When Bryony reached up for the bagel, he could see the muscles in her calves. Was she a runner?
She handed his bagel to him, collected a cup of coffee, ran his credit card, and dismissed him to greet the next person in line with the same warm smile and cheerful, “Hello.”
Cal found an empty table and sipped his coffee, watching Bryony in his peripheral vision. She paid no special attention to his side of the room. He stopped looking for her to notice him and surveyed the rest of the shop.
Five tables with empty chairs were covered with used cups and napkins. The clutter reminded him of Leslie, the way her kitchen table would pile up over the course of the week with unsorted mail here, a few peppermint candies there, a stack of newspapers, unused plastic utensils still wrapped in cellophane, fast food napkins. He could never bear the way she tolerated disorganization. When he tried to help, she would playfully slap his hands, telling him to stop, calling him OCD.
Wanting to live with beauty and order in his life was not a mental disorder. People in general function better when they don’t have to look for something every time they want to leave their house. How many times were Leslie and he late for a concert to accommodate a last minute search for her purse, or her keys, or her glasses? One time the lost item was her other shoe. As he recalled, she never found it.
His cell phone rang, and he looked at the number displayed, unknown to him, but with a Cleveland area code. He answered with, “Hello?” and prepared to hang up if the caller launched into selling something.
“Cal?” The voice sounded familiar and not altogether unappealing, a deep, feminine invitation.
“This is Cal,” he answered, in line with his determination to never say “Yes” to unknown callers, a safety measure to ward off scammers.
“It’s Susie. Remember me?”
“Susie, of course.” He’d forgotten to put her number in his contact list, and he did that now as they exchanged pleasantries.
“You were the first person on my call list for the day, and I knew you’d be up early because you’re teaching.” She paused.
“Yep,” Cal said. “I’m awake, alive, alert, and ready for action.”
Susie laughed with that low, smoky sound. “I understand you’re living in Fieldstone for the time being, and it just so happens I’m in town, too! Family business, but I have loads of free time, and I wondered if we could get together soon for dinner? A movie?”
The line for service extended to the door now, and another couple left a table loaded with their used dishes. Cal looked around. Who was in charge of clearing the tables?
“Sounds great,” he answered. “Glad you called. Listen, I gotta run right now, but let’s talk soon!”
“Great, great,” Susie said, her voice sliding down the easy hill at Aspen. “Let’s touch base later. Have a good day, Cal.”
“Sure, Susie. Thanks for calling.”
He snapped the phone shut as a slight young man with spiked blonde hair left the counter carrying a tray with a steaming cup and plated bagel. His eyes scanning back and forth, the young man stopped and started to place his order on a table still laden with the remnants of the last customer’s meal, right next to Cal’s table.
“Here, let me help,” Cal said. He was out of his seat in a flash, clearing the table, stuffing used napkins in dirty cups, and gathering the cup handles in one fist. “I’ll wipe it off for you.”
Cal hurried to the counter and deposited the dirty cups there.
Bryony side-eyed him as she waited on the next customer. Her co-worker looked at him with an arched eyebrow.
“May I have a wet cloth to wash off a table?” Cal asked the co-worker. “I’m good at this kind of thing. Bussed many a table at a swanky restaurant when I was young. Those kind of skills stick with you.”
“I’ll do it,” the woman said. She moved the cups to an unseen ledge below the counter and whipped through the opening with a damp rag. Cal returned to his seat and applied hand sanitizer from the bottle in his jacket pocket. Within a few minutes, the woman wiped the table for the young man, cleared four tables, and wiped those clean, too.
Cal gave her a thumbs up as she returned to her station.
Bryony’s co-worker returned from behind the counter with a coffee pot and a fresh wet cloth dangling from her wrist. “Top it off?” she asked.
“Sure.” He went to pick up his cup but bumped it with his fingertips, sloshing a brown puddle onto the tabletop.
“Oops,” he said, reaching for her wet cloth.
She pulled the cloth out of his reach. “I can do it.” She picked up his cup, wiped the table, and refilled his coffee in one graceful motion. “Thanks for the help,” she said.
“Your manager needs to consider additional staff,” Cal said. “You two are doing a great job, but you need help.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “I’m Lillian. Are you passing through?”
“I moved here recently. Teaching at the high school. Still getting to know my way around.”
“Oh.” The woman raised her eyebrows, glanced toward Bryony, and then returned her gaze to him. “I missed your name.”
“Cal Forster.” He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Lillian. Like I said, you two are amazing, but I think another pair of hands could increase your sales.”
Lillian smiled. “Are you looking for a part time job?”
“Not me, but I run the work study program at the high school temporarily. If your boss is interested, I could come in and explain the program. It’s a win-win for both the students and the work sites.”
“Interesting,” Lillian said. “Tell you what. Why don’t you come back tonight, say around five o’clock, and you can tell us all about what you can do for us?”
“Sure,” Cal said. “Who should I ask for?”
“Ask for me,” Lillian said. “I own the place.” She winked and carried the coffee pot back behind the counter.
“Cool,” Cal said under his breath. If he could place a student there, he might have the opportunity to spend time around Bryony. And if she wasn’t interested, sounded like Susie might be.
He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, but having an attractive companion, someone to pal around with, could enhance his connection to the community overall.
