If I thought I’d thrown myself into the new shop on Sunday, it was nothing compared to Monday.

My heart beat out of my chest all day once I saw that sign. I didn’t know what it meant until the second morning rush came around...and there was no rush. Only a bunch of people pressing their faces up to the glass, peering in, and walking away.

Of course, my mind went to the worst possibility. Something happened to Ellie. I made an ass of myself, trying to get her to come visit me, and now my shot is gone.

I can’t be the crazy man asking everyone in sight where she lives, so I hold back, channeling all that energy into the finishing touches on the shop. 

There’s a storage unit in Lakewood Storage full of furniture and other decor, including the big sign that’ll hang behind the counter with my sleek new logo on it. That’s one of the first things I have Martin hang on Monday afternoon once I’ve exhausted all the other available projects. The sign is a two-man job.

“Nice!” he says when he sees it. In five minutes, he’s brought in a pair of ladders from his truck and a toolbox as big as the new espresso machine that’ll arrive sometime tomorrow. Between the two of us, it takes twenty minutes to get it secured to the wall in the right spot.

Anxiety aside, it feels fucking satisfying to see it hanging there. Martin and I stand in the middle of the shop, checking it out.

“The Coffee Spot,” he reads out loud, then laughs. “That’s clever.”

“I thought so too.”

He helps me get a few other things moved in and heads out to another job. “You’ve got my number!” he calls over his shoulder as he goes.

I give the sign a long second look.

Is it too much? I paid someone to design it. It’ll be easy enough to franchise but it’s not too corporate, and I’m damn proud of it. But now, facing off with Medium Roast’s weathered wooden sign that looks like it was hand-cut, it seems pushy. 

Why is it that thinking of Ellery always makes me want to quit this and start over?

No. It’s not too much. People are going to love it. And even if they don’t love it, they’ll get used to it.

By the time I have everything in place, I’ve only got ten minutes to spare before I need to pick up Rosie. I spend one of them standing in the alley, looking across at Medium Roast. My chest goes tight. I’m dying to know what the sign says, and this is my big chance. She’s clearly not in there. It’s closed up tight.

I wait for a gap in the traffic and jog across, my stomach in knots. What if it’s permanently closed? What if she abandoned ship because I told her I was opening another shop? What if she’s gone forever? 

Jesus, I’ll have to give this up, then, because it’ll take all my time to find her again.

I go right up to the door. The sign is folded in half, the last piece of tape barely hanging on. I yank it off and flatten it in my hands.

In permanent marker it reads: We are closed this Monday. Back on Tuesday at 8:30. Count on it!

If that’s not for me, then my name isn’t Dash Huxley.

Back at my car, I discover that I’m still holding the sign in my hands like a talisman, and I can’t wipe the smile off of my face.

She left me a note.

* * *

Tuesday morning, I drop Rosie off bright and early.

Today is the biggest day I’ve had since Serena left. That was a day.

I don’t like to think about it.

By seven, I’m standing inside The Coffee Spot, pulling down the butcher paper I taped over the windows. Martin pulled all the plywood down yesterday, revealing the gleaming exterior. It gleams exactly as much as bricks can gleam with a few fresh coats of white paint on them, covering up a disgusting brown shade that someone thought was all the rage.

The last thing I put up is the banner.

It’s huge, neon, unmissable. Up at the top, it has The Coffee Spot’s logo. Then, below that, it says GRAND OPENING THIS FRIDAY. 

Yes, I had to make a couple of assumptions when I had the sign printed, but it turns out Friday is as good a day as any to have a grand opening.

Once the banner is in the window, I put up a smaller sign in the corner of the largest pane of glass: HELP WANTED. I can run this place on my own if I need to, but I’ve seen the situation Ellery’s in. Not interested.

It’s eight o’clock exactly when I see her hair flash in the sun on the other side of the street.

She looks refreshed. Perky, even. Her ponytail bounces as she walks, but she keeps her eyes on the sidewalk in front of her.

Right up until she’s about to go inside. She turns, looking over her shoulder. Then she does a double take.

Her expression is unreadable.

Back in the shadows of The Coffee Spot, I know she can’t see me, but a thrill runs down my spine anyway. We’re not on good terms. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. But I know that note was for me. I’m willing to answer.

I’ll give her a minute, though. She’s got to get things ready for a late opening. Three shops down, I see people swiveling their heads toward Medium Roast. One of them, the ancient man who’s hard of hearing, points with his cane. 

I wait to see what he’ll do.

As I predicted, they make their way to the sidewalk in front of Medium Roast. These people have been waiting. They want their morning coffee, and they wanted it two hours ago when the store usually opens. So they’re going to hover right outside.

And what is there to look at?

My store.

I see them notice the banner.

I see them reading it.

The old man raises his hands to his mouth.

I hear the word from all the way inside the shop.

It’s a long, sustained boooooo.