Morning Routine
Jake
It’s still dark when I head to work. Dark and cold. As it should be this time of year, I guess, but for whatever reason, I’m not a fan of the cold today. I reach over and turn up the heat, letting it blast through the cabin of my Bronco while wishing I was on my motorcycle in a summer wind. Summer’s a long way away, though. Hell, it’s barely Spring.
It’s April, but the last vestiges of the southern Colorado winter are still apparent as I drive through downtown—muddy patches of snow piled in slushy heaps along the sides of roads, slicks of ice on sidewalks where roofs have dripped melt over-day and refrozen overnight.
The staff parking lot is thankfully clear, but as my headlights catch the latest addition to what was once my personal break area, I tense and shake my head.
After years of having nothing but open grass space beneath a couple of gigantic oak trees behind my coffeehouse, that greenhouse is a real eyesore now.
Change is a constant in life, though, so I shouldn’t be surprised by the fact that I’m getting a new neighbor. The unit next door to me has been vacant for nearly a year, so a new business moving in is actually good for all of us. But a greenhouse? Seriously?
Before I even leave the car, I feel myself in a huff about it again, the usual complaints swirling like they did the day the contractors broke ground on the thing last fall. The water requirements must be enormous, and we’re on a well here. Not to mention the potential heating costs.
Really though, I’m just miffed that I never put a patio and table back there under the trees like I’d originally planned. Although, if I’m honest, that’s probably a good thing since technically that section is zoned to the unit next door and its new owner.
H. Sylvestra-Ashford.
“What kind of name is that?” I grouch, snagging my bag and locking my car.
I use the short walk to the back of my coffee shop to cool my head and re-center myself. The weather certainly helps, but honestly, I shouldn’t be so annoyed about what the new owner is choosing to do with their property.
There’s nothing to be gained by wasting my energy on things I can’t control.
I had a chance to put an offer on the space next door last year, and didn’t do it. I couldn’t justify the extra costs at the time, and I missed my window. Not that I actually mind. I like my little coffee shop and roastery as it is. It’s a small operation, but it’s mine.
Taking in my roasting space, I concede that things have a way of working out as they need to.
Business has been slower than usual lately, which would have made paying for the additional space and the necessary renovations a challenge if I’d actually purchased the unit next door. Even orders for the beans I roast have been slower this season, which isn’t great, but it’s been manageable.
Having a new business next door may actually help boost some traffic and sales for me, at least for the first few weeks after it opens. Pineberry Springs is quaint and laid-back in a lot of ways, but with it being so small, people tend to be nosy, which means there’s sure to be a good turnout whenever whatever is next door finally opens up.
If it ever does.
I shake my head again, silently reprimanding myself. I’m not sure why I’m in this edgy mood today, but it’s not helpful or productive. I need to get it together before my staff comes in for the day.
While doing my opening routine, I process my thoughts and come to the realization that it’s the unknown that’s bugging me. Construction and renovations next door finished months ago, but I’ve not seen hide nor hair of the new owner yet. I’ve seen their name on the utilities bill, as we share the costs now, but have no clue who H. Sylvestra-Ashford is. What character of a man, what they intend to bring to this town.
Something with plants, obviously based on the fact there’s a greenhouse out back now, but that’s not much to go on.
What if it’s a dispensary?
I chuckle to myself at that thought. A dispensary would actually be good for business here. In some ways, anyway.
I think the closest one to us is probably in Pagosa, so we’d be able to serve more of the northern New Mexico set if we had one here. Lord knows some of those guys down in Pine Haven could use a good toke now and then. My friends at the fire station there can be so uptight sometimes…
A knock shakes me from my thoughts, and I’m feeling brighter as I open the front door for Michele, who is carrying a huge covered tray that smells fantastic.
“Michele,” I gently scold, taking the tray from her. “You’re supposed to text me when you arrive so I can help carry this stuff, which smells incredible by the way.”
She shakes her head, smiling. “It’s not heavy, Jake. Honestly, you and every other man in town seem to think a woman can’t carry—”
“Women are strong,” I point out, setting the tray on the counter. “It’s not about strength, it’s about chivalry and helpfulness.”
Michele laughs at that, her brown eyes sparkling with delight. “Chivalry is definitely not dead in this town. But I’m the baker making the delivery. It’s literally my job to carry this stuff.”
“When have I ever let you do that alone here?”
