Shay came in from the front with sunglasses on top of her head and a stack of clean bar towels against one hip. “Nella,the printed specials look good, but a tourist outside pointed at boardwalk-style and said, ‘Are you putting a boardwalk in the dining room?’”
Nella closed her eyes for half a second. “Tell them the boardwalk is a state of mind and the fire code says no.”
Shay’s mouth twitched. “I’ll make it sound less concerning.”
“Don’t make it too charming. I can’t afford construction questions.”
Taryn appeared at the takeout window with a laminated menu draft. Her braid swung over one shoulder, and a pen was tucked behind her ear. “Two volleyball guys already came by and said, ‘Is this the place with music tonight?’ I can start pitching the promo to that crowd at lunch.”
“Tell them music starts at five,” Nella said. “Food starts when Mari permits joy.”
Mari lifted a spoon from the pass. “Joy starts when the meatballs are the correct size.”
Dusty drifted past carrying a stack of paper boats. “I support appropriately sized meatballs.”
“Prove it by putting those by the pass,” Mari said.
Nella aimed the clipboard at him. “After that, specials go out front.”
Dusty nodded. “The specials and I are ready for the public.”
“Try not to discuss destiny with customers before noon.”
“I can try.”
“That’s more realistic. Do that.”
I moved where Nella sent me, carried what she assigned, and kept my mouth shut unless someone asked me a direct question. That sounded simple.
It took work.
Nella moved like a weather event with a clipboard. The longer I stood there, the more pressure points showed themselves. The narrow gap near the service well wherecustomers could block staff. The patio rail where the line could drift into the server path. The back door hinge that still didn’t sit right. The cash drawer that needed a second lockbox before closing.
I set the tomato case on the pass and swallowed the suggestion on my tongue.
Nella caught me looking at the patio. “No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your eyebrows did.”
“I have expressive eyebrows.”
“You have expensive-man eyebrows. They look like they’re about to order people around.”
I lifted both hands, palms out. “No orders.”
“Good. If I need intimidation, I’ll point.”
“That’s a practical system.”
“It’s worked on cheese vendors and one health inspector with boundary issues.”
My phone vibrated before I could answer.
The screen lit with Uncle Sal’s name.
Nella saw it. She kept the clipboard tucked against her ribs, but her fingers tightened around the edge.
