They're talking in low voices. Luke is relaxed, gesturing with his coffee cup. Ethan is still. Listening. His eyes flick to me once and then away.
I ring up the order and start another pot of coffee. The shop is getting busier. Saturday morning rush. I should ask Luke to leave so I can focus. I don't.
More customers come. The line grows. I work the register while keeping track of inventory and trying not to notice Ethan sitting ten feet away drinking coffee I made for him.
A woman orders two dozen mixed donuts for her kid's soccer team. I'm boxing them up when I feel someone beside me.
Ethan.
"Need help?" he asks.
"I've got it."
"You've got a line out the door."
He's right. I glance at the growing crowd and make a decision I'll probably regret.
"Fine. You can box."
He moves behind the counter before Luke can object. I show him where the boxes are, how to arrange the donuts so they don't get crushed. His shoulder brushes mine when he reaches for a glazed.
"Sorry," he mutters.
"It's fine."
It's not fine. Nothing about this is fine.
We work in tandem. I take orders and money. He boxes and hands them across the counter. We develop a rhythm without speaking. He knows what I need before I ask for it.
Luke watches from his table with an expression I can't read.
The rush continues for an hour. Ethan doesn't complain or slow down. He just works, steady and efficient. When we finally hit a lull, I realize the display case is nearly empty.
"I need to make more," I tell him.
"I'll keep the register."
"You don't know how."
"It's not complicated. I'll figure it out."
I should argue. Instead, I retreat to the kitchen and start a new batch. Through the service window, I can see Ethan at the register. A customer is explaining something, he nods, rings it up, and gives the correct change.
Of course he can work a register. Of course he can do this without training.
I focus on the dough, the measuring and mixing and kneading. I keep my hands busy, and my mind blank. It almost works.
When I emerge with fresh donuts, Luke is at the counter talking to Ethan.
"I'm telling you, the transmission is shot," Luke is saying.
"Have you taken it to Miller's?"
"They quoted me two grand."
Ethan shakes his head. "Too much. I'll look at it."
"You don't have to do that."
