The only reason I didn’t gawk was because he had a Vietnam Vet hat on, and he looked like the sort of old man you’d want as your grandfather, especially during Christmas time—yeah, he’d be the grandpa that would put an orange in everyone’s stocking and do magic tricks on your birthday with napkins and pieces of licorice.
Where the heck was I getting all of this?
I needed to stop watching the Hallmark movie channel ASAP.
“Oh!” He turned on his heel and then pointed the same newspaper at me. “Now if we get too loud, just say the word. We can get pretty rowdy!”
I bit back a smile. “I promise I’ll let you know. I’m Penelope, by the way.”
He beamed. “I know! Jennifer told us all about you. Don’t you worry, this is one of the best places to live in the Pacific Northwest. Remember what I said.”
“Scout’s honor.” I winked just as the bell went off again.
Eight more men walked in, all around the same age, with a flurry of canes and walkers, and every single one of them ordered a black coffee except for the last one, who had the most beautiful brown skin and wide smile. “I need a little sugar.”
I let out a little laugh. “All right, so you want sugar in your coffee?”
“Oh no, I think I want a latte today, can you surprise me?”
“You mean with the flavor?”
He gave me a sheepish grin. “Every day’s a new day, isn’t it? Why not try something new? Life’s too short, Penelope.”
Did everyone know my name?
“Okay.” I quickly pulled his shot, steamed the milk and handed him his drink.
Exact change.
Again.
Well, at least my job was easy.
The morning crowd was indeed loud, but only because they were arguing about football. Apparently, we had a few Seahawks fans still upset over the Patriots beating them in the Super Bowl.
It was hard not to grin as they bickered.
“…they’re a running team and they threw the damn ball!”
“I knew it was PI the minute it happened.”
“Lucky catch.”
Smiling, I cleaned out the machine just as a few high school girls walked in with their backpacks secured on their backs and an astonishing amount of makeup painted across their young faces. “What can I get you girls?”
I didn’t have to guess. They would want frappuccinos. I would bet my life on it.
“Two frappuccinos.” The first girl gave me a weird look and then handed me a twenty. “With extra whip.”
“What size?”
“Sixteen.” She stared down at her phone. “Anyways, you were saying?”
“He fired me!” the other girl complained. “And he made fun of me, and then he thought I called him old. Whatever, I don’t even know, it was so strange. At first I thought he was hitting on me then he looked so offended that I don’t know, adults are weird and his kids were so annoying!”
“But he paid you like a hundred bucks for three hours,” the friend pointed out. “I’d put up with a lot for that kind of money, even if it meant babysitting some famous guy’s kids.”
“He’s not that famous.” She sniffed.
