Page 14 of Steeped In Problems (Badges & Baristas #3)

Call three: Zach Turner. He answered with, “What’s up, Kristy?”

“Operation Save the Badge is a go,” she stated in a conspiracy-laden tone. “Can you make it to the BB at seven tonight?”

“Only if there are donuts,” he teased. “But yeah. I’ll bring Erica. She knows some people with cash. Should I wear my uniform or go incognito?”

“Uniform, obviously. We need all the hero cred we can get to get the civilians on board. Spread the word.”

“You got it. See you then.” Click.

As her final move, she grabbed her phone and fired off a rapid group text to everyone else she knew in town.

“Hey heroes, emergency meeting at BB tonight. 7:00p.m. Be there, or I’ll steal your badges.”

She set the phone down, then snapped open the dry-erase marker and scribbled “Fundraiser Planning Tonight” on the counter whiteboard, adding little siren emojis for effect.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Kristy poured more coffee than she thought physically possible.

Every order was a chance to drop hints about the event: “Tell your friends.” “Bring your family.” “There will be cookies and coffee.” She taped flyers to the to-go cups, then to the front window, then to the nearby light posts around the park.

Tanner watched her for a long time. At first, he kept to the back, eyes dark, but by noon, he started catching her ideas and tossing them back.

“If you want to get the firehouse on board, you need to bribe them with breakfast burritos,” he informed her, topping off a customer’s cup. “It’s the only food group they trust.”

“Done,” Kristy said, writing it down.

“And make sure the bake sale isn’t just sweet stuff. People buy out the savory stuff first. Meat pies, sausage rolls—anything with cheese sells out before the brownies.”

She scribbled, “Tons of CHEESE,” in all caps, then looked up at him. “You’re good at this, you know.”

He shrugged, but she saw the small, proud twist at the corner of his mouth. “We all pitched in for community events.”

By two, Kristy had filled three pages in her notepad and had already started a fourth.

She spent the last hour before closing prepping a box of sample pastries, “for bribery,” she told Rhonda, who responded by baking two extra lemon loaves and pre-slicing them into squares for “maximum snackability.”

By 4:00 p.m., the place had emptied out. Tanner counted the register, his posture a little taller than it was that morning. Kristy cleaned the bar with a kind of energy that only came from pure adrenaline and the knowledge that, tonight, they might actually have a chance.

She looked at the clock. Three hours was just enough time to get everything ready for the meeting.

She pushed the tables into a big, awkward circle.

The pastry case was cleared and refilled with leftover muffins, cheese rolls, and one “emergency cake” from the back freezer.

A whiteboard sat at the head of the formation, the bottom lined with markers and more dry-erase stains than clean space.

She’d brewed three giant carafes of coffee, each labeled “Mild,” “Leadfoot,” and “High-Octane Deathwish.”

Tanner hovered by the window, arms crossed but less in defense and more in awe.

He watched as Kristy prepped for the onslaught, balancing five mugs in one hand and a notepad in the other.

She moved with the energy of a field medic prepping a trauma bay before a disaster.

If she had to fight for this place, she’d do it at top volume and with snacks.

The first to arrive was Aiden. He walked in like he was reporting for duty—clean jeans, fresh shirt, SAR jacket zipped midway up his chest. Next to him, Lindsay wore yoga pants and an insulated vest, hand tucked tight in his.

They took seats together, Aiden instantly surveying the room like he was prepping a briefing, Lindsay snagging the best view of the whiteboard.

Zach arrived next, dragging the cold in with him, a ball cap pulled down over his hair, and a T-shirt that read, “Caffeine is my Password.” Erica was beside him, all business in a black suit, heels clicking against the old wood.

She set her bag down and started pulling out folders and a thin MacBook.

“I know how important this is,” she called out with a grin, “I ditched a board meeting for this.”

Hayley and Connor came as a pair, but that was where the similarity stopped.

Hayley breezed in, scarf flapping, notepad already open, and pen in hand.

She scanned the room, searching for gossip, intrigue, or both.

Connor followed with measured steps, hands in jacket pockets, the cop in him never fully at rest. His eyes swept the perimeter, then settled on the nearest chair to the door.

Kristy kept looking up at the clock. She felt like every minute was an hour, and every hour was a month off the shop’s life expectancy.

Several more town members arrived and took seats with the rest of the group.

The place became so full that Kristy almost missed the last guest—Emily Merlot—who slipped in quietly and took a seat in the far corner, back to the wall, tablet at the ready.

At exactly 7:10, after greeting everyone, Kristy tapped a fork against her mug. “Thanks for coming, everyone,” she started, voice a shade too loud. “You all know what’s going on. The Brave Badge is in trouble. Big trouble.”

Tanner flinched, but she pushed on. “We have two weeks to turn this around. I know you all have jobs, lives, and families, but if this place closes, it’s not just us out of work.

It’s a hole in the town. The regulars, the crews, the students—they lose their spot.

And, honestly, I lose the only place that’s ever made me feel like I could breathe. ”

Aiden nodded, already on board. “What’s the plan?”

Kristy inhaled, then riffled through her notepad.

