He bit back a smile because she obviously was still testy. “See you around,” he quipped.
She mumbled something about not letting the door hit his backside on the way out. He grinned all the way back to the station. Drinda had spunk, that was for sure. No wonder his grandmother kept singing her praises. Grammie L. wanted him hooked up and having babies for her to cuddle. She was a bigger nag than his mother and that was saying something.
He glanced over his shoulder at the converted turn-of-the-century church. It had a fresh coat of steel-gray paint that breathed fresh lifeinto a once aged façade. The intriguing Drinda was nowhere in sight. Too bad.
She could be just the type of gal he was looking for. Except for the career thing. It was old-fashioned, but he wanted a stay-at-home wife. Someone who would devote themselves to his children and to him. The women he worked with would take a round out of him if they knew how he felt.
He wasn’t against women working. He was all in favor of women, or anyone, doing whatever they desired. But he wanted what he wanted and was not going to compromise. He’d rather stay single.
But someone who could cook like Drinda? Tempting. Very tempting. Her quick wit and good looks didn’t hurt either.
Chapter Three
Drinda stared at the line of high schoolers snaking across the shop towards the door. They were loud, so much laughter and catcalling, but not unruly. Last week a young jock in a football jacket had stopped by to pick up a cherry pie for his mother. The next day he’d been back with his friends. Every day the after-school crowd grew. If she didn’t speed up service, the youthful crowd might chase away the seniors brought in by Franny. Drinda was even getting the odd office worker on their way to work. She couldn’t risk losing her new customers.
This morning, Mayor Rundle had stopped by for Drinda’s signature drink, a Bacon Maple Latte. Each of the franchises had its signature beverage, some hot, some cold. When she had spare time, Drinda was working on something cold and special for thesummer months.
Drinda refocused on the drink she was making. She loved creating elegant coffees and chai teas, the smell of coffee and cocoa, the roar of the steamers, and the steady pulse of the grinder, all brought her heart to life. But why did kids have to make things so complicated? Who in the world wanted a no-fat, quad shot, salted caramel, white chocolate latte topped with full-fat whipped cream, toffee sprinkles, and marshmallow syrup? Gross! And how could they afford the drinks? As a teen, she’d never have managed.
“Hey, can I help?”
She looked toward the voice. A purple-haired teenage girl stood at the end of the counter. She had a pierced eyebrow and was dressed entirely in black. The only bright spot was the sparkling silver lightning bolt on her T-shirt. By Drinda’s best guess, the girl had to be about sixteen.
Before Drinda could formulate an answer, the girl said, “I’m Maxi. I used to live in Seattle, where I worked for a coffee chain. I know what I’m doing. I’d really like to help you out.” Her earnest expression of hope convinced Drinda to give the girl a shot. Heaven knows she needed help. She’d put an ad on the townhall bulletin board and social media pages, with no success.
“Let’s see what you can do. Go wash up. You can hang your jacket in the back. The top drawer of the filing cabinet has aprons. Grab yourself one.” She didn’t fret over theft as she kept everything locked up tight. If Maxi could help push the kids through faster, it would be a blessing.
“Yass! You won’t regret it.” She fist-pumped the air and hurried into the back. Seconds later, she slid behind the counter tying up her pink Coffee Loft apron. “What’s up?”
“Triple shot, non-fat, almond milk latte with vanilla syrup.” Maxi’s sure motions immediately revealed that she had indeed been a barista. They settled into a quick rhythm. Both making drinks while Drinda took orders and ran the register. Thank heavens she had two espresso machines and steamers.
Between bouts of the steamers’ screaming, Drinda asked, “Have you taken food service training?”
“Not in Canada, but I can bring in myUS certificate.”
“If we go ahead with hiring you,” she grinned to show it was a done deal, “you’ll have to take Canadian training.”
“No probs.” She slid the drink she was working on onto the counter and called, “Order for Franny.”
“Lovely to see you so busy,” Franny called as she grabbed her cup. “I’ll be back later for a snack. And look, there’s my grandson now.” She grinned and hurried past the remaining kids.
For the first time in over an hour, Drinda looked beyond the faces immediately before her. Ford Lunghamer, in full uniform, stood beside a man in a navy suit and tie. Both carried clipboards. Her inspectors.Caramel crap. They couldn’t have arrived at a worse time.
She glanced around the prep area. It was untidy, but not disgusting. She knew the kitchen and back room were clean, but tables needed to be bussed and she might be over her occupancy capacity.Sugar cubes. She was done for. Why had they come on her busiest day, ever?
She met Ford’s eye and smiled, though she wanted to frown and kick him back out the front door. Heshowed absolutely none of the friendliness from his previous visit.
“Maxi,” she hissed, “This is the health inspector and the fire inspector.”
Maxi flew into action, wiping down surfaces and tamping down the garbage while Drinda made drinks with a racing heart and fake jolly demeanor.
She was congratulating herself on their quick work when the men stepped around the counter. She owed Maxi a debt of gratitude.
“Can I help you?” she asked with a welcoming smile.
She didn’t greet Ford; she was still annoyed that he refused her free sandwich.
The other man introduced himself and handed over his business card. “Is now a good time for your inspection?” he asked as if she had the option of declining.
