There was a mood of magic and frenzy to the room. Crystalline swirls of sugar and flour still lingered in the air like kite tails. And then there was the smell-the smell of hope, the kind of smell that brought people home.

First frost meant letting go, so it was always reason to celebrate.

Crystalline swirls of sugar and flour still lingered in the air like kite tails.

I think Heaven will be like a first kiss.

Coffee, she'd discovered, was tied to all sorts of memories, different for each person. Sunday mornings, friendly get-togethers, a favorite grandfather long since gone, the AA meeting that saved their life. Coffee meant something to people. Most found their lives were miserable without it. Coffee was a lot like love that way. And because Rachel believed in love, she believed in coffee, too.

If they just carried on like always, everything would be ok.

Everything had felt so precarious since her mother's death, like she was walking on a bridge made of paper.