Chapter Thirteen: Adjustments
Rachel crept into the house, hoping that her mother hadn’t yet noticed how late she was.
“Where have you been?” a sharp voice asked from the living room.
No such luck.
“Umm, hi mom. I picked us up some fajitas.” She said in lieu of an answer. Her mother loved Sergio’s fajitas. But she liked to pretend that Rachel bought them from the Mexican place down the street. That way she didn’t have to acknowledge that ‘those gays’ had any positive attributes. Even if it was just making excellent food.
“I already ate,” Sarah Hart said.
“Oh. Well okay I’ll just put them in the refrigerator for later.” Rachel said knowing that her mother would eat them before she slept.
“You didn’t answer the question!” her mother said making Rachel’s heart sink, “You think just because I let you travel out of the country that you can come and go as you please now? Leave me here, helpless and alone?”
“Well…not exactly alone,” Mrs. Blue, who lived next door and usually came to sit with Sarah if Rachel was working late said.
“Yes well, if I fell or something you could hardly pick me up could you?” Sarah complained. Mrs. Blue was quite old herself if still spry. She cackled with derision, “Sarah, it’s not like Rachel could carry you anyway. I mean what is she? A hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet?”
“I’m quite strong though,” Rachel felt compelled to interject.
“Psha. Go on and eat your dinner girl. Your mama and I were in the middle of a game.” Mrs. Blue said.
Rachel went leaving them to continue their usual game of Scrabble. They were both chronic cheaters and the game tended to get ugly with pointed accusations and angry silences. Whoever lost then challenged the winner to a rematch and they just kept going round and round the mulberry bush. Rachel divided the fajitas, taking two and leaving two for her mother. She sat down at the kitchen table, going over the contracts Brendan had left. She had called Pierce on her way home and he’d asked her to drop off the papers to his office the next morning. Meanwhile, she thought she might skim through them and try to understand what Brendan was offering.
She almost gasped aloud when she saw the amount he was willing to put in. It was more than twice what she’d asked for. Way too generous unless he wanted more of the business than she was able to give away.
She read through the terms of the contract, realizing that from what she could understand, he wasn’t just some love smitten idiot throwing money at her. He had some very specific plans for benefiting from her expansion including first refusal should she decide to sell and a five year deadline to get the business to profitability otherwise she would forfeit ownership. She took a deep breath feeling challenged rather than scared. If she could not get the business profitable within five years, she’d deserve to lose it.
She saw that all management decisions were to be made by her.
Her.
Not her mother.
That would give her a measure of control she hadn’t been able to wrest from Sarah Hart’s hands. She wondered if her mother would agree to it. Her eyes went back to the sum of money on offer.
She could not see how they could possibly turn it down. They needed this.
***
“This is a good deal,” Pierce said, surprise in his voice once he was through reading. Rachel had sat in silence, leg jiggling with nerves while he read. She felt something loosen within her at his words and she looked up at him, gratitude in her eyes.
“Do you think mama’ll go for it?” she asked.
“She’d be a fool not to,” he replied. Which was not a yes.
“So you’ll talk to her?”
“I will indeed. Leave it to me,” Pierce said with a confident smile and she nodded with relief. Now all she had to do was go for dinner with Brendan without her mother having chickens. She stood up, hurrying out of the offices of Alexander and Murphy and hoofing it as fast as she could to the coffee shop. While she trusted Angela to open on time, she still felt bad about running late, even though it was for a good cause. Plus Angela was still in the dog house as far as she was concerned so she didn’t want her feeling too much at home in Rachel’s role. Especially if Brendan decided to drop by this morning like he’d said he might.
She walked into the back of the coffee shop and the cinnamon smell of baked good immediately assailed her nostrils. This was followed by the intoxicating scent of coffee beans and Rachel felt herself relax for the first time since last night. She kicked off her shoes and slipped on the slides she usually wore while at work. Then she grabbed her apron and proceeded to see what was happening in her establishment.
Angela’s face lit up when she caught sight of Rachel. She waved, beaming smile on her face as she stepped aside for Rachel to take over the till.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said, “I’m overdue for a break.”
Rachel smiled tightly thinking to herself that she wasn’t even that late. Angela hadn’t worked long enough to need a break. But she didn’t say anything, too busy taking the next order from the next customer in line.
The day was busy and bustling for which Rachel was thankful. Her eyes couldn’t help straying every few minutes to the door though, hoping to see a tall red-gold headed guy walking in with a smile. There were plenty of tall guys, and some of them even had red hair. But never the right one.
