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Ruth sighed. “I’ll get her some. Just give me a minute to finish up here.”
Carol disappeared back into the deli.
“Why can’t Barbara Jean get her own cheese?” Bec asked.
“She claims she doesn’t know what kind I want her to use, even though I’ve showed her what kind at least five times.”
“Barbara Jean doesn’t create problems. Barbara Jean is the problem.” Bec picked up a cheese mold.
“Don’t let her hear you say that. If she quits, my life will become a nightmare.” Ruth dropped the gloves on the table by the door then headed out into the deli.
Only two more hours in Barbara Jean’s shift and then the rest of the afternoon and then home. Ruth was ready for home. She needed several hours of uninterrupted quiet.
A few hours later, she settled into her easy chair in the study with a glass of wine. Carol was watching TV, the evening dishes were done, and for once she didn’t have any paperwork to take care of. Tax season had been insane, and she wasn’t looking forward to the next one.
She ran through her mental checklist, wondering if she’d left anything undone that she needed to work on. Undoubtedly she had, but by the time she got home these days, she was usually too tired to push herself into doing anything that didn’t have to be done. It was already early summer and she was still trying to catch up.
She leaned back in her chair, sipping her wine and trying not to think about David or Barbara Jean. This wasn’t the best way to relax. She should probably try reading one of the books she’d downloaded onto her e-reader. A good murder mystery, for example, preferably one with a male victim.
“Mom?” Carol leaned into the room.
“What?” She put down the wine, ready to go do something. Well, not ready so much as resigned. Maybe she could finish her wine later.
“Why don’t you fire Barbara Jean?”
And another problem rears its ugly head. “Because I don’t have a replacement for her, and I don’t have the time to look for one right now. And because if she leaves, I’ll have to do all the cooking.” And because they definitely needed the money from the deli lunches since it accounted for a good chunk of their profits.
“If you found a replacement, would you get rid of her?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. Are you still mad about her running you out of the kitchen?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not why I’m asking.”
“Why are you asking?”
“Because maybe I can find you a replacement for Barbara Jean.”
“If you’re looking for something to do, I have lots of things you could work on.” She rubbed her eyes. “But I really need you in the deli at coffee-break time and lunchtime. I don’t want to run the cash register, and I don’t want to teach Sue how to do it.”
Sue was her teenage waitress, who would probably have to quit when school started again. Yet another headache since Carol wouldn’t be around, either. She’d probably have to find a waitress and maybe a salesperson for the deli.
“It would help if I could slice the cheese and meat,” Carol said hopefully.
Ruth shook her head. “Not until you’re older. It’s too dangerous.”
“I saw this chain-mail glove on Amazon. I could use that, and then even if I screwed up, I wouldn’t hurt myself.”
Ruth found herself picturing Carol in a chain-mail gauntlet, maybe with a broadsword strapped to her waist. Probably the gloves she was talking about weren’t that big. “I’ll look into it.”
“Good, because I think that would solve one problem. Of course, it won’t take care of the problems with Barbara Jean.”
Ruth narrowed her eyes. She ought to be used to Carol sounding like she was forty rather than twelve, but it was still disconcerting when it happened. “Barbara Jean isn’t your problem, kiddo.”
“But if I could find you someone to replace her—”
Ruth shook her head. Firmly. “No, Carol. I appreciate your interest, but the day-to-day operation of the Salty Goat is my concern. I don’t want you to get involved. There’s already bad blood between you two, and I don’t want to have to deal with any more arguments.”
