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Wild Horses

    Georgia grunted as Mr. Biggis, her oversize Maine Coon cat, jumped on her chest, waking her. “Really, cat?” she grumbled before absently stroking his thick fur. Christmas morning: the holiday she had been dreading since her mother passed away nearly eight months ago. Georgia cracked an eyelid, checking the clock on her nightstand. Only five-thirty.
    “Well, Mr. Biggis, what say you? Shall we get up and get moving?” The cat purred, all the while nuzzling her hand. Georgia decided that she would open the coffee shop today despite the holiday. She couldn’t bear sitting in the apartment alone. Maybe families travelling would need caffeine to get them through the day. Besides, there were always those folks who had to work despite the holiday— police officers and fire fighters. Maybe she would have some business after all.
    Georgia moved her twenty-pound cat to another spot on the bed. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate her actions. Mr. Biggis bounded off the bed, likely headed to the kitchen for his breakfast. Her movements were unhurried as she got ready for the day. She finally made it to the kitchen to give the cat his scoop of food. Checking the clock, she realized she should hurry if she wanted to be open by six-thirty. She gave Mr. Biggis a quick pat before grabbing her keys and heading downstairs.
    The chill of the morning air hit her as she left the stairwell and dashed around the corner to the shop’s door. After her mother died, Georgia sold the rustic adobe home they shared in the hills and moved into town. She used her inheritance to purchase the coffee shop and the apartment above it. Initially business was slow, but once people realized the shop was under new ownership—and that the coffee was outstanding—she soon accumulated a loyal following.
    After flipping on the lights, Georgia lit the gas fireplace. As much as she wasn’t in the mood for Christmas music, she decided any brave souls venturing out might appreciate a festive atmosphere.
    The first hour and a half saw Georgia enjoying her own peppermint latte while surfing the internet. She really needed to do inventory but couldn’t get motivated. Hell, it’s a holiday. No need. Deciding that the leather chairs in front of the fireplace looked a lot more comfortable than the stool she currently occupied, Georgia picked up her coffee mug and took a seat. She leafed through the current issue of Outdoor Photographer , scanning the new equipment reviews. Georgia sighed. She loved photography. In fact, the shop’s walls were decorated with her landscape prints. However, since her mother died, the camera had done nothing but collect dust. Her mom had been her biggest fan, always offering support and positive feedback. Now, she didn’t have anyone to fill that role.
    The bell on the door tinkled, interrupting her thoughts. She stood and faced her customers with a hesitant half-smile, half-grimace. Her face lit with joy when she realized who called: Officers Vincent and Palmero of the Santa Fe PD.
    “Merry Christmas, Officer Vincent,” Georgia said warmly.
    “Come here, girl,” he pulled her into an affectionate embrace. The man was old enough to be her father and treated her like the daughter he never had. “It’s Harry, none of this formal Officer stuff.”
    She grinned against his neck. Georgia knew he was divorced; she often wished he could have met her mother. They would have made quite the couple.
    Stepping back, she asked, “Want your usual? I have some of that French Roast brewed you like so much.”
    “That would be great.” He stepped aside, making space for the other officer.
    “How about you, Manny? I can make that mocha raspberry latte you like.” She winked at him. He liked the frou-frou drinks and tried to keep it a secret from Harry.
    “ Perfecto , my little Georgia peach.” He too pulled her into a hug. The man was huge – both height-wise and muscle-wise. She guessed that he kept himself that way, given he