And when she laughs again, I realize I’m smiling.
Chapter six
I just know what I like
Penny
The first thing I learn about working at Neverland is that the music is louder than it needs to be, and no one is entirely sure who increased the volume.
“Table six is still waiting on their burgers,” Chip calls, already halfway down the bar with two pints of beer in his hands.
I’ve learnt in the fifteen minutes I’ve been here that he’s Rose Potts’s son, though he works here instead of at Flora’s. Every time Gwen says his name, he straightens like he’s been called to attention, so I have a theory.
“I’m aware.” Gwen doesn’t look up from the lemon she’s slicing with calm precision. “Because you told me thirty seconds ago.”
Her dark hair falls in loosely around her face, and blunt bangs almost hide the fact that her striking green eyes miss absolutely nothing.
“I’m just sayin’.”
“AndI’mjust slicing.”
And I am holding a martini glass.
It is the wrong glass.
I know this because the woman in front of me is looking at it like I’ve handed her a teacup for her mojito. Gwen’s gaze lands on it, then at me, one dark brow lifting beneath her bangs.
“Tall,” she says.
I blink, turning to her. “Tall what?”
“Tallglass, Penny. For the mojito.” She gestures lightly toward the shelf without looking. “Second row.”
“Oh, right. Tall,” I say, repeating it as though I’ve never encountered height before.
The woman waiting for her drink gives me a sympathetic smile. I nod back and remake the mojito in something appropriately tall and cylindrical.
Chip slides past me again, muttering table numbers and orders under his breath. Someone at the end of the bar calls for more napkins, and the kitchen bell dings. A pool cue clacks against wood somewhere to my left.
This is not the corporate chaos I’m used to.
No quarterly targets pinned to a whiteboard. No one is pretending this is a streamlined event, and no one is smiling with their teeth or schmoozing me because of my last name while calculating how replaceable I am.
Neverland is loud and imperfect and smells faintly of fried onions.
And I can breathe.
“Penny!” Chip groans as he reappears at my elbow. “You rang in two waters and a cider for table four.”
“I did.”
“They ordered two ciders and a water.”
“Ah.” I stare at the screen. He’s right. “See, this is why you’re here, Chip! Balance.”
He blinks at me, unsure whether to be flattered or alarmed. But a little boy in a dinosaur hoodie appears near the far end of the bar, and attempts to climb onto a stool that is clearly not meant for someone his age. I abandon the register before the laws of physics tip him backwards.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, steadying the stool with one hand. “You can absolutely sit up here. We just need to make sure it doesn’t flip first.”
