The Barista

In the heart of every city there's a place where life unfolds, a place where people gather both for business and for pleasure; that place is the local coffee shop. Here in Sweet Valley, Virginia it's no different. People come in to get their daily dose of caffeine or a sweet treat here at Great Grinds coffee shop at all hours of the day and night. How do I know? Well, I'm the manager of Great Grinds and your friendly local barista, Abbi Flowers!

"Good morning Mr. Tillman, what can I get for you today? Your regular black coffee and a bear claw?" I smiled brightly at the 85 year old balding man in front of me. Mr. Tillman is what you would call, a regular. He and his wife used to come in every morning before work to enjoy a pastry and coffee together. Its's been about three years now since sweet Mrs. Tillman passed away, but still Mr. Tillman comes in every day.

"Yes please, Abbi" He answered, returning my smile with teeth he was proud to say were still his own.

"That'll be..." I started,

"Six dollars and twenty-five cents" He said finishing my thought and pulling out his wallet along with a small black book that he set on the counter while he fished out his money. Mr. Tillman always paid in exact change. I swore he must have a mountain of quarters at home. He paid me and wandered over to his normal table in front of one of the big picture windows that lined the front of the shop. I set about getting his coffee and bear claw and brought them over to the table. Being that it was early, only 6 am, and not yet busy, I was going to sit and chat with the older gentleman, but the bell over the door dinged as another customer entered the shop.

"Enjoy, Mr. T!" I chirped running back behind the counter. I never did get the chance to chat with old Mr. Tillman that morning, or ever again, actually. After leaving him at his table to enjoy his refreshments, a steady stream of customers began filtering into the shop. It was only at the end of my shift as I was wiping up the counter, that I discovered the little black notebook that Mr. Tillman had left on the counter. I picked it up and tucked it into my apron pocket, thinking, I would return it to him in the morning when he came in. Unfortunately, that never happened.

As six am came and went the following morning, there was no Mr. T and although it was strange, I excused it away by musing that perhaps the late fall frost we had last night kept him home. He was an elderly man after all. Coffee shops are gathering places though and as people filled the fifteen or so tables we had in the shop, I couldn't help but overhear the conversations of the patrons.

"Did you hear that Mr. Tillman passed away last night?" questioned a forty-something woman with short black hair and glasses in a hushed voice.

"Isn't it so sad?" Remarked her companion, a similarly aged woman with long dishwater blonde hair. "Even more so, being that he had no family to speak of after his wife's passing." Her eyes stared blankly into her coffee mug as if it contained the answers to life's unanswerable questions. No answers came.

Hearing this I was in shock. I instinctively tapped the notebook in my pocket, not knowing what to do with it now. Was it true? Was it idol gossip? However, as the day wore on several more people were discussing the sad news of his loss and I had an answer to my question. Yes, it was true. My most faithful customer over the last 10 years that I've managed Great Grinds had passed away. No longer would I be regaled by the stories of he and his wife, high school sweethearts who married at the young age of nineteen. Never again would I hear about how they traveled for years and then settled in Sweet Valley to start the family that never came. How because they were unable to have their own children, they invested in every local kid's lemonade stand, class fundraiser, and Mrs. Tillman even volunteered at the elementary school making costumes for the theater programs. Tears welled up in my eyes, as I took the notebook out of my pocket and haphazardly flipped it open. I looked down at the page, expecting perhaps to see a grocery list, a note of reminder to send out a letter, or pay a bill. What I was not expecting, was to see my own name!

It was a letter, a letter addressed to me. it read:

Dearest Abbi Flowers,

You have graced me each morning with a smile, a kind word and a cup of hot coffee. After the passing of my dearest Elaine, seeing your face every day brought me so much joy. I know that my time on this earth is fast approaching as several months ago I was given a terminal diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. I lived a good life, Abbi, and I would love the same for you. You are kind, responsible and faithful. You work hard and your hard work and dedication has not gone unnoticed. Being that I am without any family, I want to leave you what little I have, ownership of this coffee shop and a modest $20,000 dollars. Although I am sure it will be a great shock to you to learn that I owned Great Grinds and ran it from a distance, I have no doubts that I am leaving it in capable hands. May you continue to grow Great Grinds into a legacy you can someday pass down. You can contact my attorney Mr. Lois Tremble Esquire to finalize all of this at...

I lifted my eyes from the paper and looked around. I looked back down and reread the letter at least three times. I was not imagining this, right? Hands shaking I flipped the little black notebook closed and slid it back into my pocket. I would call the lawyer later, I was still processing it all. I was now the owner of Great Grinds coffee shop. I also had $20, 000 dollars . I smiled to myself thinking back on Mr. Tillman, all the time we had spent together right here in this coffee shop, and how by simply showing him kindness while doing my job, I received so much more in return. $20, 000 dollars to be exact, and that was definitely, a very large mountain of quarters.