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CHAPTER 1
KATE
Why can’t I sleep in on my one day a week that I don’t have to be to work until seven am instead of six? My eyes are closed, and I’m refusing to open them and let in the morning light. If I do open my eyes, Wilbur, my pet goose, will recognize that I’m awake and start honking for breakfast.
I pull the blankets up to my chin and roll over to my side. I’m just about back to sleep, in that transition stage where I’m not awake, but not asleep, either, when the pounding on my door jolts both me and Wilbur completely awake.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
“Kate? You awake? The ladies and I are doing our walk and want to know if you’ll be joining us this morning.” Gladys, one of my neighbors from down the street, yells through my door.
I sigh and throw the covers off me and climb out of bed. I bang my throbbing finger against the wall. Cutting myself with a knife the other day wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, and now it’s infected. The doctor gave me antibiotics and even though it’s healing, banging it on the wall will not speed up that process.
“Honk. Honk. Honk. Honk.” Wilbur honks at me as he waddles to the front door of my tiny house.
“Yes, Wilbur. I hear the knocking, too.” I follow him to the door.
“Honk. Honk. Honk.”
“I’m moving as fast as I can at this hour.” I open my front door and Wilbur bursts out and over to the grassy area outside my tiny house and goes potty. Both Gladys and I watch him. “Good morning, Gladys.”
“Good morning, Kate. The girls and I are going walking. Do you want to join us?” I look at Gladys all decked out in her yellow shorts, yellow tank top, and yellow sun visor. She looks like a walking sunflower.
“Not today. I’m doing a deep clean at the shop before opening. I don’t have time. Thanks for inviting me, though.”
“Okay, then. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Gladys walks over to the other three older ladies that like to walk every day in the RV park where we live. They all wave at me and then power walk down the street.
“Honk.” Wilbur climbs into his kiddie pool and splashes around.
“Are you hungry, Wilbur?”
At the sound of his name, he honks at me. “Honk.”
I step out onto my patio and open the container with his grain and mealworms in it and scoop up his breakfast and pour it into his bowl. “Here you go, buddy. Looks yummy.” It doesn’t, but you know… he’s a goose. I’m sure it looks yummy to him.
“Honk.” He eats out of his bowl from his kiddie pool. Lazy bum.
I pull the hose out and water my vegetable plants and then add water to Wilbur’s pool. I harvest some of my tomatoes and peppers. They’ll make great ingredients for breakfast today.
After showering, doing my hair and makeup, I plug in my oven and make a breakfast burrito with my newly harvested veggies. Once I’m done eating, I clean up, unplug everything, lock up my tiny house, and then head out to work. “Be a good goose, Wilbur.”
He wanders the neighborhood while I’m at the shop. He’s like the mayor of our little community. Wilbur spends time with each resident that will give him treats, hangs out with the ducks at the pond, and then naps in his little hut. I built him one on my back patio for him to hand out in until I come home. Then we spend the evening together watching television and then off to his goose bed, which is actually a dog bed, but we don’t tell him that, and he sleeps all night with me.
“Honk. Honk.” He wags his tail feathers at me.
“You have a good day, too, buddy.” I climb into my Toyota RAV4 and head to work.
As I drive down Main Street towards my shop, the sun is rising over the water that my town is named after, Hibiscus Harbor. It’s beautiful here. I love my hometown. We’re on the east coast of Florida between West Palm Beach and Daytona Beach.
Hibiscus Harbor is a hidden gem. Few tourists know about my little slice of heaven, and the residents of Hibiscus Harbor are perfectly content with that. Only the rich and famous know about Hibiscus Harbor, and they mostly stay holed up in their mansions or at the resort on Hibiscus Island. They don’t want the tourists here either.
Hibiscus Harbor is a small town by Florida standards and is the typical tropical paradise. Palm trees, greenery, beaches, marinas, and, of course, hibiscus plants line all the roadways throughout the town. We all take pride in our little slice of heaven.
I pull into the parking lot I share with Pizza Pizzaz, the other tenant in this plaza, and enter through the back door of my shop, the Bean and Bagel. I’ve owned this little coffee and bagel shop for eight years and it’s been so much fun. I love being my own boss and being part of my community.
Sitting prominently on the corner of US-1 and Main Street, across from the fire station and police department, Bean and Bagel is my baby. I’ve taken this little shop from an old, worn-out, empty flower shop to the place to get coffee, bagels, and pastries for many residents every day. I know what my customers want, and I deliver that to them each time. It’s why I’m so successful.
I’d love to expand one day to include making wedding cakes, but unless the pizza place next door finally moves out, my store has nowhere to expand unless I move locations, and moving isn’t an option. I’m across the street from the fire station and police department and I sell the best coffee in town. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. I move Bean and Bagel, and I’m shooting myself in the foot.
