Page 4 of It's a Brewtiful Day
All the locals knew about Coffee Loft; it was the tourists who didn’t. Because our strip of stores wasn’t on the main drag, most missed it, unless they walked around and happened to spot it.
She tucked her wallet into her purse. “Heading to the BC interior from Lloydminster. Going to check out Lake Louise on our way.”
“It’s lovely this time of year, and now that school is back in session, it shouldn’t be crazy busy like it is in the spring or summer.”
I made it a habit of never visiting Banff and the area during the summer; it was wildly packed with tourists. I pushed the bag toward her.
“Don’t forget to stop by and caffeinate at Coffee Loft. They have the best maple twistmacchiato. Although their Pumpkin Spice is nice too.” Suddenly, I had a pang for that sweet caffeine and sugar rush. I didn’t even get a taste of my maple twist. The books, the table, and the floor had all the fun. “You should check them out.”
“I absolutely will.” She grabbed the bag and strolled over to the door.
Most quaint little shops had bells over their door to let the workers know when a customer entered. I felt it took away from the charm and solitude of the place and campaigned pretty hard to Harvey, the owner, to remove it, especially since our checkout desk was at the door. I didn’t have to twist his rubber arm too hard, and he relented, agreeing.
We’d also moved two comfy chairs into the middle of the store so customers could peruse the book at their leisure, and we reduced the volume of the music to make the place more appealing. It worked. Customers—locals and tourists—enjoyed spending time between the pages inside our store, and many times we needed to remind them when the store was closing. But that worked to our advantage since they usually went home with whatever book they’d been deeply ensconced in.
I rearranged the book-page paper flowers on pipe cleaner stems in a vase, putting the larger ones on top. At first, Harvey had not been onboard, but when I added them to the database and started selling them, suddenly he was full steam ahead. They were easy to make, customers loved them, and they were agreat way to upcycle the worn and damaged books from both the customersandthe Little Free Library. A triple win.
As I was pulling the pipe cleaners off the shelf and adding the good glue to my collection, another customer walked in and with a heavy thump, set a box of books on the counter, narrowly missing the bag of craft supplies.
“You take used books, correct?”
I nodded, pushing my shoulders back. “I don’t know what you’re Tolkien about.”
His eyebrows pushed into a deep frown. Guess he wasn’t that type of a customer.
“Yes, we do, but only as a donation. We don’t buy the books, but we do offer you a one-to-one discount for future purchases for any that we keep.”
“Nah, I don’t want any discounts. I don’t need more. Trying to clear out the shelves.” He opened the box, and I peered inside.
They all looked like trade paperbacks, aside from the one hardback without its dustjacket. “It’ll take me an hour or so to go through all these and see what we’ll keep.”
“Just throw out whatever you don’t need. I don’t want it back.” He spun on his heels and was out the door before I could protest.
“You have Gatsby kidding me,” I said with a light chuckle before a heavy sigh blew out.
This was an ongoing problem. People dropped off their old books and ran. Half of thebooks were stained and beyond being turned into anything worthwhile, and those that were in decent shape were either super out-dated or we had copies of them already. There weren’t many used bookstores or thrift shops left in the country that needed copies of any of the Harry Potter series. There was only so much I could do with them; book trees and flowers, or making them into a hidden storage by cutting out a one-inch-deep square inside the pages.
One by one I pulled out the used books, instantly sorting them into damaged, acceptable, and like-new condition. Sadly, the damaged pile was already dwarfing the acceptable condition stack.
The door opened again and my heart fluttered.
Elliot.
Not in a million years would I have expected him, of all the gorgeous men in Jasper to walk through that door right now. His shy smile caught me off guard and my brain started to fizzle and sputter.
“Hello,” I said as calmly as possible, although there was nothing about the man that kept me calm. Just being in his presence raised my temperature and my pulse to embarrassingly high levels.
“Hey.” He walked over and set a takeaway cup on the counter. “This is for you. Your maple twist macchiato from earlier that I dropped on the floor.”
“You mean the one I let go of.”
He shrugged, but the corners of his mouth tipped upward. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Thank you. This is a sweet surprise, and I was just starting to crash from the lack of caffeine.”
“That’s a sure sign of addiction, you know.”
I leaked out a small smile. “Then I’m a huge addict.”