Page 18 of The F*ck-It List

“Right, guess I’ll see you.” He shoves past August and leaves, stomping up the road.

I’m still stood with nothing to say, because I don’t feel I should have even been a part of the conversation and the need to make everyone around me happy is making me squirmy in my tummy.

“Um,” I say dumbly.

“He’s a good kid,” August blurts. “Does idiotic things sometimes, but he’s a good kid. And he’ll work hard for you, even if he has a bit of an attitude about it to start with.”

Oh joy. “Okay,” I say slowly, but really, I don’t think it is okay. I was thinking I would probably need to hire some help over the summer, but I was hoping to have some say in who that may be. “Um, I’m not sure what I have for him to do right now.”

“He’ll do whatever you need.” Hands on his hips, he looks over my shoulder and jerks his chin toward the poorly fixed shelving units. “Those probably won’t hold a lot of weight for very long.”

I turn back to see what he means. We had to remove a couple of shelves completely and other bits were fixed with wood glue and look about ready to splinter again. “Yeah,” I sigh. “They were only meant to be temporary anyway. I was going to get a built-in bookcase put up. Maybe something custom. My own little library, you know?”

The look he gives me is thoroughly unimpressed and I don’t really understand what I’ve done to piss him off, so a smile awkwardly.

“You need a carpenter,” he grumbles.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

He huffs a sigh, pretty brown eyes going to the ceiling like he’s summoning strength. “I’m a carpenter.”

“Oh,” I say, pleasantly surprised and grinning. “That’s awesome.”

His jaw flexes and I tilt my head to observe him. Clearly August is naturally a grumpy guy. I haven’t done anything to him but he’s looking at me like I’m the bane of his life. This must be his default. and I’m happy to accept him like this. I’ll keep on smiling anyway.

The next day, I’m surprised when Connor shows up in the afternoon, still in his school uniform, heavy backpack slung over one shoulder. He has far less bravado than he did when August hauled him in here yesterday, quiet and avoiding my eyes where possible. When hemumbled a “what should I do?” I pointed him in the direction of the bookshelves and told him to unbox my books and put them in alphabetical order by author.

I’m not even sure it’s how I want them organised, but I had to give him something to do while I baked cookies. Eli had very kindly said I could bring some over to the pub tonight and he’d give them out to the locals and let them know they’ll be available from the café when it opens. I’m not entirely sure how well these will go with beer, but they’re easy to make and absolutely delicious. I’ve weighed out all the ingredients when Connor comes to stand the other side of the counter, popping up in my periphery and making me jump.

He smirks in amusement when I clutch my chest. “Sorry.”

“Are you finished?” I glance behind him and see the shelves are in fact full of books.

“Yep.” He nods. “I know the alphabet, so turns out it wasn’t all that hard.”

“Right. Okay, um—”

“What are you making?” He peers over the counter to where the bowls of flour, sugar, butter, and chocolate are.

“Chocolate chip cookies,” I chirp with a smile, because who isn’t happy when they think of chocolate chip cookies?

“Cool.” He nods slowly. “Can I help?” The question is so small and so hesitant, I almost think I hadn’t heard him right.

“Sure.” I give him another smile. “Grab an apron from over there and come round.

He does as he’s told, and I spend the next forty minutes showing him how to make the cookie dough. It’s very clear very quickly Connor hasn’t done any baking before, but he concentrates really hardand follows instruction well. The tip of his tongue pokes out from between his lips when he works, which I actually find totally adorable and, on several occasions, I have to remind myself this kid is here because he vandalised my dream. Regardless, I find myself enjoying his company and teaching him my recipe. Connor smiles often, unlike his uncle, and seems a lot more relaxed as the afternoon goes on.

When the cookies are baking, I show Connor around the little café and show him where everything is. He seems to actually take it all in and even asks some questions. The oven timer dings, and he grins like a kid on Christmas morning. I allow him one cookie, which he declares to be the best thing he’s ever put in his mouth, and ask him to drop them over to the pub on his way home as it’s only a little way up the road and in the right direction.

Just as I’m smiling to myself over the success of the afternoon and silently thanking August for bringing Connor onboard, the bookshelves collapse, and hundreds of paperbacks once again litter my café floor.

six

No. 15: Make a new friend

August

It’s a shitty day. I was working in town today, the village can keep me busy, but it’s not enough to sustain my business, so today I was working with strangers. People who I have to give customer service to, with a smile. I had one woman who’d called me in to hang a picture rail and then wanted to add on several other ‘little’ jobs, making me late for my next customer. She then argued with me when she had to pay more than the original quote because she was expecting the extras to be done as goodwill. Fuck right off, lady.