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I blink back to reality.
“Yes, what’s wrong?”
The girl, a reliable employee for nearly two years, motions with her thumb behind her.
“There’s a woman at the entrance causing a commotion. She knows she knows you and your husband.”
I let out a gritty sigh. I know who is causing the ruckus without even having to go over there.
“It’s fine,” I say, then walk out from behind the counter. “Take the register. I will deal with this.”
I walk over to where one of my other workers is arguing with a woman who is already starting to shout. I see that it is, of course, Ada. She looks enraged, eyes bulging with red streaky veins.
“I need to see her!” Ada yells.
My employee is trying to calm her down, telling her that there is no need to shout. I touch the young lady’s shoulder and motion for her to walk away. Ada immediately narrows her eyes, crosses her arms and takes a step toward me.
“So how does it feel to be a home-wrecker, huh?”
She isn’t yelling anymore, but her voice is still at a good decibel. There are only a handful of customers, but the shop is small, and they are all looking in our direction.
I use my best retail voice to try to usher her outside.
“Let’s talk about this somewhere else, Ada. This is my place of business. I am sure you can understand that.”
If she wasn’t so frustrating, Ada could be very pretty. Her biggest flaw is the heir of entitlement about her that was likely instilled in birth. Despite a very attractive appearance, the unpleasantness underneath has a way of marring the beauty.
She scoffs at me, then pulls an envelope from her purse. “Don’t condescend to me, thief,” Ada asserts. “I have something you may want, so you better be nice to me.”
I look at the writing on the envelope, noticing it has been addressed to the cafe. I frown, trying to avoid the sarcasm that rises in my throat naturally.
“What is that, Ada? Are you going through my mail now?” I want to throw in that doing so is a federal crime but toss the comment aside for now.
Ada opens the package roughly. What emerges from it makes my heart skip a beat.
In her hands is the latest edition of the magazine we took photos for, just after the wedding. I had been waiting to see them ever since we got back home. I hate to admit it, but I know I am always going to cherish them; no matter how this fake arrangement goes down.
My outrage builds at seeing her take the thing I have been waiting for. Like everything else, it has my name right on it, and yet she still thinks it is hers to possess.
“Give it to me, Ada. This is childish.”
Ada bursts out into a maniacal laugh. The customers continue to stare, and I feel my face start to heat with annoyance and embarrassment.
“You really think you can keep him? A man like that?” she says, laughing and pointing at the cover. “You are a peasant, honey, and Aiden, he is my prince.”
Before I get a chance to hit her back with an insult, or perhaps, simply snatch the magazine from her hands, Ada takes a coffee cup that had been left by a customer on one of the booths. What happens next moves in slow motion, and I am helpless to stop it.
I hold my hands out, as though it will make any difference. Desperately, I cry out, trying to knock some sense into her. “Don’t!” It is the only word I can come up with.
Ada does not care. She pours the remains of the cold coffee all over the magazine, instantly ruining it. I stand there, frozen in shock, my heart wrenching with agony. She soaks the entire thing, then lets it drop to the floor. It makes a loud, wet smacking sound.
“Now let’s see how you are going to framethat!” Ada exclaims maliciously, her eyes glittering cruelly.
The magazine sits in a wet, brown coffee puddle, the liquid pooling around it on the floor. I stare at it in disbelief.
Ada begins laughing, then spins around to walk out the door. I have nothing left to say, and I feel pathetic.
One of my employees runs over with a paper towel, looking alarmed. “Who the hell was that?” she asks in a frenzy.
