Christian clamps down on his bottom lip, pausing for an insanely long time. I actually toss a look back to Arielle to make sure I understood her, but she only nods back to Christian. Finally, when I’m assuming, Christian lost his voice, he burps out, “Do you want your job back?”
Arielle elbows him on the arm. He snorts, pinching his lips together tightly, but sputters out, “Please.”
I bat my eyes. “I’d love that.”
“Great, have a nice night with Mr. Murder Claws.” He turns on his heel and heads straight for the stairs.
“Night.” Arielle flashes a wave at me as she pinches back a smile and follows him.
Snuggling Mr. Noodles in my chest tighter, I press a kiss to the top of his head as I shut the door, and head back to my futon, chuckling.
twenty
Christian
With my hands shoved in my coat, I march up the sidewalk to my store, slowing right before I reach the door.There are people inside!I can see them through the window. Not just a couple of people, either. I jerk open the door and plow in, scanning the rows of tables, all filled with customers already served.
It’s the very next day after I struck that truce with Portia. I struggle to open my eyes wider, taking long strides to the bar where Portia’s steaming milk, a row of six to-go cups lined up ready to fill. Her hair is up in a messy bun on top of her head. She also has a funky wrap headband thing tied around her head. Festive snowflake earrings dangle from each ear, and she has a full smile on her face as she greets me. “Good morning, Christian.”
My eyes scan the messy counter dotted with drips of milk in random places and a small pile of spilled coffee grounds underneath the grinder. In the corner, the trash is nearlyoverflowing with empty milk containers, all evidence she hasn’t had even a small break in traffic. Normally, I loathe mess, and hate clutter. After days of everything being nothing but shiny clean, this mess is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Mess means money! Portia standing in the middle of the mess makes her the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.“What did you do?”
“I sent a text to all my clients, inviting them back.” Portia reaches forward, grabs the mocha sauce and pumps it into a cup. “I explained everything was a mix-up.”
I’m at a loss for words. These really are my customers. El was right about bringing Portia back. She brought all my people back with her. A man in a business suit walks up to the counter, his face beaming at Portia. “Glad to see you back,” he greets her.
“Good to see you, too, Trey.” She beams at him, while adding lids to all the cups, and setting them on the bar for customers waiting off to the side. “Do you want your usual?” she asks over her shoulder, while she grabs the last two cups and places them on the counter for pickup.
“Yeah, please.”
I stand back as she goes to the tablet, punching in his order without confirming what it is. He opens his wallet, pulls out a ten-dollar bill, and doesn’t wait for change. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since I arrived.
The door opens and more people file in, lining up. My eyes well with happy tears as I honestly was doubting there were people in this town who drank coffee. What I didn’t see was their loyalty to Portia. They hadn’t had time to get to know me, or my Coffee Loft.
I thought I had to do this all on my own, building up my dream store. I almost missed out on the best gift of all. Portia is a customer service ninja, taking orders with one hand while waving goodbye to happy customers with the other, calling themall by their first names. I stumble behind her, inserting myself into the happy chaos, ready to fill her orders.
We say nothing about the past awkwardness as we fall into an orderly rhythm of her taking orders, and me making the coffees, all while the traffic pours through the door all morning. It’s after eleven before we get our first lull, and I’m able to take two full bags of trash outside. Hugging the bags close to my chest as if they are loving pets, I’ve never been so happy to haul trash out in my life. I’m humming gleefully on my way back inside, right as Portia unties her apron and stuffs it in the laundry bin.
Dirty aprons and rags! Another delightful sight I want to cry out to heaven in gratitude. It all means I’m finally making money. “That’s it for my shift.” She grabs the stuffed tip jar and dumps it on the counter, quickly counting the money into two piles.
“Take it all.” I place my hand on the pile closest to me and scoot it all into the other pile. "I don’t deserve any of this.”
She hikes a brow while her hand hovers over the uncounted money. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I am.” Usually I’m stubborn to admit my mistakes, but I’m so ecstatic to finally see customers that I don’t hold back. “I’m truly sorry about everything, and I’m grateful you gave me a second chance.”
She scoots all the money off the counter, stacking the bills neatly into a pile. I’m a little jealous as I see a few twenties flash, and by the height of that pile, it looks like it could pay a few bills. Clearly, her customers came out in droves to support her. Humbled, I stay mute as she finishes stowing her money and returns the empty jar to its spot on the bar.
“Arielle gave me part of her morning shift tomorrow, too. Apparently, she’s not a morning person, so I’ll see you then.” She pivots, aiming for the door.
Before I know what I’m doing, I call out, “Wait a minute.”
She does the look back. The one you see on hair commercials. With her hair piled high on her head, a few fallen strands framing her face, and she perks a feather bold eyebrow. “What do you need?”
“Ah, just to thank you.”
Her lips curl into a brilliant, sassy grin, laced with the perfect balance of joy and attitude. “The pleasure is all mine.” When she spins on her heel, I’m left with the impact of her smile, sending aftershocks right to my heart. I grab my chest and press my hand over my heart to steady it’s pounding beats. What is going on?
