Page 3 of Worth the Trip

We were catering a birthday party for eighty people the following afternoon. Half the cream listed on that order wouldn’t carry us through the first flavor.

“What does the warehouse have available?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“Call them.”

He reached for his phone immediately.

While he spoke to his supervisor, I opened our inventory system and began counting what we could redirect from regular production. The shop continued around us, though the employees nearest the counter lowered their voices. Everybody understood how quickly a supply shortage could turn an ordinary Saturday into a problem.

“They have the cream,” the driver said when he ended the call. “It was loaded onto another truck headed north.”

“How far?”

“About forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll go get it.”

Nyla turned toward me. “No.”

“We need it.”

“He can bring it back.”

The driver glanced between us. “I can meet the other truck and return before noon.”

“What time did your shift start?” I asked.

“Four this morning.”

“And when does it end?”

His hesitation answered first. “When the route is complete.”

I looked at the invoice again. The mistake wasn’t his, yet he’d driven across Self Ridge to warn us before somebody above him decided it was worth mentioning. Sending him on another ninety-minute round trip solved my inconvenience by extending his.

“Give me the location.”

“Nolani.”

“It’s fine.”

“It is not fine. You’ve been here since five-thirty.”

“So have you.”

“I went home before midnight.”

I ignored that unnecessary detail and handed the tablet to Kareem. “Can you finish the count?”

He accepted it with the expression of a man who agreed with my sister but valued continued employment.

The driver typed the location into my phone. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“You told us before it became an emergency. That helped.”

Relief crossed his face. I signed for the partial delivery and thanked him before he carried the empty box toward the door.