Zara took a step closer into my personal space, something I wasn’t used to after growing up in New York. Taking my hand in hers, she said, “Look, sweetie, I’m here for you. We’ve all made mistakes in our past. I know that better than anyone because I’ve made a few of my own. So, when you’re ready and want to chat, let me know. I have years of experience of listening to other people’s problems. Ya know?”
“I’m good. I swear.”
“I know, honey. Seriously, though, think about it. You should get to know Gigi. That girl went through hell, and I’ll bet you two have more in common than you think. Now, go take a shower and put your feet up after a busy shift, and take care of you.”
Well, when I went home, I skipped the shower, but I did prop my feet up while doing some online window shopping. I needed a new car, so there were no new shoes in my future, but a girl could browse while she ate her ramen noodles.
If my friends from Pressman could see me now.
* * *
That’s why when I arrived at the Bean the next day, I was dressed to impress. It was the afternoon shift, and Rita, one of our regulars, eyed me from the peach sofa she called hers. I learned this the hard way when I first started coming in and dared to sit there one day. Rita not so politely kicked me out of “her seat,” and I never attempted to sit there again.
All the attention on my little-more-done-up look made me uncomfortable, but I kind of hoped Ben would come back in, so I’d gone for the kill. I’d lightly curled my hair in soft waves and wore my plaid apron (another splurge purchase during one of my online binges). Even if he didn’t come in, maybe my improved look would help fill the tip jar. After all, I had my eye on a used Hyundai.
As I picked at the new blueberry-lemon scone before my shift started, Zara side-eyed me. “You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
“You going somewhere later?”
Shaking my head, I muttered, “Taking pride in my work,” then plastered a smile on my face and took my place behind the bar.
While I struggled with the correct number of pumps for each beverage, my bar was backed up as usual. Closing my eyes for a second, I took a deep breath and reminded myself this was Vermont, not New York. Despite the one uppity customer earlier in the week, I was doing this. On my own. Period.
“Hey, Murph. I don’t think you’re supposed to sleep on the job.”
Ben’s gravelly tone, laced with welcome humor, knocked me out of my stupor. Slowly opening my eyes, I shrugged. “I was meditating for a minute.”
“Maybe you can do that after you make my drink,” he said, pointing to his reusable mug in the middle of the lineup.
“I can’t move your drink up. If I do, I’ll have half of Vermont after me. They’re vicious here. Vermonters make New Yorkers look easygoing.”
Smiling big, I grabbed the next mug in line, this one a reusable ceramic Bean-issued mug for a regular customer. A café au lait, thankfully. That drink I could make easily. As I worked, I felt Ben’s eyes on me.
“Seemed like your customer the other day was quite the disgruntled iced-coffee drinker,” Ben said.
I glanced at him to see a twinkle in his eye, but I couldn’t tell if it was snarky or genuine. Willing myself to stay focused, I made the café au lait and moved on to a damn iced latte.
I prayed to any and every god who was listening that the aforementioned customer from hell wasn’t back again. Hopefully, she was passing through, staying in one of the expensive inns in a neighboring town. When I called out the latte, I was relieved when someone else came up to claim it. A sweet teenage girl here with her mom.Whew.
Ben was still lurking, but I didn’t know if he wanted to say something more or be sure I wasn’t poisoning his coffee. Deciding not to speculate, I grabbed his stainless Yeti mug, poured in three shots of espresso, and added hot water.
“Here you go.” I held Ben’s cup over the bar for him, breaking Bean rules.
“Thanks,” he said in a hushed tone.
“No prob.” I decided it was best not to beat myself up over the past when it came to him, nor to think about a future friendship with him. Both were a waste of energy.
Surprising me, Ben asked, “Do you get a break at all?”
“Um, I do. Usually once during a shift. They treat us very well, if you’re wondering.”
Wishing I could let down my ponytail and tousle my hair, but then I’d have to wash my raw hands again, I busied myself with wiping down the bar before grabbing another cup.
Score.Another café au lait, this one in a to-go cup.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Ben said as he moved closer. “I don’t doubt Zara is good to you.”
