Free From the Grounds Up by Sandra Balzo Page B

this place open by September?'
    'Of course.' Ronny reached through the center ticket window and picked up a pad of yellow, lined paper lying on the counter beyond it. On top of his pad was the diagram of Uncommon Grounds I'd left with him.
    'From what I can tell,' he said, 'you had seating for twelve to fifteen people in your old store.'
    'Between the cafe tables and counter, yes,' I answered, looking around me with a critical eye. 'I'm hoping, though, that we can get more in here.'
    Ronny made a note. 'That shouldn't be a problem, if you're certain you need them. Are you planning on tables outside as well?'
    I nodded. 'Yes, but those will only give us seating for the warmer months.' Which in Wisconsin, meant late May through early September. If we were lucky.
    'But didn't you say most of our business will be takeout?' Sarah asked. 'Commuters buying something to have for lunch at work and, in the evening, picking up something for dinner at home? That's not seasonal.'
    'Do you want counter seating?' Ronny asked.
    I gestured toward the large window on the side facing the tracks. 'I'd love a counter running the entire length of that wall.' I turned to Sarah, remembering, finally, to include her. 'What do you think?'
    Sarah flushed with pleasure. Under all that bluster and crust, she was still the kid who'd been picked last for volleyball in elementary school, so she was secretly thrilled to be included in anything.
    And I could identify. I was picked second last. Unless Cyndi Luckwood was sick. Then I was dead last.
    'What about the part of the wall with no window?' Sarah asked. Then she snapped her fingers. 'I know. We can put electrical sockets and a work area there, so people can plug in their computers and not be distracted by a changing view.'
    'Perfect,' I said. 'And we'll have Wi-Fi!'
    Sarah and I high-fived, like we'd just nosed-out Al Gore for 'inventing' the Internet. Her eyes narrowed. 'Wait a second. I thought you hated the cyber-cafes like HotWired. You said you wanted people to talk, not type.'
    HotWired, a chain of Internet cafes, had been our chief competition in town until . . . well, that's another story. Point is, though, HotWired was no more.
    'That was because I hated the owner of HotWired, Marvin LaRoche,' I added for Ronny's benefit. 'Besides, whether it's typing or texting or tweeting, people are going to be clacking away. Who are we to stop them?'
    'And, better yet, why not profit from it?' Sarah added.
    'Amen,' I said, wholeheartedly.
    As if on cue, my cellphone rang. Pavlik.
    'I'm looking for Sarah,' he said without preamble. 'Is she with you?'
    'Sarah?' Call me silly, but I'd hoped he was calling my cellphone to talk to his principal squeeze . 'Why?'
    'So she's there?'
    Sarah mouthed, 'Who's that?'
    'The sheriff,' I said aloud. 'He wants to know if you're here.'
    'Maggy . . .' There was a warning tone in the voice coming from the phone.
    I'd pushed Pavlik as far as I dared, so I handed the phone to Sarah.
    'Hello?'
    I couldn't hear Pavlik's voice anymore. Just my luck he didn't practice 'cell-yell'.
    'No, she didn't tell me.' Sarah fixed on my eyes.
    'Tell you what?' I whispered.
    Sarah ignored me. Vocally, I mean. She was shooting darts out of her eyes, though. 'No, this is the first I've heard about someone messing with my uncle's car.'
    Sarah listened again. Then, 'The clock? No, why would I touch—'
    My mind was racing. The police must have decided the clock had been re-set, despite Pavlik's skepticism. If they'd tested it and found Sarah's fingerprints . . .
    'But you did touch it,' I burst out. 'You straightened the clock on the wall, remember?'
    That got me another sour look and a hissed, 'Shut up!'
    So I did.
    'What's going on?' Ronny asked. I'd forgotten Sarah's cousin was still with us. I wanted to explain, but I wasn't sure how much I could or should tell him.
    I was saved from my ethical dilemma by Sarah, who handed me the phone. Evidently Pavlik had finished with her and it was my