I never told my boyfriend’s snobbish parents that I owned the bank holding their massive debt. To them, I was just a “barista with no future.”

I picked up my coffee.

Liam emerged from beneath the sink.

“Fixed.”

“How much?”

He wiped his hands on a rag.

“For you?”

I raised an eyebrow.

He laughed.

“Full price.”

“Good answer.”

He handed me the invoice.

I paid it immediately.

Victoria groaned.

“You two are impossible.”

“No,” Liam said.

He glanced at me.

“We’re finally learning.”

The morning crowd began coming through the door.

Soon the café was full of voices and steam and clattering cups.

No chandeliers.

No champagne.

No imported cigars.

Nothing designed to impress anyone.

Just people.

Working.

Learning.

Failing.

Trying again.

Victoria tied on an apron because Maya told her nobody was allowed to stand around looking decorative.

Daniel nearly choked on his coffee.

Liam laughed so hard he had to lean against the counter.

Victoria glared at all of us.

Then, slowly, she laughed too.

I hadn’t heard that sound from her before.

Not the sharp laugh she’d used to humiliate people.

A real one.

Unprotected.

Human.

I looked through the window.

The rain from the night before had washed the street clean.

Sunlight caught in the puddles.

For one fleeting second, I imagined my father outside.

Work jacket.

Grease beneath his nails.

Hands in his pockets.

Watching.

Not because I had become president of anything.

Because the door was open.

Because somebody who needed a chance had walked through it.

Because I had finally understood what he’d left me.

I touched the old café key hanging from the chain around my neck.

Then I turned back toward the room.

“Madam President?”

Daniel called.

I looked at him.

He held up his phone.

“The board.”

Everyone went quiet.

I sighed.

“Tell them I’ll call back.”

Daniel blinked.

“You have a nine o’clock acquisition vote.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you doing?”

I looked at Eli, who had just made an absolutely terrible cappuccino.

Foam overflowed down the cup.

He stared at the disaster in horror.

I picked up a towel and handed it to him.

“Something important.”

Daniel studied me.

Then he smiled and put the phone away.

Eli looked at the mess.

“Start over?”

“Start over.”

He dumped the drink.

I showed him how to angle the pitcher.

Outside, sunlight climbed higher over the buildings.

Inside, the machine hissed warmly between us.

And when the bell above the door rang again, I didn’t wonder whether the person entering knew who I was.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t need them to.

I already knew.