Lanterns and Lattes

Maple Glenn’s Main Street glows in the dark winter morning as Hazel Hart parks her car. Holiday lights and old-fashioned lanterns shine along the sidewalks, and as it is every morning for the past year, Cole Sutton steps out of his car just as Hazel closes hers.

She should not enjoy seeing the man who opened a coffee shop right around the corner from hers and has been stealing her customers for the past year.

She definitely shouldn't love how he waits to walk with her each morning.

But she does.

Her stomach flips just a little when he waves to her. They meet at the edge of the parking lot and walk the two blocks together.

“Cold today.” He pulls his jacket tighter.

“But gorgeous.” She watches the snow fall in spirals in the soft lantern light.

“Yeah, it’s not bad for a little town surronded by mountains and gorgeous trees with adorable little cafes and botiques.” He pauses. "I think it's giving a little too much, though. You know, being a little 'extra'. What do you think?"

She laughs. "I think you're giving a little 'extra'. It's impressive how witty you are even before 5am."

He laughs quietly as they walk up a small incline.

They’re halfway to his shop. He’ll veer left in a moment.

“I heard you liked my winter mint chocolate special.”

“It wasn’t bad,” she smiles.

“High praise coming from the best coffee slinger in town.”

Hazel rolls her eyes, and he smiles, a slow smile that makes her stomach flip again.

“Well,” they’ve paused now on the corner, “come by later today, and I”ll make you another.”

“Maybe,” she says, “But I may be busy today with Opening Ceremony.”

"I did want to talk to you— ”

Something in his voice makes her pause.

But at that moment, Mr. Hendrix walks by on his way to Hazel's cafe, Mocha Moon. Her attention is diverted.“Oh I should go." She watches Mr. Hendrix walk toward her cafe ready — she knows — for his morning latte with almond milk.

“Um, okay, but I wanted to talk to you about the Lantern —”

"Sorry," she lowers her voice, "you know how he gets without his morning latte." She waves and hurries toward Mocha Moon.

Behind her, Cole exhales slowly.

“Right,” he mutters. “Maybe later.”

Mr. Hendrix is waiting by the door and gives her a thin smile as she unlocks the door to let them both in.

“The snow is sticking,” he says, the mood shifting with the weighted comment. They both know what that means.

“It certainly is,” Hazel responds, pushing the door open and leading them both into the cozy cafe.

"Let the games begin, eh," Mr. Hendrix

"Let the games begin,” Hazel echos with a smile as she steps around the counter to make his latte.

Soon regulars are lining up for their coffee. Everyone’s in a good mood with the fresh snow outside and the holiday spirit starting to thread its way through the town.

“I’m slinging coffees and smiles,” Hazel comments to Mrs. Habernash, the town librarian, as she hands her her usual seasonal order of orange caramel latte. “Annnnd I think that’s a line I’ve never used before.”

“Must be a good day then.” Mrs. Habernash tilts the paper cup in a cheers motion with a smile.

As usual, Madi is right on time at 6am and not a moment too early. She jumps in and takes over the drive-thru.

Soon, the morning rush is over. Except for the Knitting for Kids group in their usual back corner and Madison Levi, her best employee, the cafe has emptied. She takes the time to take a breath and mentally prepare herself for opening days of the Lantern Cup.

For those that make it to the final round, like she has, it’s basically the Olympics of Maple Glenn’s food scene. Every café, restaurant, and bakery that makes the final cut competes all week long. People really get into the voting and events. Tourists and residents carry their “Lantern Notebooks” around with them making notes and judging the ten businesses that made the final cut.

No big deal. We got this.

“Madi," she turns to Madison who’s refilling the pastires under the glass dome on the counter.

"For the literay winter pastries," Madi sets the mini-chalkboard in front of them.

Wardrobe Winter Delight

Anne's Rasberry Cordial Bars

"There were zero Turkish delights left earlier."

"Excellent," Hazel says. It was the one idea she brought to Birdie's cafe when she took over, and it's still one of her favorite things to do even though it's a lot of work. "Thanks, Madi. And now you know what time it is?" Hazel practically sings.

Madi looks at Hazel, and when the realization hits, her face lights with a mischievous smile to match Hazel’s. “The time has arrived,” she sings in a mock stiletto voice. “The big day is here.”

The Knitting for Kids club ladies look up from the back corner of the coffee shop. Hazel smiles at them. “Lantern time,” she says, giving a one pump fist into the air, and all the women nod knowingly.

“You got this,” Mrs. Kit says, stirring her tea and adjusting the jeweled brooch on her lavender cardigan.

With Madi’s unwavering support, Mocha Moon had managed to submit an application at the end of summer. It meant a lot of late nights writing about the history of the cafe, submitting photos of all areas of the shop, providing proof of inspection and insurance, and catering to the board of the competition when, under the guise of dropping in for coffee, they stopped in to see if the shop could handle the large crowds the winter festival would bring. With Madi and Mateo’s help,—Mateo works weekends— they were accepted as one of only ten competitors.

