“See, I told you it was worth coming in, Carl!” Either Shelly or Betty whisper shouts.
Wait, what?
What’s worth it? This little show?
I shake myself free of…whatever this is. This is not like me. I’m not actually Mute Little Harper anymore. And I’m not this petty. I’m a capable, if not quite successful, business owner.You areBoss Harper.
I square my shoulders, look him in the eye and try to grin. Or at least not grimace.
“What can I get you?” I ask.
I expect him to gloat. I expect him to beam and tell everyone he’s the champion of our little staring contest. I think Braxton may have actually just declared him so.
But he seems…disappointed?
“Quiches today, please,” he says.
I nod, “Bacon, Spinach or Sausage?”
His eyes sparkle the tiniest bit, like those four words were a special gift just for him.
“A few of each, I suppose, what about—”
Ding!
Everyone turns to the door.
Oh, geez.
It’s a man I don’t recognize. Although he looks just like Santa Claus, and we get a lot of those in December. It’s possible he’s been here before. Still, this is not the best time for an actual customer, or a newcomer or a tourist. The whole freaking town is quiet and staring and just being generally as awkward as can be.
The town studies this new guest. But Aiden studies me.
So, I make a show of smiling wide, “Welcome to the Roasted Chestnut,” I say around the billionaire. “What can I give you, er, get you?”
“Um, a latte…” he stares at the menu for a beat, not noticing my stammering.
I ring up Aiden’s order as Santa Man goes on, ordering another drink and two breakfast sandwiches. He asks me a couple questions that have, thankfully, yes or no answers. Because I am growing more flustered as our town celebrity just stands and stares at me. Meanwhile the entire store filled with people stares at him. Eventually the customer gives Aiden a look and I widen my eyes at him.Time to pay and leave, you’re making it weird!
“Right. Excuse me,” he finally says. Then he steps back, side-eyeing both me and the customer before,finally,he leaves.
Almost everyone follows Aiden out, sad their morning entertainment is over.
I, on the other hand, am almost giddy with relief. I throw in an extra muffin for Santa at no charge, mostly because Aiden would tell me not to, and even make myself one of the mocacchinos Carl ordered.
The daily confrontation is over, things can only go up from here.
“Harp!” Steven squeals from the door as its bell rings, not a minute later. “Look!” Aiden appears next to him. Holding onto my dog.
I sigh. Once the customer seems totally set, not looking around for napkins or a fork or anything else, I duck out the front door.
“Your boy was just frolicking through town square and this guy went,” Steven makes his voice gruff, “‘Stuart. Come.’ And then he just came straight to him! Like, like a dog whisperer! I couldn’t believe it!”
I look at the whisperer in question and he clamps his jaw, thoroughly annoyed.
“I thought you keep him locked in your garage when you’re gone?” Steven asks me.
I shrug.I thought I did. Dad let him out? He’s a freaking Houdini dog?I don’t know!
