I haven’t slept. Or maybe I have, and I didn’t know it. That’s been known to happen to people, right?

Either way, I’m wired as hell as I drive from Norma’s to The Coffee Spot. Chris’s advice has been rattling around in my brain all night. On the one hand, how dare he? He’s the younger brother. On the other hand, shit, he’s right.

The regulars are waiting like they wait every morning, but there’s been a subtle shift. I go into The Coffee Spot from the side door and peek out onto the street before I turn on the lights.

They’ve divided themselves. 

Some are waiting for Medium Roast. 

Some are waiting for me.

It’s an edgy kind of standoff, and the vibe on the street is a tense one. Such divided loyalties. I’d laugh, but I know how serious this can get. You can lose a love over it.

You can...but I’m not going to.

Seeing those cars parked out there gives me an idea. It’s a tiny-ass idea at first, not worthy of speaking out loud, but then one of those shadows leans forward and spots me inside the store.

That’s it. 

I’ve been looking at this all wrong. In my mind, it’s been me against them, though they’ve been slowly coming to my side ever since Medium Roast went on that strange hiatus. Medium Roast—no, since Ellie went on that strange hiatus. There’s no sign of her, but all the coffee lovers are still out there. They’re torn, but they need caffeine nonetheless.

And I need them.

I have the solution to everything.

All I have to do is convince them to help me.

I sprint back behind the counter and grind enough espresso to start the day, and then get the drip coffee started.

I’m opening early.

* * *

It takes some convincing to get Lou Brewer to sit down with me.

He’s been standing across the street since the beginning of all this. I recognize him from Ellie’s description and the fact that he makes return trips throughout the day for refills. He’s not as flashy as Morris and Walt, but he’s been out there, all the same. 

I catch him on the other side of the street, waiting to see if today’s the day that Medium Roast will return.

“Sir!” I shout into the summer morning glow.

He ignores me at first.

“Sir!” I try again. “Coffee!” I raise the to-go cup in my hand. I don’t know how he takes it, but I’m hoping he’ll need cream and sugar. That way he’ll have to come inside, and I can get the information I need straight from the source.

He hesitates, his head swinging back to look at Medium Roast.

It’s closed up tight, the butcher paper still on the windows.

Then he looks at me.

Checks his watch.

Looks both ways.

Jogs across the street.

“What is this, some kind of bribe?” he asks as he comes to a stop, eyeing the to-go cup. 

“Do you take it black?”

“No,” he says, making a face. “Two creams and a sugar.”

“Come on in,” I tell him. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

* * *

Lou nestles himself into one of the chairs in the side room, looking down into his freshly creamed and sugared coffee and shaking his head. “I shouldn’t be in here.” 

I sit down across from him. Everybody who’s going to be in right now will want drip coffee—they always do—and they can shout if they need to. “I’m glad you are because I need your help.”

That perks him up. “With what?”

“Tell me about Lisa and Fred Collins.”

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you want to know about them? Isn’t it enough that you’re putting them out of business?”

“I don’t want to put them out of business.”

“They’re two of the nicest people I’ve ever met,” Lou says fiercely, not bothering to hear what I’m saying. “They’ve bailed out everybody in this town at one time or another. They bought me a used car when mine died in the middle of the winter forty years ago when my daughter was small. I had a new gig at the cement plant up the highway and couldn’t miss—” He waves a hand, dismissing this for the main point. “You won’t meet more generous people. They’re not here right now to defend themselves from you city sharks because—” He presses his lips together. “I can’t say exactly why, but you shouldn’t be doing this.”

“That’s exactly why I need your help,” I say, trying to appeal to his best nature. “I need to talk to them.”

Lou takes a sip of the coffee, and his eyebrows go up. “This is good.”

“Thank you.” I keep it cool. It’s satisfying to hear, but that’s not the point of this conversation.

“What do you have to say to them?”

I lean in, glancing around like a cartoon character to make sure he gets the point. “I have a business proposition.”

Lou’s eyes glow. “What is it?”

I sit back straight. “I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t be right to tell someone else before—” He nods. Of course. “All I wanted to know is if you had a phone number I could reach them at.” 

He looks at me like looking is going to tell him everything he needs to know about what kind of person I am. Is he deciding I’m the monster I’ve been made out to be? Is he realizing that he’s already made a deal with the devil by buying my coffee and liking it? 

I look back.

He keeps looking.

“You’re not some kind of scammer, are you?” he asks, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. 

“I swear to you,” I say, raising my hand in the air like a boy scout. “I am not a scammer.” I do wish I could have asked Ellie for this phone number instead, but that’s not an option for the moment.

“Okay,” he says finally, and relief floods my veins. “You got a piece of paper?”