Chapter Three - Mia
It takes several nickels and a little fighting with the paper feed on the old printer in the library, but I get my resume printed and head back to the chocolate shop just after they open. I’m still determined to make this day a new start for my life, even if my run-in with that awful Jacob is still playing on loop in my memory. I can’t get his terrible attitude out of my head. I’ve known all sorts of men in the city, but I don’t know what sort of person behaves that way toward a complete stranger. What sort of man is that rude to a woman in a way that isn’t connected to sleazy pickup lines while trying to buy you a drink at the bar or not calling you about a second date?
I hate that I can’t get his handsome face out of my head, either. I hate that a small part of me keeps thinking, in spite of everything, that he was the kind of attractive man I wouldn’t say no to if he tried to buy me a drink. If he’d been nicer if I’d met him under different circumstances.
I know I should let it go, but it’s all still bothering me as I put on my best smile and step into the chocolate shop.
“Hello there,” I call to the man behind the counter. “I’d like to talk to the owner about the job opening.”
“That would be me,” the older gentleman says with a smile, stepping out to shake my hand. He’s got a red apron tied around his waist, and his eyes look warm and kind.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand. “I’m Mia.”
“Well, well. Lovely to meet you, Mia,” he says. “You can call me Martin.”
“Do you have time to talk now?” I say, smiling. “I brought my resume along with me.” The shop smells amazing, like warm, buttery chocolate and roasting candied nuts.
“Now should work, I reckon,” Martin says, reaching for the resume I hand him and scanning over it. “Are you new in town, dear?”
“As of yesterday,” I say, nodding. “I just moved.”
“I don’t see this kind of resume every day,” Martin says, raising an eyebrow at me curiously.
“Thank you very much,” I say.
“When you walked in, I thought you were one of those college kids in for work over the break, but you’ve just got quite the baby face, haven’t you?” Martin says, still scanning my resume. I laugh. I think Martin might be of that age where everyone who is under forty and an adolescent looks like a college kid to him, but I’m flattered regardless.
“I hear that sometimes,” I say.
“Can I ask why you’d want to work somewhere like this after all these fancy jobs and titles? I’m afraid you might be a bit overqualified for the job,” Martin says.
“I moved here because this town means a lot to me,” I tell him. “It’s where my grandparents got married, and they loved it here. My grandmother loved chocolate – making it almost as much as eating it,” I say, chuckling, “and I used to help her when I’d stay with them. So, this shop makes me think of her. It makes me feel like I’m in my grandma’s kitchen again, like a little girl. It makes me happy just being here in a way all those jobs never could.”
“Chocolate does tend to have that effect on people,” Martin says, smiling fondly. “But you don’t think you’d be bored working here?”
“Not for a single minute,” I say, grinning back at him, and I mean it.
“Do you remember any of it? How to make the chocolate or any of the recipes she used?” Martin asks.
“Not really,” I admit, “but I’m a fast learner, so I’m sure it’ll come back to me.”
“And you don’t mind that it’s a bit of a pay cut, I’m sure?” Martin says, raising an eyebrow at me. “You must’ve been making much more in the advertising field.”
“Not at all,” I say. The place I’m renting here is so cheap I can hardly believe it, and everything in town seems so much more affordable than the city already.”
“Well, what I’m looking for right now is a weekday shift leader. I need someone to open the shop, to help run the back, answer the phones, send out orders, ring up customers, and supervise some of the high school kids who work the register. I’ll be here to help most days, but I need someone I can trust to be here without me. Does that still sound like something you’d be interested in?” Martin asks.
“That sounds great,” I say. “I worked in a bookstore during high school, so I know how to run a cash register, and I’m excellent on the phone and with customers.”
Martin chuckles again, and I wonder if I’m coming on too strong, too overenthusiastic. I know I tend to do that at times. “I’d ask you more standard interview things or have you fill out our paper application, but like I said, you’re overqualified, so I don’t think I need to,” he says. “I’d be looking for someone to start this week, so if you’re available, I think we might be able to work something out.”
“Thank you so much,” I say, breathing a little sigh of relief and reaching out to shake his hand again. “I’m available as soon as you need me.”
“Glad to hear it,” Martin says. “Well, then. Welcome aboard.”
“I’m really excited to be here,” I tell him because it’s true. This is how I’d hoped this day would be. Not Jacob and his one-word grunted answers but nice people, a slower pace, and a fresh new start. I think my grandparents would approve, loving the idea of me working in a chocolate shop like this with someone like Martin.
“Let’s get you set up with some paperwork, and you can tell me all about your grandparents while you fill them out,” Martin says. “If they spent a lot of time here, it’s possible I knew them.”
I spend the rest of the morning in the shop, filling out tax forms and contact information while telling Martin about my grandparents with that warm, sweet smell lingering in the air the whole time. The more it swirls around us, the more it pushes the unpleasant thoughts of Jacob and of my old life in the city out of my mind almost entirely.