The Solid Grounds Coffee Company

by Carla Laureano

  As if most women weren’t a conundrum as it was, Ana had to go and be unlike any other woman he’d met. He wished Adrian luck; he’d need it.

  In midday surface traffic, it didn’t take long to reach Platt Park, where Rachel and Melody’s bakery was located, but it took almost as long to find parking on the intersecting streets. “We might need to wait for a table,” Ana said. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course.” He hopped out of the SUV and waited for her to join him on the sidewalk as they walked toward Bittersweet. Sure enough, the line at the counter was just starting to burst out the door when they arrived.

  “Didn’t take long,” he said, gesturing to the crowd. “The food’s amazing, though.”

  “And the press has been good.” Ana threw him a mischievous look. “Never underestimate the value of a good publicist.”

  “You did this?”

  “No, they did this. I just helped get the word out. Call it a personal project.”

  He had a sudden feeling she’d done far more than she was letting on. “So Solid Grounds will benefit from the Analyn Sanchez special treatment?”

  “Well, if your beans are any good, I know your first customer.” She gestured to the counter, where the barista was pulling a shot for a coffee drink. “They’ve gone through three coffee suppliers since they opened. The one they’re using now is good, but not locally roasted, so I know Rachel will be open to trying you out. And if it’s successful, that means point-of-purchase bean sales.”

  The line crept forward and Ana continued. “There’s also a handful of restaurants I’ve done publicity for that might be interested in featuring your coffee. And I do mean featuring. Like I said, local is a big deal around here.”

  Bryan looked down at his T-shirt, which bore a version of the Colorado state flag on the front, and grinned.

  “Exactly. You’d never see Californians wearing their state flag on their chest. Only tourists.”

  “That’s because everyone in California is from somewhere else,” he said. “Coloradoans are rightly proud of our state.”

  They finally reached the counter and placed their order. Bryan opened his wallet, but Ana waved him off. “My treat. Consider it part of my advisory duties. It’s a business lunch.”

  He considered arguing, but she looked determined, and a determined Ana always got what she wanted. He replaced it in his pocket and said, “Only if I buy next time.”

  “Deal,” she said. “Grab the table tag?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  They found two spots at the long counter-height table at the back, wedged in between some other business-lunchers, and Ana vanished into the kitchen without a word. Probably to tell Rachel and Melody they were there. Then she came back and plopped on her seat. “Melody said she’d come out in a bit. I might have also told them our table number.”

  “Special treatment, huh?”

  Ana shrugged, but she was smiling that mysterious smile again. What was she thinking when she did that? It was as if she was perpetually amused by how she massaged the system. The way she could work a room was a thing of beauty; she’d definitely gone for the throat with Adrian. But she hadn’t seemed nearly as pleased with herself last night. Why?

  Their food only took a few minutes to come out, either a result of Rachel’s extreme efficiency or the little nudge Ana had given when she disappeared back there. Either way, it looked delicious. Ana had ordered a spring salad that was chock-full of nuts and berries; Bryan had opted for the grilled tuna on olive bread, one of the house specialties. Fortunately, the food negated the necessity of speaking, and therefore wondering about subtext. Just as they were finishing, Melody appeared and plopped herself down on the recently vacated seat beside Ana.

  Ana pressed her into a warm hug and brushed a smear of flour off Melody’s cheek.

  The baker laughed and smiled across the table at Bryan. “Hi there. Ana didn’t tell me you were here too.” She looked back at Ana with a lifted eyebrow.

  Ana didn’t even seem to notice. “We have something to ask you.”

  “Shoot. I only have a couple of minutes, though. Talia’s covering for me, but we’re slammed today. Every day, actually.”

  “That’s great.” Bryan glanced at Ana, who made a gesture that looked something like hurry up. “I showed Ana the roastery today. All the structural stuff is coming along, but I have no idea what to do with the cupping room and the front office. I was hoping you might be willing to use your design genius on my behalf.”

