Four
Zoe
I felt a warm band of sunshine across my cheek and smiled softly. Damn, that felt good. Then my eyes slammed open, and I shot out of bed. The sun was out, which meant I was late. Most of my business came from the morning coffee rush, which meant I had less than an hour to open up the shop if I wanted to make money today.
After a quick shower, I walked into my bedroom to find my phone. It wasn’t in there, and it wasn’t in the bathroom, either, which meant that I’d have to go around searching the entire house for it.
I needed to call Chloe. Since I was running late, she would be at the bakery before me. I’d given her an extra pair of keys for the shop, and I had to call her right away to make sure she had them with her this morning. That way, she could start prepping for the morning rush instead of waiting outside for me to show up.
Everything would be fine if I could just find my damn phone. It wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. I even looked through the couch cushions. If I didn’t hurry up and find that thing, I was going to be out fifteen hundred dollars, all because I slept in too long. That could not happen.
“Ugh,” I groaned and walked back into the dining room. There was a lump sitting under a stack of sale papers in the middle of the table. I pushed the papers aside frantically. The phone was underneath them, and it had a full charge. I offered up a little prayer of gratitude. Finally, something was going right for me.
I dialed Chloe’s number. There was no way she’d ignore my call, not now. It didn’t ring. Instead, a mechanical voice came on the line saying, “We’re sorry. The voicemail box you’ve reached hasn’t been setup yet. Goodbye.”
“Where are you?” I texted Chloe and set my phone down to wait for a response while I finished getting ready. Then I walked back in to check my phone. Nothing. The screen was still blank. That meant that Chloe had slept in, too, and we were going to lose quite a bit of money this morning.
I entertained the notion of taking the time out of Chloe’s pay. She deserved it. She’d been late twice in one week, but I couldn’t hurt her like that. We were both struggling together, and Chloe predated the bakery. We’d been friends since high school, so she deserved a lot more leeway than that. I decided to let it go. This was my fault, after all.
I was the one who stayed up all night looking up recipes. I had the perfect apricot streusel recipe ready for that afternoon, but with all of the work I had to do, I probably wouldn’t get a chance to make it.
I tried calling Chloe a couple more times while I was wading through traffic. There was no answer. She must’ve left her phone off of the charger all night. I was going to kill her and put her head on a stake in the kitchen with a sign that said, “Problem Employee.”
This wasn’t just the morning coffee rush. Monday was our biggest day, when people finally climbed out of their hangovers and went back to work. They’d come in, stiff-faced and ravenous, and start barking orders. I was supposed to be helping them right now. Instead, I was six lights away, about ready to get out and walk.
When I pulled in, I didn’t waste a single second. I hopped out of the car, opened the front gate, and walked to the back. Normally, I liked to get there early so I could take my time and make sure things looked nice. Food service was all about the ambiance. Nobody would eat here if it looked like a run-down cafeteria, so I took pride in the shop. I set out flowers and made sure cakes and pies were always on display. I wanted people to feel welcome here. I didn’t want them to just order their food and leave. I wanted them to stick around with their friends and talk over coffee and muffins, or sit in one of our booths with a newspaper all morning.
I wanted Zoe’s to become a meeting spot, where couples would sit and eat together and where kids would go after school. Then people would remember it. It would become part of their daily routine, and they’d keep coming back for more.
I needed that loyal customer base if I was going to maintain a steady stream of income for the bakery, but that kind of stability took time. Time I wasn’t sure I had. Most days, just keeping the lights on and the doors open seemed impossible. Everything with the shop hung by a thin, fragile thread, and every day was a struggle to keep it from breaking. There was no such thing as certainty in this business, no way of knowing what the next day would bring. I wasn’t comfortable with that.
I kept hoping that something would happen. There would be a parade just outside the shop, or one of the chain stores would close. Then people would come rushing through the door all of a sudden, money in hand. But that was just a fantasy. Nobody was going to find out about my shop unless I found a way to tell them about it. That would take years of long, hard work. I could do the work. I just wasn’t sure I could keep the place open long enough.
It wasn’t like my bakery was doing that badly. We were located downtown, right in the middle of the office district. This was prime real estate for a bakery like mine, and we did a decent amount of business. I just couldn’t stop worrying about everything. I tried to calm myself down and munch on a muffin while I waited for customers, but I just wound up staring at the door praying that somebody would come in.
