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Chapter 1
Lily
“Good morning, Maria! Your cinnamon rolls smell divine.”
“Buenos dias, chica. Gracias.”
The best baker in the state works in my little coffee shop, and I know how lucky I am. First, it means I don’t have to get up so early every day. Second, her baked goods attract a bunch of customers. We have some regulars who come in every morning for one of her scones. Heck, I’ve gained ten pounds since she started working at Koffee Karma, and I don’t regret a single crumb.
It’s early, about 6:30, so the morning rush hasn’t started. I pet the shop cat, Mocha, on my way to my office. One of the benefits of living in an apartment above the shop is a very short commute. I woke up just thirty minutes ago, took a quick shower, braided my hair, threw on a floral tunic dress, and now I’m ready to go.
My office feels a little more professional than the rest of the shop, a bit of a holdover from my corporate days. But I am running a business and I still get to wear my comfy outfits, so I don’t mind. I update the website with the February menu and catch up on a few administrative things.
The new owners of the building are coming by today. I’ve been renting the space for over a year, and business is going well. But I still want to get some things ready and make a good first impression.
Surprisingly, just after seven, I hear some movement from the empty space next door. The new owners must be early risers. I’ll just bring some coffee and pastries over and welcome them to the neighborhood.
“Maria, what do we have that’s still warm from the oven?” I start putting together a tray with organic sugar, locally-sourced cream, and other yummy coffee stuff.
“Here are some blueberry muffins and a ham and cheese quiche.” She carries over two plates and places them on the tray.
“Thank you, Maria. You’re an angel.”
She purses her lips in reply and heads back to the kitchen.
Lastly I add napkins and silverware and I’m ready to head over. Well, as soon as I take a picture of this delicious looking tray and post it to the Koffee Karma social media accounts.
I hear some clanking through the wall, so I know they’re up and about. Each business in the building has a front and a back door. I pick up the tray, head to the back, and open my back door with my hip. The doors lock automatically when they close, so it’s common practice to prop the door open with a handy block of wood, door stopper, or something similar.
The owners have done the same thing next door, propped the door open with a brick. Which is why it's easy for me to overhear a masculine voice saying my name. I pause, shamelessly eavesdropping.
“The coffee shop next door is owned by someone named Moon Lily.” He scoffs. “Sounds like a hippie. Probably a woo woo fairy chick who doesn’t even know how to run a business. What kind of a name is Koffee Karma anyway?”
Another deep voice responds, “We’ll have to stop by later this morning and check the place out. If she’s as flaky as her name suggests, we’ll just have to find someone new to rent the space.”
What. The. Fuck?
These guys don’t even know me and they’re already talking about kicking me out. My jaw clenches and I back quietly away from the door. I’m able to keep my temper until I’m back in my own kitchen, where I firmly place the tray on the counter. See! That’s how professional I am. I take care of my stuff even when I’m furious.
Those assholes. I stomp around the kitchen, pacing back and forth, dress tangling in my legs. Not even the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls can calm me down. I have an MBA from freaking Harvard. I was the youngest woman ever promoted to VP in Fairview Services, Inc. Koffee Karma has been in the black since it started because I used my own savings to get it off the ground. Not only that, but I’ve already doubled my investment and am on track to triple it in the next year.
I left the corporate world to get away from pricks like this. I got tired of uncomfortable pant suits and petty politics. That’s why I started my own business, so I can show up to work in comfy clothes and no one gets to tell me what to do. Yes, my parents named me Moon Lily, but that’s just the name on the lease. Anyone who knows me, knows I go by Lily.
Well, if they’re expecting Moon Lily, hippie chick, maybe that’s who I should give them. “Maria, I need incense, carob chips, stevia, and an apron.”
