'll feel the love."
"Love doesn't keep the lights on," I countered, yet found myself softening. Cole was right about one thing—Caffeinated Bliss wasn't just a business; it was a haven for townsfolk seeking warmth in more ways than one.