  “Design genius, huh? I like the sound of that.” Melody grinned. “I need photos, though. I’m totally visual. If I can see what we’re working with, I can start putting together some ideas for you. And I need the measurements, of course.”

  “I can actually help with that.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and found the photos he’d taken when he was with Alex, then texted them to Melody. “And I’ll email you the measurements later.”

  “Sounds good. I’m happy to help.” She hopped off the chair and gave Ana one more hug before sending a significant look between them. “I’ll see you tonight. I want to hear how everything is going.”

  “Sure thing.” Ana appeared completely unperturbed by what Melody seemed to be insinuating. As soon as Melody was gone, she shot him a satisfied smile. “She was an easy sell.”

  “Melody’s probably the most generous person I’ve ever met,” Bryan said. “When you talk to her, please make sure she understands I’m paying her for her work.”

  “And she’ll likely refuse it. But I’ll tell her.” Ana gathered her plate and her paper napkins, then slid off her seat. “Ready to go?”

  “If you are.” They tossed their trash, set their plates in the tubs near the trash cans, and emerged back onto the street. Whatever closeness he thought he’d imagined earlier was gone; she was all business.

  Ana slid on her sunglasses. “You want me to drop you back at the space?”

  “Please. We never did talk about the presentation, though. You free for dinner one of these nights?”

  She sent him a look.

  “I just thought dinner would be more convenient. I’m going to be working at the construction site until it’s done, trying to save a little money on labor. There’s that noodle shop on Seventeenth. They don’t mind if you bring in your laptop and work while you eat.”

  “Oh.” She pulled out her planner and checked her calendar quickly. “How about tomorrow night? That still gives us three days to polish before we meet with him on Tuesday.”

  “Works for me. Pick you up?”

  “No, I’ll meet you there. Seven?”

  He nodded. “Sounds good to me. Thanks again, Ana. I do appreciate it.”

  “I know,” she said lightly, then unlocked her car door and climbed in, clearly the end of the conversation.

  Chapter Eleven

  “YOU’RE GOING OUT WITH HIM AGAIN?”

  Ana paused in her coffee-pouring to look at Melody. “No, I’m having a business dinner with him. That doesn’t constitute going out.”

  “Who’s paying?” Rachel asked, pulling a carton of vanilla ice cream from her old avocado-green freezer. At long last, they’d managed to put together a nonemergency girls’ night at Rachel’s house that they could all attend. Odd that now Ana was the one with the wide-open schedule and Rachel and Melody were the ones who had to squeeze her in.

  “What’s the deal with this arrangement anyway?” Melody took the ice cream from Rachel and began scooping little football-shaped dollops on top of the turtle brownies she’d made at the bakery for this very reason.

  Ana finished pouring the coffee from the French press into three mugs and fixed them with varying degrees of cream and sugar, her own staying black. “Basically, I’m a business advisor. If we get this investment, we’ll determine the valuation of the business and I’ll get my equity share.”

  “So you’re working for nothing unless he makes money,” Melody said.

  “I’m still getting paid
at a job I’m not doing. I don’t need another paycheck right now. Besides, he’s a friend. It’s not like I left you guys in the lurch when you opened Bittersweet or anything.”

  “No one’s saying you did.” Rachel handed the completed sundae to Ana, then took one for herself along with her cup of coffee. “Living room?”

  “You guys didn’t need as much help. Bryan’s on a time crunch and a shoestring budget. But he’s got a good story for marketing, and if the product is good, I think it could be successful.” Ana took a spot in the lone armchair in Rachel’s living room, positioning herself opposite the green velvet sofa and curling her bare feet up beneath her. “Besides, it gives me something to do.”

  “I knew you were missing work,” Rachel said, settling on one end of the sofa. “How long exactly did you take off from doing anything work related?”

  Ana frowned. “I don’t know. A week maybe?”

  Rachel held out her hand to Melody. “You owe me five bucks.”

  Melody sighed. “You’re seriously going to collect on that?”