It was a big deal, a huge deal, and had finally redeemed Hazel in her grandmother, Birdie, eyes. Birdie never would have said it, but Hazel knew how worried she’d been about the shop and about Hazel when she first took over and came home every day with a new disaster.

Madi stands beside the large gold lantern where it sits on the shelf all by itself. Birdie and Hazel have kept it polished these last fifteen years when Birdie had placed third. That had put Mocha Moon on the map, boosted it from almost bankrupt to state-wide recognition because Maple Glenn is built on tourism —winter tourists, summer tourists, people with vacation homes and people who wished they had them. The Lantern Cup is the town’s favorite excuse to show off.

“Go ahead,” Hazel says to Madi. They’d both slipped their coats and boots and gloves on and now were standing there staring at the giant gold lantern on a shelf by itself in the back of the shop.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“You most certainly can,” Hazel says, gesturing for Madi to take the Lantern down. “We wouldn’t be hanging that old glorious lamp if it weren’t for you and your window paintings.”

Madi does so much more than window paintings, but nobody can deny the true art of her window paintings. Just yesterday, Madi spent hours painting snowflakes glowing gold from a tiny lantern below them. It’s an amazing representation of the contest and the symbolic meaning of the joy and pride that spreads through the town during this time of year.

Madi takes the lantern down, and carefully, as if she’s carrying a crystal bowl, she walks it outside with Hazel. Hazel is grateful there’s very little wind as she lights the lantern and Madi holds it. Snow flurries around them.

When it’s lit, Madi insists Hazel take it, and so she does. Getting her footing on the stepping stool she’d grabbed, she hangs it gently—so as not to let the flame extinguish—on the hook right above their doorway. There it doesn’t look so large. It looks perfectly proportioned and creates a cozy glow around the doorway.

“It’s beautiful,” Madi practically whispers as Hazel steps down and admires it.

“It really is.”

They stand there for a moment, snow circling and settling on their hair and shoulders. It’s a moment they’ve both been waiting for for a long time.

When they turn to walk back inside, Hazel glances down the street out of habit, checking Cole’s shop.

“What the—”

She takes a few steps toward the street and squints.

It can’t be.

“Madi,” she turns to look at Madi.

Madi’s got her hand on the doorhandle. “C’mon, Hazel, let’s just go back in. It’s freezing.”

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is.” He said he had no plans to enter. She remembers that exact summer morning because they stood on the corner talking for five minutes. It was one of the first times she let her guard down around him since he’d opened a shop around the corner.

“Wha-” but whatever Madi was going to say is cut off when the green door of Black Pine Coffee opens.

Cole Sutton steps out of Black Pine Coffee. He reaches up and adjusts the lantern hanging above his door, the one just like hers.

“I’m going to be sick,” Hazel whispers.

He sees her watching him, and for a moment, they simply stand there looking at one another. Then he lifts a hand and waves casually.

“Looks like we’re competitors,” he says, looking like he’s not sure whether to smile or apologize.

For Hazel, everything turns heavy, the cold, her feet, even the snowflakes feel heavy and blinding when moments ago they’d created a magical winter wonderland.

She turns to Madi, “But, no, he said he didn’t plan on entering.”

Madi says nothing but remains standing by the door shivering.

“He can’t, right, Madi? You read the rules five million times with me. How can a cafe that’s only been open for one year earn a spot in the competition?” She hadn’t counted on competing against another coffee shop. That makes things so much more difficult.

But to Hazel’s horror, Madi simply shakes her head. And then Cole waves at Madi, and Hazel sees— as if in slow motion—Madi waving back, like they’re friends or something.

“I’m so sorry, Hazel. I was going to tell you,” Madi stammers letting her arm fall back by her side. “I just didn’t know how. I. . .I took some shifts with him, with Black Pine Coffee, in October. I’m so sorry. I needed the money and he offered. I’m so sorry.”

She won’t stop apologizing, and Cole is staring. All Hazel wants to do is slink back into the warm cafe. This morning was supposed to be like lighting the Olympic Torch for her. But now Cole Sutton has stolen the flame.

She stares at him with his stupid, cut jawline, and he nods at her in the way that they’ve been doing for months that says, We’re competing coffee shops, but we can be professionals about it, maybe even more.

When he had the nerve to open Black Pine, she’d taken the higher road and introduced herself. She’d been waving and nodding and trying to be neighborly, but this is too far. He should have bowed out. She’s spent a year imagining how the Lantern Cup will do so many things for their coffee shop. Fine. If this is how he wants it, no more playing nice.

Professionalism officially cancelled.

She turns away from him and pulls Madi back into the shop.

Interrupting Madi’s stream of apologies, she says, “It’s okay, Madi. It’s okay. I get it”

Madi shakes her head, her cheeks flushed from the snow or shame. Hazel is not sure which.

“I needed the money.”

“I know. Don’t worry.” Hazel exhales slowly. Of course she did. Everyone in Maple Glenn always does when winter settles in.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.