People adapt. People change. You can grow where you're planted.

The words were strung in the air like garland. She could almost see them.

Children always know when their mothers are crazy - they just never admit it, not out loud, to anyone.

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.

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.

When someone needs help, you help. Right?

Misfits need a place to get away, too. All that trying to fit in is exhausting.