When I started, I was very ambitious and baked all my own breads as well, but that proved to be too labor intensive.I ended up ordering in from Crumbs, a local, artisan bakery with whom I was able to negotiate a great deal.It leaves me more time to spend on salads for the sandwiches and whatever special I am serving that day.
Then after lunch, I normally do my ordering and administration, and when I close the doors at five, I’m dead on my feet.
I haven’t had much of a life since I opened Strange Brew eight years ago, working thirteen- or fourteen-hour days, but it has been a labor of love building this place into what it is now.At least these days, with Lola running things so I can take a day, sometimes two, off every week, I have some downtime.
Tomorrow is Sunday, my standard day off.Normally, I’d be looking forward to the break, but at the moment I’d rather be busy.Less time to think and worry.
I’ve barely booted up the computer in my office when I hear the back door fall shut.It sounds like Lola is intercepting whoever walked in, but a few moments later I hear footsteps coming down the hall.
“Hey.”
Hugo Alexander, Carson’s dad, pokes his head in the door.
“Hi.”
I’m annoyed I sound breathless whenever I talk to him.It’s ridiculous.Sure, the man looks more like a reincarnated Viking the older he gets, but I’ve known him forever, and he’s not the only handsome man in town.He just appears to be the only one who affects my vocal cords.It’s aggravating.
“Are you sure about this?”he asks, obviously referring to his offspring working here.
“Positive.He’s a good kid, Hugo, he’ll do fine.”
He runs a hand through his unruly, straw-colored hair laced with a decent amount of silver.
“I know, it’s just…we’re friends, and I’d hate to see him fuck up and?—”
“And what?”I interrupt sharply, for some reason extra annoyed by the friend label I’m slapped with.“You really think I’d be so petty; I’d take that out on you?Please, you should know me better.”
He looks appropriately sheepish and maybe a little surprised at the edge in my voice.
“No, I just meant…” He stalls before continuing with, “I don’t want things awkward.”
I snort before getting up from my chair so I’m not looking up at him.Well, I guess I’m still looking up at him, since he’s a towering six foot three to my modest five two, but standing makes me feel taller.
“Things would only be awkward if you make them so,” I return pointedly.
He narrows his eyes on me, scanning my body down and up again.
“Are you okay?”
Instantly self-conscious at his question, I run my hands down my flour-dusted apron.
“I’m fine, why?”
“You don’t look fine.”
Hugo
Smooth.
Her sharp, “Thanks for sharing that observation.Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do,” served as an effective dismissal.
Apparently, I’d already put both my feet in my mouth and I figured my safest bet would be to make myself scarce and try again another time.
I don’t know why, but I seem to be making an art out of saying the wrong thing to her lately.To my recollection, this was never an issue before, but the past several months I can’t seem to say the right thing.
After a quick goodbye for my son with a warning to behave, I walk out to my cruiser, frustrated and brooding.Funny, because I was in the best of moods when I pulled in here five minutes ago.I’d planned to beat the crowd and score a couple of coffees and some pastries to take to the station, but I’m empty-handed when I slide behind the wheel.I highly doubt Bess would be willing to serve me early after I pissed her off.
“Who the hell pissed in your Wheaties this early?”Brenda Silvari, our office manager, asks as I walk into the small office kitchen, looking for a hit of caffeine.
