Bryony turned only her head this time. “You’re thinking about leaving?” Others came and went, but Paul had been a constant. “Are you serious?”
“You bet I am.” Paul stepped around to her side of the divider and leaned against it, hands clasped in front of him.
“Doing what?” Bryony asked.
“Library Science. I can finish my bachelor’s degree in anything and complete my MLS online.”
She swiveled her chair again to face him full on. “You’re quite serious about this, aren’t you?”
“I am!” His grin matured into a full-fledged smile.
He’d talked about that for years, but she never thought he would follow through. Such a bold move had never occurred to her. And Paul, of all people, to consider an undertaking like that at his age both stunned her and unsettled her.
He continued to stand there, looking more confident than ever before.
“If you go, I’ll miss seeing you around here,” she said. Though a bit fidgety at times, he did his job with accuracy and speed. He had been the perfect colleague.
Paul unclasped his hands, crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaned down, and said, “You might not want to stay after you hear who bought the business.”
“Who?” Whatever could Paul be thinking? Bryony had no enemies.
He straightened his back and pronounced the name of the rumored new owner with precision. “Charity Henderson.”
Bryony paused, looked back at her screen, took a breath, pushed her chair away from the desk, and stood. “Excuse me.”
After confirming Paul’s assertion with Clyde, Bryony tendered her two-week notice in a brief resignation letter with no typos centered on a fresh sheet of plain white paper. Then, she called her best friend. Lillian lamented not being able to meet in the evening and begged Bryony to stop by in the morning.
The next day before work, Bryony arrived at BeanHereNow alert and ready. She chose the table with red chairs. Red for two shots of adrenaline and a future with no plan. Bryony’s mind was on fire. The vase in the middle of the table held fresh pink freesia and a few sprigs of baby’s breath. Leafless thorny stalks with sharp tips would have been more apt.
Lillian moved toward Bryony’s table from the back of the work area. Her husband, Rick, followed close behind, a white apron covering his shirt, plastic gloves on his large, strong, capable, brown hands. His real job was managing a construction company, but he pitched in to help when needed.
Stopping on the other side of the order counter, Rick asked, “Did you ask her yet?”
Without answering her husband, Lillian placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of Bryony, a bowl of strawberries in the middle of the table, and another mug in front of the empty chair opposite.
“What did you say, Bryony?” Rick asked, his eyes now directed at her, his brow furrowed.
Lillian went to the counter, stretched her arm across its surface, and put her finger to his lips. “Shh, baby, we haven’t talked yet. Go back there and finish the sandwiches. I’ll let you know what she says.”
“Ask me what?” Bryony asked.
“My bad.” Rick walked backward with his hands up. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll get back to my general man-duties while you two talk business.”
“What’s he talking about?” Bryony asked.
Rick resumed his stance at the table in the back of the employee work area. His arms moved as he assembled, cut, and bagged sandwiches. He raised his head to look toward them, and lowered it again when he saw Bryony watching him.
“I was wondering,” Lillian said, lowering herself to the waiting chair. “It wouldn’t be anything near what you’re making now, but would you like to help out at the coffee shop until you decide what you want to do next?”
“Yes, I would.” The answer came fast and hard. “I can start right away on weekends.”
Lillian sipped from her mug and lowered it before saying, “You do understand the pay is not much above minimum wage, and we’d split the tips?”
“You don’t have to pay me,” Bryony said. Spur-of-the-moment job offer acceptances weren’t her style. But neither were spur-of-the-moment resignations, and she had been awake all night wondering how she would fill her days. The offer was heaven-sent.
“I’m not going to let you volunteer, dear.” Lillian bit into a strawberry.
“Whatever you want to pay me is fine.”
“It won’t be what you’re worth, but I’ll do what I can.” Lillian turned to the work area behind the counter and announced, “You can come back over, Rick. She said yes.”
Bryony heard a knife clatter to the floor and watched Rick skirt his work table.
“Great!” he said, gliding around the order counter and rushing toward them. When he reached her, he patted Bryony on the back and said, “Welcome aboard!”
“He’s happy because now he doesn’t have to help me out so much,” Lillian said. “Come here, baby.” She put a strawberry in her husband’s mouth. “There’s your pay for all the ways you’ve helped over the years.”
Rick chewed a few times and swallowed the fruit. “Don’t let her overwork you, Bryony.”
“No chance,” Bryony replied. She loved to work. Whatever real work would come next, being at the coffee shop with Lillian would be perfect for the time being.
“Now go do your manly things,” Lillian said to her husband.
“Aye aye, Sweetie Pie,” Rick sang as he sailed back to his station.
“You two are awesome,” Bryony said.