  “Collect on what?” Ana looked between the two of them suspiciously.

  “I bet Melody that you wouldn’t last more than a week before you found some sort of job or side hustle to keep you busy. Sitting still isn’t your strong suit.”

  “I don’t know whether to be mad or to demand a cut,” Ana said.

  “Neither.” Melody rummaged in her purse before coming up with a five-dollar bill, which she handed off to Rachel. “It’s just the way you are. You hate being idle. But seriously . . . Bryan?”

  “I know.” Ana took a sip of her coffee. “I actually feel bad for underestimating him. Did you know he graduated magna cum laude with his business degree? Underneath all that Colorado casual is some brains. And honestly, I think he’s a lot more thoughtful than I’ve given him credit for.”

  Melody and Rachel exchanged a glance.

  Ana sighed. “Okay, enough with these meaningful glances. Just say what you want to say.”

  Another glance before Rachel realized what they were doing and grimaced. “Bryan has been interested in you romantically from the moment he saw you. Are you sure he’s not just taking this as an opportunity to get close to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter if he is or not, because I’m not interested in him that way.” Ana sipped her coffee, then realized her friends were staring at her. “What? I’m not.”

  “Feeling a little warm over there, liar?” Melody asked. “Because from where I’m sitting, your pants are on fire.”

  Ana sighed. “Fine. I’m attracted to him. I always have been. But it’s a just a chemical thing. We can’t control who gives us butterflies, but we can control our own stupid decisions. And he is most definitely not suitable for more than friendship or a business relationship.”

  “He gives her butterflies,” Rachel said flatly to Melody, and they both looked at Ana with raised eyebrows.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Ana uncrossed her legs and jumped up from her seat, almost upsetting her sundae. “If you’re just going to jab me about Bryan all night, I might as well leave.”

  “No, don’t do that, Ana.” Melody managed to sound a little contrite. “We’ll lay off. We just find your choice of entertainment on your time off a bit . . . interesting.”

  Ana paused and then sat back down, regretting her emotional outburst. She wasn’t usually that touchy, but to be fair, it had been a pretty trying couple of weeks. “The thing is, guys, I think this business could be really exciting. I know there are some local roasters who are already getting beans from repurposed coca plantations, but to build a business completely from fair-trade, organic, redeemed farms . . . that’s something I can sell.” Come to think of it, there was a lot more they could do with the socially conscious angle than just the coca-to-coffee thing. She pulled up her phone and tapped a few ideas into her notes app. “If I could get Kenneth Lazarus on board . . .”

  “Who’s Kenneth Lazarus?” Melody asked at the same time Rachel said, “Oh, I love him!”

  “Recently retired Rockies pitcher,” Ana explained. “I didn’t know you liked baseball, Rachel.”

  “Alex does. We watched the entire last season together. We’re talking about getting season tickets one of these days. Turns out when I have time for sports, I actually kind of like them.”

  “Traitor,” Melody said, and Rachel and Ana laughed. Melody’s idea of sports was reading about lawn tennis or croquet in her extensive collection of classic novels.

  “What about him, Ana?” Rachel asked.

  “Well, he has that whole foundation teaching baseball to inner-city kids to keep them away from drugs. If we could do some sort of benefit, with Solid Grounds providing the coffee, it would be great publicity. The tie-in makes so much sense.”

  “That’s the name of the company? Solid Grounds?” Rachel turned it over for a moment. “I love that. It fits so well.”

  In more ways than one. Bryan really seemed dedicated to the venture, determined to build something steady and lasting. She wouldn’t be surprised if it had taken on a new layer of meaning for him as well.

  “Anyway, this all hinges on us getting the funding, buying the equipment, and roasting the beans. I’ve done a little research, and it sounds like there are a lot of elements that go into making coffee good or not. The bean quality has a lot to do with it, but so does the skill of the roaster. You can make up for lower-grade beans, depending on the faults, if you’re a good roaster, but even great beans won’t meet their full potential if you don’t know how to treat them.”