Every shadow that passed by was another potential customer, another reason to look around and make sure that everything was okay. I made sure there were no crumbs on the counter, and I wiped the tables down again, even though I knew they were already clean. Eventually, I was forced to admit that everything was perfect. I went back to the register and took a bite of my muffin. Some of the cream cheese icing came off and stuck to my top lip. I was searching for a napkin to wipe it away when a man wearing a business suit walked in.
“Oh God,” I said, turning around in the hopes he wouldn’t notice. I grabbed a napkin and scrubbed at my face, but it was too late.
“Am I interrupting?” the man asked from behind me with laughter in his voice.
I was blushing when I turned back to him. “Sorry. What can I get you?”
“That muffin looks pretty good. A little messy, but good. Is that cream cheese icing?”
“It is.” I was beet red now.
“Perfect. I think I’ll get that.” A playful smile curved his lips.
“Okay. One ginger spice muffin. Anything else?”
“That’ll be all.”
I took a glance at him before I walked in back to get his muffin. He was tall and blond, cute, but a little lanky for my taste. I brought his muffin back out. “Here ya go.”
He paid with his card and signed the receipt with his phone number. When he turned to leave, I scratched it out and put the receipt in the till. It was a boost of confidence, but he wasn’t my type.
Shortly after he left, Chloe finally made her appearance. She was wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses when she walked in.
“You’re late,” I announced and came around to give her a hug.
“I know.”
“Let me see those sunglasses.” I stepped back and glared at her.
“Why? They’re just sunglasses.” Chloe pulled away and started to walk to the back. I followed her.
“Those aren’t just sunglasses. If they were, you’d have left them in the car like you always do.”
“Oh, come on. I can’t change my style up a bit?”
“You got shit-housed last night.”
“I did not.” She was carrying an energy drink.
“Tell me what happened. Come on. I’m dying for actual human conversation.” I laughed.
“You sure it’s not because you’re mad that I came in late?”
“That too. But honestly, Chloe, I’m dying. All I can think about is this friggin’ bakery.”
“Oh, I know.” Chloe took her apron off the hook and tied it on. “I’ve been telling you that a long time now. All you ever do is worry about the shop, and you refuse to do anything else with your time.”
“I won’t budge.” I went into the walk-in and pulled out a crate of blueberries while Chloe struggled to get the cauldron-sized mixing bowl out from underneath the sink.
“That’s your problem,” Chloe called out. “You’re so focused on your career that you’re ignoring everything else.”
“This was not the conversation I was hoping for.”
“And that’s why you’re lonely,” Chloe said when I walked out with the blueberries.
I pulled a bowl down from the shelf above the sink, along with a box full of sugar. “I found a recipe that I want to try out.”
“Really?” Chloe let me change the subject.
“Yep, apricot streusel.”
“I don’t know. It sounds a little weird.”
“Not if you do it right, it’s not.” I pulled out my phone to show Chloe the recipe.
“That does sound good.”
“But we can’t make it,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re going to be baking scones all day.”
Chloe wrinkled her nose. “It’s cause I’m late, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay. I was late, too.”
Chloe laughed. “I refuse to believe that.”
The doorbell rang, so I walked out to help the customers. Two twins stood in the shop, both with black shaggy hair. They looked like they were in their early twenties. One stared at the menu, and the other stared at me with a grin from ear to ear.
“Hi. How can I help you guys?”
The twin staring at the menu on the wall over my shoulder looked down. His eyes had caught something. I took a quick glance back. Chloe was giving him a seductive smile. They were closing in now, coming closer to the counter. The twin who’d been smiling at me leaned in. “Just two coffees.”
“That all?” Chloe asked.
I glared at her.
“No,” the other twin said. I waited for him to ask for something else. Instead, he pulled out his phone. “You should give me your number.”
She blushed. “Give me one good reason?”
“A good night out, maybe more. It’s worth the risk.”
The other twin nodded, letting his eyes roll down my body. “We’re heading to the club tomorrow night. You guys should come with us.”
“I don—”
“Definitely.” Chloe pushed me aside to get to the register and pulled off two pieces of receipt tape. She handed one to me, along with a pen. She wasn’t leaving me with any other choice. I could either be rude and lose a pair of customers, or I could put myself on the line for a man I didn’t even know.