“Oh Hart, you got it so bad,” she murmured to herself as she rubbed at her toes during her break. Instead of going outside to take in some fresh air while she ate her donut and coffee, she was sitting in her office, from which she could watch the customer traffic.
Barry and Sergio had come by earlier to pick up their daily order and they’d had a nice chat about nothing in particular but she was still curiously restless and unable to settle to anything.
“If this is how it feels being in a relationship, you can take it,” she murmured morosely as she shuffled papers on her desk.
“What? Did you say something?” Miguel asked from the doorway, startling her quite badly.
“Er, no…I’m okay. What do you want?” she said a bit more bluntly than she’d intended to.
“Just wanted to remind you that we need to replace the filters tonight before we close.”
On Thursdays Rachel usually closed a bit later to go over and put away the order with Miguel. She was good at keeping an eye on inventory as was Miguel. So in between customers they rotated the coolers, the fridges, supplies, and the stockroom.
First in first out.
Goods were stored by sell by date. The older goods came forward while the newer ones were in the back. Rachel made sure that the milk to be used daily was on the cusp of expiry or close to it. While it wasn’t an emergency if they ran out of milk now and then, the price shot up if Rachel ordered too little. If she had to buy from the store, a block away, each gallon cost her three dollars and twenty five cents, but when she ordered in bulk through her supplier out in Brooklyn, gallons went for two dollars each. It didn’t make sense to pay more for milk while also paying more for payroll because of some preventable yet unforeseen circumstance.
Her week’s order was accompanied by a leaking box and a strange smell emanating from the middle of the pallet. Angela hadn’t taken much notice of it because Rachel guessed it wasn’t her job. She hadn’t been in to assess how the customers were taking it when they opened but after her break she was serving one of her regulars, who, holding her nose complained that if they were trying a new roast, the attempt wasn’t working and they should bin it, before the smell seeped into everything else.
One thing turned into another and Rachel left her office to tend the counter. It was normal for the evening line to form at around five thirty until about six every day. That was a sign of good business and heaven knew they needed to show that they were a good business right now. It was unusual for the line to grow three times bigger than normal before forming a small eye of the storm effect. Angela hurried to wipe down the counters and replenish their classic brew while Rachel rushed to wipe down the counter while taking and filling orders, clean the steaming wands, mixing more mocha, and making more whipped cream.
Annabel, a high class escort from down the street, wanted her usual caramel macchiato made in an unusual way.
Freeman who came in after an exhausting day sitting in the park, requested six lattes to go, plus three bagels--all sliced and toasted. He had a large family, he said, every time.
Phillip, a PA at Alexander and Murphy, wondered aloud why they don’t offer grilled cheese sandwiches but ordered a coffee anyway as well as one to go – for his boss.
The coolers were in need of a wipe down. Something had spilled way in the back and Rachel got a nice whiff of it every time she opened them to get a new gallon of milk. The pallet also still smelled. People came through, tourists, regulars, new customers, folks who had only ever experienced gas station coffee or the unremarkable brew they managed to concoct from their Keurigs.
On their street and its surroundings many people came to the Split Bean as part of their daily routine. As they got on with their lives they still managed to stop by for their favorite order.
One Ca phe sua da.
One Carajillo
Two Shin Shin Coffees.
Three Frappuccinos.
Four Greek frappe coffees please.
Four Seventy-five.
Two dollars fifty.
Apple walnut and oat bars?
Lemon bars?
Peanut lentil cookies?
Ricotta and honey baked cheesecake.
Miguel’s creations managed to tempt each customer to have a snack with their drink. He made the bagels; cinnamon rolls cookies, pastries, and brownies, filling their shop with the scent of baked-goods goodness. Rachel then made everything sound like it was completely necessary regardless of the drink being ordered. Not even the bottle of water for a dollar fifty escaped from a recommendation of a tin of peppermint or a bag of chips.
Rachel couldn’t make any profit if she didn’t pour her heart and soul into it.
She made sure to dole out a dollar here, two dollars there as needed. And never forgot the tips. She had grown up knowing how to curbing waste; use whatever she had on hand to get what she needed. It gave her an instinct for knowing when to expand items or focus on improving what they already offered. She made sure to understand the intricacies to payroll and morale.
Not only that but also inventory, scheduling, orders, legal, human resources, marketing, investments, and the rent.
Rachel took care of it all.
She knew the prices to everything in hundreds of combinations so well she could recite them in her sleep. The first year after she took over management, money had been so tight that it was just her and Miguel for the majority of the time. Their selection of coffee and snacks had been limited. Every time a gallon or two was wasted or there was need for a refill because they ran out early it affected the shop profits. Those had been some lean times.
But they were on their way now.