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“Yes, ma’am,” he says.
I insist on paying the volunteers he brought with him with coffee vouchers and a box of pastry samples. I offered them monetary compensation, but they refused.
“Free coffee for a month—that’s more than generous,” Allen, one of the men, insists.
“I expect to see you guys every morning. If I don’t, I’ll be at your doors, making daily deliveries,” I inform them.
“We’ll be here,” they all promise.
Once they’ve gone, I look at my watch and realize it’s time to head to Gus’s for lunch and a gossip-fest with my favorite fellas.
I turn out the light, grab my purse, and lock up.
