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Beth looks at me closely with those big hazel eyes of her. I swear they don’t miss anything.

I brace for her to ask me something else about my dad, but instead, she says, “Will it annoy you if I’m gung-ho about the holiday?”

I huff out a laugh. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to annoy me, Bethy.”

Beth’s eyes widen.

Ope. There goes my big mouth, saying more than I mean to say, bringing us back to awkward land.

“So”—I clear my throat—“have you thought about where we should start the Dash? Maybe if we get the first stop of the day sorted out, we’ll have something to work with.”

Beth is nodding. “Good thinking.”

We stare at each other expectantly.

“What’s your idea?”

“I was waiting for you!” I point at her.

She lets her head loll back. “We’re not getting anywhere. Think, think, think.”

I can’t tell if she’s demanding that I think or if she’s scolding herself. She has her eyes closed, and she’s pressed her fist on her forehead, as if deep in thought, so I’m thinking the latter.

I glance around the café. Patrice is dishing up a plate of pastries for a customer, and my mom’s two other workers are pouring coffees and bringing out breakfast platters to those who are staying for a sit-down meal.

“What about—”

“We could start—”

I wave my hand for her to continue.

“Here,” Beth says. “But what were you going to say?”

“Here,” I echo.

Our gazes click together, and warmth unfurls in my chest as a full-fledged smile lights up Beth’s face.

“Yes. Okay. Yes! I think it’s perfect.” Beth wiggles a little in her seat. “This is where the majority of the town starts their day anyway, so it’s a logical first stop on the Dash.”

“And,” I say, feeling myself get into the spirit of the event, “if we promote the Dash to the greater Milwaukee metro area and even Chicago, and get some teams who aren’t as familiar with Dasher Valley, it’s a great way to expose them to what the Clatter Café has to offer.”

Beth snaps her fingers. “Absolutely. We can use that as incentive in our pitch to the owners of any other stop on the Dash.”

“Right. But one thing at a time.” I lean back in my chair, assessing the café again. “What will people do when they get here? Buy something?”

Beth frowns. “That’s not very fun. Don’t get me wrong, your mom’s food and coffee is legendary, but there should be something else here. Something that elevates this place from being the Clatter Café on a random Tuesday to”—Beth stretches her hand across the air in front of her, like she’s seeing the words in lights—“the Clatter Café, stop number one of the Christmas Dash.”

“I came up with the stop. You should come up with what people do here.” I take a sip of my coffee. There really is nothing like it. I make a mental note to tell my mom to pass along my appreciation to her coffee roasters.

“Hey, we both came up with the stop!” Beth pouts, but it doesn’t last long. Her eyes light up. “Okay, I got it. We said stopping for coffee here is, like, the first thing people do in the day, right?”

“Right.” I stretch out the word, not seeing where she’s going with this. “So what?”

“So, what else do people do at the beginning of their day?”

“Shower. Check their phones. Let the dog out.”

“Not what I was thinking.” She chuckles, giving me a chance to fill in the blank, but I got nothing. “They get dressed,” she says.