“I vaguely recall this.” I tap my chin and look over the space as ideas start to trickle into my mind. “You really think she meant it? To help make this place shine?”
“Yeah.” Dakota shrugs and goes back to work.
“Dakota.” I reach over and shut her laptop, something I know she hates, but I need her complete attention. “Do you think . . . do you think Finella was alluding to us actually making something of the coffee shop again? Like, did she hire us to bring it back to life?”
“Maybe. She did mention that she created the ad to bring some fun attention to the coffee shop. Wasn’t expecting it to bring two Americans to Corsekelly to run it, but she said Americans know their coffee houses, and maybe we could put our touch on it.”
“And you’re just telling me this now? After over a week of absolute boredom? What is wrong with you?”
“Why on earth would you try to fix something if you don’t have a baseline?” Dakota asks, and her simple reasoning is far too annoying to appreciate. “You can’t possibly fix something without finding out what’s wrong with it first.”
She’s right about that . . . unfortunately.
Just then, another tour bus pulls away. I glance at the time on my phone—they were here for half an hour. Half an hour in Corsekelly, and not one of them came into the coffee shop.
The only visitor was Fergus, and frankly that’s just sad. But we did have a riveting conversation about hooves. Even though his look like little vaginas, I told him not to be self-conscious—and if he really wanted to spice things up, I could paint them in a pretty plaid pattern with nail polish. He said he would consider it. Between you and me, I’m pretty sure he’s going to pass.
But Fergus as our lone visitor isn’t going to cut it.
“Do you know how much business we miss out on because we’re offering plain coffee and hot chocolate packets?” I ask. “This place has the potential for more—much more. We could offer so many other drinks, baked goods, specials that go hand in hand. Coffee and a buttery. We can have Penis Stone souvenirs. There aren’t many here in town. And what about Fergus? I mean, he’s a town treasure, and no one is selling anything Fergus themed. Think of all the money we could make for Finella and Stuart. We could jump-start this entire coffee shop and give it a new life.”
For the first time in I don’t know how long, excitement bubbles up inside me. My mind whirs with all the possibilities, all the potential the coffee house has.
“You can design a new sign. Create a logo for the shop. Design all the shirts and merch. The menus—oh my God, this could be huge, Dakota.” I push at her shoulder. “Doesn’t this excite you?”
“Sure,” she says, so casually that it makes me want to scream.
“What do you mean, ‘sure’？ Done right, we could capitalize on those tour buses and create something special here. And according to all the career assessments I’ve taken, organizational skills are my best attribute. This is right up my alley.”
Dakota smiles and opens her laptop back up. “I can see you really creating something special.”
“Really? Do you mean that?”
“Of course. I say go for it.”
“Yeah?” I ask, nearly bouncing up and down.
“Yeah, but whatever you do, you have to run it by Rowan first.”
Poof!
Did you see that splatter of hope? That was all my excitement drying up like a string bean in the desert.
Shriveled up and morphed into dust, only to be picked up by a gust of wind and carried off into the land where dreams don’t come true.
“What do you mean, run it by Rowan?”
“Did you not pay attention to a thing I told you our first night?”
“Oh, excuse me.” I hold up my hands. “I was jet-lagged, had a Scottish man try to speak to me while tapping his crotch, thought I was going to die on a roundabout in a MINI Cooper, was fed sheep intestines—and then quickly disposed of those intestines—only to be accosted by a grumpy Scot who found my broom wielding more comical than threatening. I apologize for not remembering the smallest of details.”
“Maybe that was why you were fired three times,” Dakota says with a huge smirk.
I point a finger at her. “You’re an asshole.”
We both laugh, and Dakota turns back to her screen. “Seriously, though, Finella said whatever we do, just to run it by him first.” She shrugs. “Seems fair. She doesn’t want two strangers coming in and destroying the integrity of their coffee shop.”