  “And you think Bryan has that level of skill?” Melody asked, a tinge of skepticism in her voice.

  Ana quashed down a sudden swell of defensiveness. “I honestly have no idea. I hope so, or this whole thing is going to be a bust. I looked up the guy he learned from in Oregon and he’s pretty much regarded as the father of the third-wave coffee movement, so I’d like to believe that Bryan knows what he’s doing.”

  “Well, I should have some design ideas for him in two weeks,” Melody said. “I just need the dimensions of the space so I can draw it out. Speaking of . . . What did you think about the sketches I sent you last night, Rachel?”

  “I got busy with the deliveries and totally forgot to tell you. They’re amazing. Ana, did you see these?” Rachel pulled out her phone and brought up her photo gallery, then passed it to Ana.

  “These are for the farm?” Ana scrolled through the sketches. Melody’s vision was beautiful and magical, and yet they still had the stripped-down industrial vibe that Ana had come to associate with Rachel’s minimalist taste. Rustic wooden tables, old-fashioned metal folding chairs, earthenware place settings with a mix of textures and colors. “It’s like supper club, wedding edition!”

  Rachel laughed. “I never thought of it that way, but that’s exactly right. I love it.”

  “These are fantastic, Mel,” Ana said softly, feeling a pang at the realization that once again, she hadn’t been included. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I’ve already ordered the rentals for the tables and chairs,” Melody said. “If you can just help me with the coordination of the rest of the decor, I think we’ll be good. Rachel has the food thing in hand.”

  “Caleb Sutter agreed to cater,” Rachel said.

  “No! Seriously?” Caleb Sutter was perhaps the hottest chef in Denver—a spot that would rightly be Rachel’s had she not decided to step out of the fine dining space in favor of Bittersweet—and currently had two of the most celebrated restaurants in the city. He’d also been one of the chefs who had abandoned her in her hour of need, not wanting to hitch his own career to hers.

  Rachel nodded slowly. “He’s had this farm concept in the works for a while, and with the success of the Saturday Night Supper Club, he wants to start his own down at his farm. My wedding is going to be something of a proof of concept for him. I gave him free rein, of course . . .”

  “Of course.” Ana shook her head. “This is
going to be amazing, Rachel. The event of the year.”

  “Even better, I got my dress back from the seamstress today. Do you want to see the finished version? The sample you saw doesn’t really do it justice.”

  Melody and Ana stared at her. “Um, yes,” they said in unison.

  Rachel laughed. “Stay here. I’ll bring it out.”

  As soon as she left the room, Ana looked at Melody and said, “I can’t believe she didn’t lead with that. It’s all about the dress.”

  “Not for Rachel. It’s all about the food and the place settings. I had to remind her that you couldn’t buy a wedding dress off the rack.”

  “Well, you could, but you shouldn’t. What’s taking her so long? I thought she was just bringing it out.”

  Rachel appeared in the doorway then, and they gasped. She wasn’t carrying the dress, but wearing it, a simple confection of draped white silk muslin with a deep-V halter.

  Ana rose to her feet. “Rachel, that’s stunning.”

  “I never expected to go for couture, but I couldn’t help myself with this one.” She gave a little twirl, showing that the halter straps crisscrossed over the back and then tied in front again as a belt. “And look, it has pockets!”

  “Hallelujah,” Melody said. “A designer finally figured out that brides need pockets.” She pressed her hands to her mouth, tears forming in her eyes.

  “Oh, Mel, don’t cry.” Rachel rushed to her and put her arms around her. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

  “You didn’t!” Melody squeezed her and then backed away. “You’re just such a beautiful bride.”

  Rachel sank down onto the sofa, just inches from where Melody had left her chocolate-covered dessert. Ana cringed and swooped it out of the way before it had a chance to tip. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  “Of course,” Melody said brightly. “And now I know how I’m going to tweak the design of the place settings to match the dress. It’s going to be beautiful.”