Saving Noel

Benjamin

There were few things in life that gave Benjamin Morris a greater sense of pleasure than walking into his coffee shop in the darkest hours of morning, the aroma of yesterday's brews lingering in the air. He'd walk to the counter, splay his hands across the countertop, and survey the room with wonder. Once this had been a dream- an intangible thing hoped for as he fell asleep at night. And very soon, if things didn't change, it would become a prophecy fulfilled- the failure his father always warned him it would be.

    Rolling up the sleeves of his green sweater, he flipped on the lights in the bakery display and grabbed a bag of beans to fill the hopper in the espresso machine. Its copper parts gleamed as he went about finishing the set up: running shots of water first, then one with espresso to test the length of the pull. It was too short, so he recalibrated the tamper and tested again. Perfection. The steam wands were next- turned on to clear the spray of cleaner from soaking all night. The spit and hiss was a comforting sound. After wiping them down, he grabbed a pitcher filled with fresh, ice cold milk and began to froth the creamy liquid.

    Keeping the wand close to the side of the pitcher and near the surface of the milk, he created a vortex in the milk before beginning to move the pitcher up and down, turning the milk to foam. There was a thermometer in the cup, but he'd been doing it so long now that he could hear when the temperature reached 160 degrees.

    "Hey boss," Gerrie said, walking in from the back. He turned off the steam and poured the heavy lather into his espresso shot, inhaling the heady fragrance. Rubbing her baby bump, Gerrie snickered. "You do know this is why you're single, right?"

    Benjamin sipped the latte, letting the it rest on his back palate, savoring the hints of chocolate in its flavor profile. "What," he said, pausing to take another sip, "are you talking about?"

    She pulled out an empty tray from the bakery case and began to fill it with pastries. A dark eyebrow arched when he snagged a cheese danish, but she put another in its empty spot without speaking.

    "Are you going to elaborate?" he pressed, following his employee to the back. He told himself he was content with being single, but he couldn't afford to pass up the opportunity to get a little insight from the female population should he change his mind.

    Gerrie chuckled. "If you talked and looked at women the way you smell and taste coffee, you'd be fighting them off."

    Benjamin's shoulders dropped, and he set his drink down to take the heavy boxes his employee was trying to lift. He jerked his chin in the direction of the clean towels. "You can fold those and open the register. I'll finish the bakery case."

    "You just want to steal another danish," she accused, grabbing the money from the safe before picking up the bucket of towels. "Hey, I saw that."

    "They're just so good," he said, licking his lips and vowing that was the last one. The shop couldn't afford to lose any more revenue than it already was.

    "Mmhmm, and you wonder why we're always out of the danishes before the morning rush is over." She closed the register drawer, flicked it to on, and reached beneath the counter to turn up the music. Folding the towels, she hummed along with the merry tune and bobbed her head.

    "I can't believe you don't wait until the last minute to turn the music on," Benjamin said, wincing as Mariah Carey hit a high note in her Christmas song. Was it just him or did the sound become harsher and more jarring every time the song played?

    "Stop being such a grinch," she fussed. "It's officially December-meaning I get to enjoy my love of all things holiday while you and the other Scrooge's have to suffer without complaint."

    "That was the same rule you used the day after Halloween."

    "And," she said, wagging her finger in the air, "I was vetoed. You refused to let me play Christmas music until the day after Thanksgiving. Now, open those doors, let's get through the rush, and then you have very important business to attend to this afternoon."

    Benjamin froze, turning his eyes towards his petite employee. Confusion swirled in the dark depths, and he searched his brain for anything important he might have forgotten. His chest tightened with panic. Had he missed a bill? The budget was tight- there was no room for anything else, and if he'd forgotten to pay something it would put everything off. No, there was no way. He was meticulous.

    And Gerrie's face was far too cheerful for it to be anything like that. Confusion morphed to suspicion. "What are you talking about?"

    She plopped a Santa hat on her toffee colored curls, put on her red apron, and pointed at the door. Some of their regulars were waiting patiently outside the door- knowing they were a few minutes early and knowing Benjamin would open the door for them.

    "You've got to hang the Christmas lights." She pointed at her protruding belly. "I can't do it this year. Not unless you want my husband to murder you when he finds out."

    Benjamin groaned. He would've rather missed a bill. He flipped the switch on the neon sign, declaring the shop open and unlocked the door. "Hey Harold, Gregg, Laura. It's cold out there today."

    "Sure is. Thanks for letting us in early," Harold said- it was the same conversation they had every morning.

    "Of course," Benjamin replied, his smile widening when he spotted a new face standing in the line. A smattering of freckles covered a slim, pale nose, and above them rested the brightest green eyes he'd ever seen. "Hello. Welcome to A Cuppa Cheer."