“Welcome to The Bluebell. I’ll be with you in a second.” A tall, fair-haired woman in a blue checkered apron waved a hand toward the door as Amelia came through. The small café was a little dark since the window blinds were pulled down. With its blank walls and lack of decoration, the place gave the impression of a home that hadn’t been fully moved into yet. It was somewhere you might get your coffee to-go, but you wouldn’t want to linger long. Plastic chairs were arranged in intimate groupings around metal tables, where locals could talk and laugh as they sipped their drinks. But today, there weren’t any customers in.

  Amelia breathed in the bittersweet aroma of caramel and coffee. It felt like coming home to take in the familiar smell, the soft yellow lighting, and the clink of ceramic cups. Maybe everything else about this little town was different from where she’d come from, but a coffee shop often had a familiar, cozy feeling to it.

  As she waited at the worn wood counter, her phone buzzed. The name Erik appeared on the display. She shoved it back into her pocket after ignoring the call. Erick had tried to call her three times in the last hour.

  She was perfectly content to let him wait forever for her reply. After all, she’d been left hanging the day of the move when he disappeared without a trace and couldn’t be reached. She didn’t owe him anything but a taste of his own medicine. She just wished she could get the taste of it out of her own mouth and move on more quickly.

  “What can I get you?” The woman at the counter wiped her hands with a red towel and stood behind the cash register.

  “Café americano,” Amelia said.

  The woman took Amelia’s payment and was about to turn around when Amelia got up the nerve to ask about employment.

  “Are you hiring right now? I’m an experienced hospitality professional. I can help serve or cook or clean. Whatever you need.”

  “We’re not really hiring right now, I’m afraid. Are you new in town?” She turned and started making Amelia’s drink as they continued to talk.

  Amelia waited for a hiss of steam to subside before she went on.

  “My name’s Amelia Ruiz. My friend Gianna might have mentioned me?” The words came out in a rush, sounding clumsy even though she’d practiced her pitch in the mirror. Instead of the cool air of capability she’d hoped to emit, she felt desperation coming off her in waves.

  The woman let out a low whistle and raised her pale eyebrows. She frowned as she polished the already clean counter with the red towel. “You’re the one Gianna told me about, huh?”

  “Yes, that’s me!” Amelia said hopefully.

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  “I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I would love to help you out, especially since Gianna told me about how you fell on hard times.” She clicked her tongue and looked out at the empty shop floor.

  “But business isn’t good right now. There’s barely enough for me to do around here, let alone to keep another employee busy. I used to have a few high school girls who helped me out on a rotation, but I’ve even let them go. Even if I hired you, I’m afraid it wouldn’t keep you going much longer. I’m starting to accept that I may have to close the place down and find a new job myself pretty soon. My mother tried to warn me that owning a business wasn’t easy.”

  Wiping her sweaty palms on her ripped jeans, Amelia nodded. “I understand. But is there anything at all you can offer me? Just a few hours? I’ll take anything, even if it’s temporary.” She fought to keep the panic out of her voice and hated that she was begging this stranger for a job, but the only employment alternatives in this town were a gas station, a general store, and the bar. None of which interested her in the slightest.

  “I can give you part-time hours,” the woman sighed. “For as long as we keep our doors open, which might not be long at this rate. No more than twenty hours, and maybe not always that.” She shrugged. “It’s all I can offer, and even that is only because I know Gianna loves you and I would hate to let her down.”

  Amelia felt a jolt of hope rush through her body. Her insides felt like they had been worked around in the milk frother.

  “Thank you so much for the opportunity. You won’t regret this!” Amelia said.

  The woman shook her head and sighed, but she wore a crooked little smile. “I’m not really doing you a favor inviting you onto a sinking ship. But anyway, I’m glad to have you, Amelia. I’m Bell Banks.”

  “Aww,” Amelia said. “You’re the bluebell that the shop is named after?”

  “Yes,” Bell said with a thoughtful tilt of her head. “My dad used to call me Bluebell all the time before he died. We were supposed to open this place together, but cancer claimed him before he could ever see it open.” Bell’s gray eyes filled with emotion. “But at least he doesn’t have to see it fail, either.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Amelia said. She wrapped her arms around herself. “This place must mean a lot to you.”

  Bell cleared her throat and swiped at her eyes with the edge of her apron. “It means everything to me,” she said firmly. “But oh, well. It was fun while it lasted.”

  A determined gleam entered Amelia’s eyes. “I’ll try to help you,” she said.

  “What can you do?” Bell said, her eyes doubtful.

  “A lot, actually,” Amelia replied. She started to pace in front of the counter with her finger on her lips. Her eyes darted around the coffee shop, taking it all in. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now because I’m here begging for a few measly hours, but I know a bit about business.”

  Excited thoughts flurried in Amelia’s mind as she considered the possibilities, her eyes roving over the empty shop floor.

  “Before I moved here, I was in school for my bachelor’s degree in business administration. I only had a few classes left. But I know a lot about marketing, finances, and even some tax stuff. I can help you make a new business plan.”

  She turned back to meet Bell’s gaze. “I can work here part-time, and I promise that every second I’m not busy in the shop I’ll be working on a plan to save this place.”

  A soft smile came to Bell’s face, but she turned away and worked on finishing Amelia’s drink. “There’s no harm in trying, Amelia, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” When she was finished, she carried the steaming drink over in the white porcelain mug. “Why do you care so much anyway?”

  “Because,” Amelia said, clasping her hands in prayer under her chin, “I really don’t want to work at the liquor store.”