“It’ll be fun. Come on.” Chloe handed the man her number.
“All right.” I wrote my number down and handed it to the other twin.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Clarissa,” I said, lying. “Yours?”
“Bryan.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” I shook his hand. “You guys sure you just want the coffee?”
“I’ll try one of these apple scones,” Bryan said.
I bagged one up for him and walked back to the register where Chloe was leaning over the counter, talking to her twin quietly.
I cleared my throat.
“Oh, sorry.” Chloe stepped away from the register so I could get to it, and her twin followed her over the to the pastries. When he stepped aside, I saw Mr. Beetle look in through the window, smoking a rolled cigarette.
“Oh, that’s disgusting.” Chloe pulled a blueberry scone out for her twin and brought it up to the register. “He’s going to stink the whole place up.”
“You want me to get rid of him?” her twin asked.
“No, Brandon. It’s okay. But I’m not helping him.” She turned to me. “I want him gone.”
Banning a customer was against everything I believed in. He had real money, and I needed every cent I could get. “I’ll handle him.”
Mr. Beetle turned around to look inside again then threw his cigarette and leaned back against the wall.
“You sure?” Bryan asked.
“Yeah, I am. He’s never given me any trouble before.”
“All right.” Bryan shrugged. “Are you guys coming tomorrow?”
“We’ll be there,” Chloe said.
Bryan looked at me. He clearly wanted an answer.
“We’ll see.” That was the best he was going to get.
“I’ll text you.” The twins grabbed their bags and walked outside.
“What was that Clarissa crap?” Chloe asked as soon as they were gone.
“What?”
“They were supermodels. What were you thinking?”
“That I don’t know them.”
“Zoe, if you don’t let loose, you’re gonna lose your mind.”
“I just didn’t want to get pressured into getting with some random stranger.”
“Well, what else are you going to do? You’ve gotta get out and meet people. It’s not just about sex either. You’ve gotta network.”
“Chloe…”
“What?”
“Look.” I pointed outside. Mr. Beetle was running up to the twin’s car, his head down like he was ready to headbutt one of them. Then they got in the car, and he headed straight for the back window. The red lights flashed in the back of the sedan. He jumped back and ran over to the front door where he picked up his cigarette butt and lit it.
“All right, that’s it.” Chloe pulled out her phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m calling the cops. He just tried to attack two of our customers.”
“He’s not a criminal. He’s mentally ill.”
“I…” Mr. Beetle walked in the door. Chloe turned around and walked back into the kitchen. “He’s all yours.”
He seemed like the sensitive type, definitely an outcast. I’d always had a soft spot for people like that, but the smell of him was horrific. It was like rotten urine mixed with the festering odor of old sweat and feces. Probably the result of years without showering.
“Hi.” I felt a wad of bile rise up in the back of my throat.
“Hello, Zoe. How are you today?”
“Good. What can I get ya?”
He cocked his head to the side, just like a pigeon, and said, “Well, don’t you want to know how my day went?”
“I hope it’s going well. We have some apple scones if you’d like one.”
He held his head low. “No, no. That’s okay.” He turned around to walk out, then stopped and met my eyes for a second. It was like somebody had thrown a bucket of ice water over my head. There was something in that look.
“Is everything okay?” Chloe stepped out of the kitchen.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said.
“Excuse me, sir…”
I glared at Chloe and whispered through clenched teeth, “Don’t you dare.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Chloe stepped forward defiantly to address Mr. Beetle who was facing the door. “You’re gonna have to leave.”
He spun around, walked right up to her, and said, “You leave. I’m not here for you.”
“Chloe…”
“Fine.” She walked back into the kitchen.
“I’m really sorry about that,” I said.
“It’s fine.” He started looking over the pastries.
“Was there something you wanted?” I asked.
“An apple scone,” he said definitively.
“Coming right up.” I rang him up as fast as I could, with a sweet smile and a touch of compassion.
Chloe walked in as soon as he left. “Did you hear what he said?”
“I don’t wanna think about it. I’m tired, and we have work to do.”
“We always have work to do. It’s nothing but work for you. You need to get out and have some fun. You’ve got cabin fever.”
“You’re right.” I hadn’t done anything for myself in what seemed like decades.
“So, you’re going to the club with me tomorrow, then?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Good.” Chloe laughed, finally satisfied. “Let’s get to work.”