The Spring Blend

The bell above the Camp 4 Coffee door jingle-jangled at exactly 5:41 a.m., the same time it always did when Mr. Davis pushed through, newspaper tucked under one arm.

Caitlin Camp stood behind the counter, ready with his black coffee, apron lightly dusted with espresso powder and flour from putting out the morning’s lemon sugar cookies. Cait watched the machine warm up; she still missed Nonna’s ancient La Marzocco sometimes, but this one purred like a content beast instead of screeching. And she hadn't suffered a steam burn yet. Major progress.

The door swung open again. Jingle-jangle.

Nicole Cline stepped inside, cheeks pink from the early April chill, dark hair still sleep-tousled under a soft gray beanie. She carried two small paper bags from the bakery down the block, a pain au chocolat for Cait and a blueberry scone for herself. Her gray-blue eyes found Cait immediately, the way they always did now.

“Good morning, lovely,” Nic said, crossing to the counter and setting down the bags. "Or should I say, lovely co-owner."

Cait felt warmth take over at those words. Co-owner still sounded surreal, even after three months of paperwork and meetings with their lawyer, Jonathan. They’d finally signed the last document yesterday.

“And here I thought you’d sleep in after all the excitement of...everything,” Cait replied.

“Well I tried.” Nic leaned her elbows on the pickup counter, watching Cait tamp the grounds with focused precision. “You know how I am with sleeping in though, it hardly ever happens."

Cait glanced around the shop at the mismatched chairs, the community board bursting with various flyers, some for the spring poetry slam, the wildflower hike, and Ryan’s band’s next gig at the Eldo. The framed certificate from their Holiday Blend win hung above the espresso machine, though they’d already started brainstorming their next seasonal drink.

“Can you believe this is actually all ours now?” Cait's smile took over, a smile that still made Nic's stomach flip. Nic laughed and pushed one of the paper bags from the bakery toward Cait.

“I brought a special something to commemorate the occasion of our first day together as official co-owners.”

Cait opened the bag, inhaling the scent of pain au chocolat, and felt something loosen in her shoulders. “Are you trying to butter me up with carbs and chocolate?"

“Why, is it working?”

For a brief moment, they stood smiling at each other, the shop quiet except for the soft hiss of the machine and the distant clatter of Ryan banging around in the back, arguing with the new dishwasher.

The first real sunlight slanted through the windows, catching on the new green tips of the aspens across Elk Avenue. Nic took a sip of her fresh Americano, eyes fluttering shut the way they always did when the espresso hit just right. When she opened them, Cait was waiting.

Cait raised an eyebrow. “How is it?"

Nic set the cup down, then leaned in until only a few inches of counter remained between them. “You already know it's the best in town. So... about the new drink. We need to name it and start advertising soon. And I’m vetoing anything with the word ‘bloom’ or 'blossom' in it.”

Cait laughed, startled. “You can’t just veto things, we’re equal partners now.”

“I absolutely can if it’s terrible. And I refuse to suffer through ‘Mountain Bloom Bliss Blossom’ or whatever floral monstrosity these drinks are usually called."

“Well, a name with 'bloom' in it is on theme.”

“It’s too predictable.”

“Oh, like ‘The Holiday Blend’ wasn’t?”

“That’s exactly my point! We got away with it once. We can’t be that straightforward again.”

“Well, why the hell not?”

Mr. Davis piped up from the back. "How about you call the drink the Quiet Time!?"

They were both laughing now, Cait wiping down the steam wand and loading up another espresso shot for herself.

The bell jingled. Mr. and Mrs. Hargrove shuffled in together, him with his newspaper, her with a well-worn NYT crossword book. They’d been coming here since Cait was a toddler and had known her mother and Nonna, and now they knew her as an adult and new co-owner.

“Morning ladies,” Mrs. Hargrove said, eyes twinkling behind her glasses. “So you two made it official yesterday? I heard you both own the shop now?"

Cait felt heat climb her neck. “It doesn’t take much to get this town talking.”

Mrs. Hargrove accepted her coffee with a splash of half-and-half, one sugar, and beamed at them. “Well congratulations ladies. I’m so glad Mr. Hargrove and I get to keep coming here until we croak!”

Mr. Hargrove dropped exact change on the counter for his wife's coffee and they shuffled over to their corner booth.

Nic turned back to Cait and shot her a look that said, old people say the damndest things while barely suppressing a laugh.

The moment was interrupted by the violent jangle of the bell as the door flew open.

Macy came bursting through, still wearing her pajama pants under her purple puffer jacket, hair in a messy bun, phone clutched in one hand.

“Oh my god, my GOD,” she exclaimed, eyes huge. “You two have got to see this right now.”

Cait straightened, immediately on alert. “Macy, what on earth?”

“Just posted fifteen minutes ago.” Macy thrust her phone at them, nearly dropping it. “It’s already got over two hundred likes.”

Cait leaned in, and Nic felt her whole body stiffen.

On the screen was a glossy promotional image: a rendering of Elk Avenue was completely transformed with a new building. Across the street from where Camp 4 Coffee currently stood was now a sleek, modern building with floor-to-ceiling windows and the words: “CLINE COLLECTIVE: Artisanal Coffee + CBD & Co-Working Space” in minimalist sans-serif font.

The caption read:

Coming Summer 2027: Clinton Cline Sr. announces the expansion of Cline Development’s Colorado portfolio with the Crested Butte Collective, bringing urban sophistication to mountain living.

Nic’s hands were trembling slightly as she zoomed in on the image. “What the fuck? How did he even get the city to clear this!?”