Page 80 of Coffee Shop Girl
The words flew out of her in a second, as if she’d already been thinking about this. Knowing how much time she spent in Dad’s mustard-colored recliner in the corner nook, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Lizbeth rose from the chair like a wood nymph.
She warmed to this at an alarming rate.
I unsuccessfully strove to quell a rush of panic as everything in the coffee shop met her scrutiny. Maverick watched with unbridled amusement.
“Cozy?” I repeated.
“Needs to be cozy. This is too...”
“Fishy?” Maverick offered. I glared at him. His lips twitched, but he offered no apology.
“Masculine,” Lizbeth countered. “But yes, all the fish have to go. I have a Pinterest board on this already. Do you want to see it?”
“What?”
Maverick tilted his head back and laughed. Lizbeth sent him a coquettish smile as she passed me her phone. Shedidhave a Pinterest board, filled with images of arguably cozy shops. This was spiraling from bad to worse.
“I’m a dreamer,” she said easily. “I like books, and I like pretty places. Since this is all I have to work with”—she waved a hand around—“I imagine myself in one of these other places. Anyway, more warm tones. The floor is beautiful, but needs a polish. I’d paint the walls, probably change from white to plum. Bookshelves on that wall, for starters. Keep the moose head, I actually think it works. We’ll go withrustic cozy, and it’s going to change this mountain forever.”
She pointed to the fishy wall while I scrolled through the pins on her board.
Indeed, she’d thought this out.
The pictures showed warm lamps that cast buttery light. People milling around high and low tables. Chalkboards with fun writing and colors, instead of hastily scratched options. High class. In comparison, this place seemed ... desperate.
“Wow,” I murmured.
Lizbeth slipped over to one corner. “A lamp here. Maybe one with a silhouetted moose. You need to play more on your theme. And I think we amp up the mountain feel more. It’s a bit lacking right now, but gives people the outdoor theme they come here for. That antiques store in Jackson City? We could refurbish from that with less than two hundred dollars. I’d bet my position as romance queen on it.”
Maverick pointed at her as if to say,Check her out?
“She’ll be unbearable after this,” I muttered as Lizbeth studied the glass windows peering out on a hideous parking lot.
“We can do all that,” Maverick said.
“With what money?” I cried.
He ignored me.
“Will you help, Lizbeth?” he asked.
She tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder. “You can’t afford me, Mav.”
Maverick laughed again.
Lizbeth rolled her eyes. “Um, yes, I will help you! This could be my big break into the interior-design space. Plus, then I can show all my Pinterest followers. They have ads there, you know. I could haul in some cash.” She gazed at me from under thick, pale eyelashes. “Besides, we owe you, don’t we?”
Before I could counter, she started prattling again, bouncing around the room. I let her live in it while I staved off the utter panic scalding my throat. It wasn’t just the money—although that was part of it. It was the change. The shift. The loss of control as this all moved forward.
The total erasure of Dad.
We were getting rid of everything that made this place Dad’s. The fish. The colors. The not-so-organized feel of clutter and coffee. It certainly wasn’t impressive, but it wasn’t a hole, either. Besides, I made great coffee, and that’s all anyone cared about.
Right?
Maverick watched me carefully. I forced the thoughts back. I’d sort through them later, on the motorcycle.
No, I wouldn’t do that, either, would I?
