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Opposite the entrance and outdoor seating, the service counter spans twenty feet with three order stations, a seven-foot bakery case, and a pickup area for drinks and to-go orders. Behind it, a wall of brewers, coolers, an iced drink mixing station, and industrial toaster ovens, as well as the entrance to the kitchen, make up the service alley.
The café comfortably seats two hundred, including the outdoor patio. Lightly stained wood tables with colorful chairs occupy most of the indoor dining area. Off to the side is a cute study nook with smaller tables and simple seating. It’s the perfect spot for professionals or students that need somewhere to sit, sip a beverage, and work away from distractions. The covered patio is the perfect place to have brunch and read a book or catch up with friends.
Originally, when I sat down with Mags and Lena to discuss my business venture, I flashed them a horribly drawn concept sketch. Talked animatedly about every idea I’d come up with and why I thought it would work. Between my business and culinary degrees and the passion vibrating in my soul, I had every confidence Java and Teas Me would be a success. I refused to believe otherwise.
Thank goodness, my best friends thought the same and signed on as my business partners. Java and Teas Me wouldn’t be what it is today without the two of them at my side. They are my glue as much as I am theirs.
I wipe down a table then organize the condiment station in the center. Once the sweetener packets and shaker jars are tidy, I inspect the vacant indoor tables before heading to the patio.
The spring air warms my skin as I greet patrons. I clear and wipe down a vacated table. Setting the dishes in the tub near the garbage bin, I survey the patio one last time. As my eyes roam the tables closest to the street, I stop breathing when a man comes into view.
No way. Not possible. My eyes must be playing tricks.
Hecannotbe here.
I blink several times as if I am having some sort of episode.I wish. I’d rather have a fit than deal with this.
My eyelids cramp, so I stop blinking. Stepping back, I try to blend into the wall. Make myself a chameleon against the brick—which is downright impossible. As best I can, I make myself small. I should go inside, but my legs refuse to budge.
On the sidewalk across the street, peering through the window of For The Love of Paws, he stands there with a gentle smile on his lips. Lips I have kissed.
Without thinking, I lift a hand and press fingers to my lips, remembering the bruising kisses those lips once delivered. Memorable kisses. On my lips and skin and…
I drop my hand and shake off the memory.
Get it together, Lessa. No romance, just fun. Remember?
“Ugh,” I groan and wander back inside.
When I step behind the service counter and deposit the towel in the bucket, I tell Mandi, “If you need me, I’ll be in the office.”
She nods. “Cool.”
Not that I have an abundance of tasks to do in the office at the moment—every single detail of this business gets detailed and broken down into days and time slots. Right now would not be one of my typical office times.
Regardless, I will find something to do. Even if that means reorganizing the paper clips and sticky notes. Sharpening pencils and filling the business card holder I purchased months ago. Surfing the web for new menu ideas. Could always start the next stock order list. Write the next schedule. Straighten and face the bills in petty cash. Count the coins.
Four piles of sorted paper clips later, a knock sounds on the office door.
“It’s open.”
The door opens and Mandi steps in with a glowing smile on her face. Hiring her had been a great choice. She may be young, but she is pure sunshine. Exactly what the customers should see when they walk through the front door.
“Hey, Lessa. Sorry to interrupt.”
“No worries. What’s up?”
Mandi stands silent in the doorway, her smile falling away as a frown takes its place and she fidgets with the strands on her apron. The look doesn’t match the young lady I know. Restless and dejected are not traits I’d use to describe Mandi, and I don’t want to start. Whatever brought her to the office, it can’t be good.
“There’s an angry customer out front. Says I purposely spilled coffee on her white top.” She worries her lower lip. “Swear it was an accident. I stubbed my toe on the rubber mat with the coffee in my hand and I couldn’t help it. I tried to steer it away from her and—”
I hold up my hand and halt her ramble. If I didn’t, Mandi would apologize and defend herself until her lips turned blue. To the wrong person.
Mandi has worked here long enough that I have a firm grasp of her integrity and personality. She goes out of her way to help everyone. Is always the happiest person in the room. And seeing her down and panicky upsets me.
I rise from the desk and come to stand beside her, resting my hands on her shoulders. “Mandi, I will handle this. Comes with the job. Don’t you let it bog you down.” I dip my head to make eye contact with her. “Okay?”
She worries her lip again then nods. “Okay.”
