Our Story

I grew up in rural Pennsylvania, where winters lasted forever and imagination was often the best source of entertainment. My mother, Mary, understood this better than anyone.

She staged lavish childhood tea parties for me - not the polite sort, but the kind where the mismatched china seemed enchanted, the stuffed animals held complicated political alliances, and every cup poured was an invitation to dream a little bigger than the world allowed.

Those early afternoons planted something in both of us: the idea that a shared table can be a kind of magic. A place where people become braver, kinder, more themselves.

Years later, as adults, my mother and I followed the thread of that magic across the world. We wandered through Europe's cafés: Parisian hideaways where ideas crackled in the air, Dutch coffee houses filled with music and buttery pastries, London tearooms where whole friendships were forged over a pot of Darjeeling. We even stood among the misty tea farms of Asia, watching leaves that had traveled centuries and continents.

What struck both of us most was how these houses once served as equalizers. Grand or humble, they welcomed everyone: artists and laborers, dreamers and skeptics, strangers and friends. They were the first modern spaces where women could gather freely, share their thoughts, build community, and step, quietly but firmly, into public life.

Some dreams fade over time. Ours didn't.

Moon River Cafe was born from that stubborn, shining idea my mother and I carried across oceans: to build a place where people felt safe, seen, and welcomed. A home away from home filled with Italian espresso strong enough to revive the dead, Parisian teas with stories steeped into every leaf, and treats that taste like comfort.

But above all, Moon River exists for you: the artists, authors, musicians, wanderers, and neighbors who give our little café its beating heart.