“Here’s what I got, but I need everyone’s help.

We need to run at least three events, one every few days.

First Responders Day. A bake sale, but with a twist. Maybe a car wash or something.

We need every social channel covered. If anyone can think of a way to bribe the mayor into showing up, I’m all ears. ”

Zach grinned. “He’ll do anything for free coffee and a selfie.”

“Noted,” Kristy murmured as she wrote down to add a photo op station at each event. “Zach, could you organize the car wash?”

He gave her a thumbs-up. “Consider it scrubbed.”

Nurse Gomez raised her hand. “What about hospital staff? You know better than anyone night shifts run on caffeine. If you can get us a deal on group orders, we’ll make it rain coffee runs. I can hit every nurse’s break room with flyers and samples.”

Kristy lit up, grateful for her former co-worker’s support. “Yes, I’ll make a flyer tonight. I’ll bake a test batch of the scone-of-the-day, and you can bring it in with the details.”

Aiden leaned in, his voice all command now. “We can put up a banner at the SAR shed. And my team will volunteer for any manual labor or event setup. You need tents? Grills? Done.”

Erica, barely looking up from her laptop, chimed in. “I’ll do a funding match for any donations. No limit.” She shrugged at the group’s surprise. “It’s a tax write-off, not to mention a great cause.”

Hayley snapped her pen in half by accident, but the drama fit. “I’ll put a feature in the Gazette. Maybe run a daily thermometer to track the fundraising. People love those. If you can leak me some ‘shop in peril’ details, even better.”

Connor cleared his throat. “I’ll handle security. If any pranksters or teenagers try to sabotage an event, I’ll make sure they regret it.”

There was a wave of laughter. Even Emily smiled at that, or maybe it was just indigestion.

For a moment, Kristy forgot to be nervous. She paced the circle, fielding ideas and jotting everything down. “We need a hashtag and not something lame.”

“#SaveTheBadge,” Zach offered.

“Too serious,” Rhonda snorted. “#EspressoYourself?”

“#BraveTheBean,” Hayley added, eyes sparkling.

Lindsay raised a brow. “#CaffeinateTheMountain?”

Erica shook her head. “Just use them all. More hashtags, more reach.”

Kristy agreed, scribbling them down with arrows and exclamation points.

After an hour, the whiteboard looked like a flowchart for a military operation crossed with a bake-off.

Everyone had a job, even the Turner twins and O’Connell trio—Lindsay volunteered them to run a lemonade stand at the car wash.

There were phone trees, email chains, and a schedule of posts for social media.

Kristy had never felt more like she was part of something important.

Near the end, Emily finally spoke up. “You know, most franchises fold because they don’t use their resources. Joe Griffin didn’t send me to close you down. He sent me to see if you’d fight for it. This is the first time since being here that I actually believe you might pull it off.”

Tanner, who’d been silent the whole time, looked up at her. “What changed your mind?”

Emily smiled, a little softer than usual. “Most people whine and complain, but in the end, don’t do anything to fix the problem. You built a team to stand with you before you even opened this place. That’s rare.”

She nodded at Kristy. “You’re the reason I think it might work. Keep running things like this, and I’ll give you as much time as I can.”

Kristy felt her heart leap up into her face. “Thank you,” she managed and hoped no one could see her eyes go shiny.

As the meeting wound down, Rhonda herded everyone together for a group selfie. “First responders, get in the middle. Kristy, you’re the star. Blaze, try to look happy for once.”

Everyone squeezed in. Tanner hesitated, but Kristy grabbed his sleeve and pulled him closer. “Smile,” she whispered, “or I’ll make you wear a tutu at the car wash.”

He snorted, but the corner of his mouth turned up.

They all raised their coffee mugs for the shot. After the photo, Aiden clapped Tanner on the back. “You got this.”

Lindsay hugged Kristy, then whispered, “You’re a force of nature. He’s lucky to have you.”

Kristy almost told her the truth—that she was terrified, that she’d never saved anything this big before. But instead, she hugged Lindsay tighter and nodded.

The shop emptied out fast. Only Kristy, Tanner, Rhonda, and Emily remained. Emily packed up her tablet and then paused at the door. “I’m rooting for you guys,” she told them with a genuine smile, then left.

“We got this,” Rhonda encouraged as she followed behind. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”

Kristy turned and found Tanner at the window, looking out at the street.

She came to stand next to him. For a moment, neither said anything. Then Tanner exhaled, a sound more relief than exhaustion.

“You really think this will work?” he questioned with concern in his voice.

Kristy looked out at the night, the twinkle lights from Main Street and the stars just starting to sparkle over the mountaintops.

“I think if anyone can make it work, we can. And if not, we’ll at least go down swinging.”

He glanced at her, and she saw the spark again. Not just hope—maybe trust. “Thank you,” he whispered— like it was the hardest thing in the world to say.

She leaned her shoulder against his arm, a tiny nudge. “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until I’ve got you in a tutu.”

He laughed, and it sounded real.

They stood together in the empty shop, looking at the messy tables and the crowded whiteboard, and for the first time, Kristy let herself believe.