All she said was, “Yeah, yeah. Once more and I’m fired.”
“I mean it this time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
Dawn had worked here a couple of summers ago, and in a moment of weakness I’d rehired her when she asked for her job back. She hadn’t been dependable then, and she wasn’t now, so this was on me.
“Charlie, go home,” Pippa said crisply. “Dawn, you can start by unloading that dishwasher and running another load through.”
“Ugh, no thanks. You do it. I prefer to work out the front.” She yanked her hairband out, gathered up her tangled hair, and redid her ponytail. It was still lopsided.
Pippa’s head swivelled slowly in Dawn’s direction.
“What?” Dawn said.
“Unload the dishwasher. You can work at the counter when you no longer look as if you rolled out of bed ten minutes ago.”
“Uh, it was twenty minutes ago? Actually? And come on, it’s not as if anyone can tell. I’m not wearing my pjs. I did change into my uniform.”
“Dishwasher!”
“Okay then, I’m off,” I said, and ducked into the tiny office to grab my phone and my jacket. I stuffed my phone in my pocket, bundled my jacket under my arm, and made a break for it.
“Charlie—” Dawn called after me plaintively.
“Pippa, you’re in charge!” I shouted, and slid out the back door.
Leavingmy beloved coffee shop in someone else’s care was a relatively new development for me. I liked to think it showed personal growth. I used to be the one to open and close—every single day, seven days a week. Even though Pippa and Milly had both regularly offered to do it, I’d always turned them down. The Chipped Cup had been my whole life.
It wasn’t anymore, and I’d learned to unclench.
Just a little.
I drove across town, past the honey-coloured houses that looked so picturesque on postcards, past The Star pub with its overflowing beer garden, over the bridge and the river, and past the water meadow.
The pink hollyhocks and purple buddleia that sprouted everywhere in these parts were on their last legs, dropping petals and going to seed. I gave it a scant couple of weeks before people got ahead of themselves and started decorating for Christmas. Right now, it was a glorious sunny afternoon, and instead of working until six and dragging myself home to sit blankly in front of my television with Phil until I microwaved somethingfor supper and went to bed early, I got to spend it with my boyfriend and my dog.
And today, I had something special in mind.
Today was the day I finally gave in. I was going to be brave.
I was going to let Kevin do the thing he’d been on at me to let him do for months.
“Please, Charlie,” he’d whisper, usually in bed, when I was all worked up and vulnerable, primed to agree to anything as long as he kept doing what he was doing. “Please. You won’t be sorry. You know I’m good at this sort of thing. Have you ever been unsatisfied before?”
I did know he was good at this sort of thing. He’d proved it, over and over. And, no. I’d never been disappointed with his efforts.
“You won’t have to lift a finger,” he’d promise, pinning me with his heavy body and staring down into my face with unblinking focus. “I’ll do all the work. I like it.”
I knew that, too.
Kevin liked nothing more than hard physical labour. Building up a sweat. Using his big muscles.
“You’ll be so happy,” he’d say. “Come on, Charlie.Letme.”
Fine. Kevin wanted to make me happy? I wanted to make him happy, too. I’d put it off for long enough. It was time to give him the green light.
He could begin renovating my garage.
