In slow, circular motions, I pour boiling water into the coffee maker, watching the ground beans foam into a gentle mass of light-brown bubbles. Once the final drops have filtered through, I pour it onto some ice and set the glass on a tray. It's our new signature blend, and I'm eager to have my friends try it.

The soft click-clacking of heels makes its way towards me, and I look up to see Misty set down a stack of cups and plates.

"That couple, right there!" She points to an elderly pair. "They said our new blend was amazing!"

Indeed, it seems that everyone is enjoying it. Even our oldest patrons approve of the new blend. I look around the shop, taking in the lively chatter of our customers, the clinking of glass against wooden tables, and the charming atmosphere of the place. In some ways the shop hasn't changed at all. But ever since my parents passed the business onto me, I've added my own touches to the space, like installing new light fixtures, adjusting the shop's colour palette for a modern look, and rearranging the tables to give the shop a more welcoming space. Through it all though, I've been careful not to change too much.

I nod along as Misty rambles on about our customers' verdicts. I never doubted the blend, of course; I had Misty and Connor approve it (both who are the pickiest coffee lovers I've ever known). The blend itself wasn't too different from its predecessor either, though it was my first time altering one of my family's oldest recipes. Perhaps it was less of a new direction for A Cup of Comfort, and more of my first step forward as the owner.

It's validating to see that the new blend, my new blend, has been a success. More than that, it feels refreshing to switch up the menu, like I was finally making the business my own. Even so, I can't help but feel like I'm taking something away from my parents.

I reach out to do the dishes, but Misty stops me. "I can do it. It's been a long time since you've seen them, after all."

I glance over to the table where my friends are laughing at something Anthony said. One of his jokes, no doubt. "Well yes, but-"

"Connor will take care of the other orders. Right, Connor?" She looks pointedly at the disehelved college student who barely manages to avoid breaking another plate.

"Huh? Uh, yeah sure. Lemme just..." He grabs a tray of Vietnamese baguettes (which has been sitting on the counter for some time) and hurries to a table.

"Don't worry about it, boss," Misty assures. She starts doing the dishes. "We got this."

My eyes stray to the shop's windows, where the sky is beginning to turn red and orange. It's almost the end of the day, I convince myself. I deserve this. "Thank you," I murmur. I take my tray of orders and walk to my friends, who are seated against a wall adorned with vintage family photos.

"Will!" My friends do a small cheer as I approach. I smile, embarrassed, while my stomach does a nervous happy-dance. I should be used to them making me the center of attention by now, but the curious glances in our direction make me want to disappear. And in my own coffee shop, too!

"What's up, my man?" Anthony claps me on the back. "That coffee smells good!"

"Pink Apron! You never change," says Basim. I make a face, though at this point I've accepted that it's become my permanent nickname. I can only hope Basim won't come up with something worse.

"How have you been?" Katya asks.

Eddie stands up to give me a hug. "Missed you," he tells me.

I grin. "You too, Ed." To the rest of them, I add, "This time it's on the house for real. Don't even try to argue with me, alright?"

(Scroll down for Part 2/4)