With no new customers to assist and Brent in the back, Emily’s thoughts turned toward her marooned car. She massaged her forehead as she thought about the massive impact the repair would have on her savings account.
She knew how much she could tuck away out of each paycheck by living carefully, but the interest her bank paid on her savings would take a hit.
She squinted at the exit sign above the front door as she calculated the interest in her head.
“So, I have an idea,” Brent said, appearing at her side with no warning.
She jumped violently and the calculations in her head fell to bits like a broken dish. “Would you stop that?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, touching her elbow lightly and looking truly penitent this time. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You’re a big guy! How do you move that quietly? I mean you’re big as in tall, not as in—” Emily stopped talking and shook her head, realizing she was flustered. “I’ve lost all the numbers now.” She sighed. “What was your idea?”
“Oh,” Brent cleared his throat, “I thought we could make a game of me trying to guess which patrons are regulars and which are first- or second-time. You can tell me if I guess right or not.”
“Go for it,” Emily said, nodding toward the glass door where a middle-aged couple reached for the handle.
“Sorry about the numbers,” Brent added in an undertone. “Were they important?”
“Just calculating interest,” she whispered, tapping the side of her head.
He shot her a curious, impressed look and then greeted the couple with a cheerful, “Hello!”
“Well, hello there! You’re new!” the wife said.
“Indeed I am. I’m Brent Peterson—nice to meet you!” He dimpled and shook hands with the couple. As he took their order, he shot Emily an impish smile that said, They’re regulars! Aren’t I clever?
She just rolled her eyes, unable to contain an amused smirk, and started some espresso shots. She already knew what they’d order and that they’d tip well.
“So tell me about them,” Brent said in an undertone as the couple moved away from the counter and ensconced themselves in leather chairs near the front window.
“You seem more interested in the people than the coffee,” Emily remarked.
“Do I?” he asked thoughtfully. “I’ll have to remedy that.”
“Oh, don’t feel badly about it,” she said quickly. “I’m mostly teasing. It’s good for a barista to be a people-person. Those two are very sweet. I think he works around here in one of the offices. She meets him for coffee mid-morning several days out of the week. They always order the same thing, tip well, exchange pleasantries with me and Terry, and then sit in those chairs.”
“Creatures of habit, I see,” Brent observed.
“Very much so.”
“Do they only come in together? Do they ever meet anyone else here?”
Emily shook her head. “It’s their quiet date-spot, I think.”
Brent nodded silently.
“Oh, and for this game to work, I think you need to do your guessing as they’re coming in. Not after they have had a chance to give themselves away,” she said pointedly.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “If you insist.” Glancing at the door, he said, “Not a regular.”
Emily followed his gaze. Surprisingly, he was right. Lucky guess.
“Welcome to Sunrise Coffee,” she said pleasantly to the silver-haired man who’d entered. “What can I get started for you?”
TERRY TOOK OVER FOR her when it was lunch time. Emily hurried her way through the salad she’d brought, listening to the murmur of sound coming from the front of the coffee shop. Her boss’s gravelly voice talking through each minute step of the coffee-making process. Brent chatting up the customers.
And I though I was a people person! He’s so good at it. Far better at it than coffee-making. I'll bet the guy doesn’t even make his own coffee. I wonder why they hired him...
She checked her watch. Her lunch break was nearly over. She tidied up the table and replaced her fork and plastic container in her lunch bag. She’d take it home, wash it, and make a new salad for tomorrow.
Thoughts of home reminded her that she was either going to have the walk several miles to her apartment or she’d have to pay for bus fare. She recalled the weather forecast she’d heard on the radio.
It was going to be around 115 degrees the next several days. There would be no walking for her.
She sighed deeply, massaging her temples and squeezing her eyes shut. She'd have to take the bus to and from work until her car was fixed. Not only was she going to have to pay for a tow truck and a mechanic, there was the expense of bus fare until the car was running again.
She did some quick mental math and could have wept at the condition of her college fund.
“Headache?” Brent’s voice said in a stage-whisper.
She opened her eyes and stared at him.
“I was trying not to startle you this time,” he said, speaking in a more normal tone of voice. “I have some ibuprofen in my stuff if you need it.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across Emily’s face. “Thanks,” she said gratefully, “but it’s more the figurative kind of headache.”
“Perhaps I could interest you in some figurative ibuprofen?” Laugh lines crinkled around Brent’s eyes, and she couldn’t help but giggle.
Shaking her head, she said, “I’d better get back out there before Terry wonders what happened to me. Smoothie orders picking up yet?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“Happens mid-afternoon every day in the summer.”
Terry had her work the register while she filled orders until Brent’s lunch break was over. As the manager headed into the back room, she said in a gravelly undertone, “That kid has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to coffee, but the customers seem to love him. Keep him at the register, will ya?”
“Sure thing, Terry,” Emily said quickly. She wondered how long Brent would last if they couldn’t get his coffee skills up to speed.
Smoothie orders rolled in, keeping her trotting back and forth between the freezer and the blender. Brent worked the register and quickly became best friends with every customer that darkened the door. People who’d already ordered or picked up drinks continued to hang around the counter as a sort of jovial party-atmosphere developed around him.
Right on cue—5 minutes past two—the back door slammed as the guys who worked the last shift of the day arrived.
“That’s our replacement,” Emily told Brent, jerking her head toward the back room.
“Nice,” he said. He grinned at the customers lingering near the counter. “First work day at Sunrise Coffee: in the bag!”
The party was slowly dispersing as Terry appeared in the prep area with Carl and Li. After a brief introduction, she shooed Emily and Brent to the back room. “Show him how to clock out,” she ordered.
Emily obeyed. After they’d finished writing the time on the clipboard hanging by the back door, Brent nudged her arm with his elbow. “So what was causing the figurative headache?”
“Car trouble,” Emily said with a shrug.
“You walked here, didn’t you,” Brent said, his eyes widening.
“Part of the way,” she admitted. “I stopped for gas on my way to work, and the car wouldn’t start after.”
She could see him about to suggest taking the bus. “Yes, I’ll take the bus if I have to, but—I don’t know—do starters ever miraculously start... starting again?”
Brent looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s slightly possible. And I might know a trick. I’ll walk you back to your car and give it a go.”
“Oh, no,” Emily protested quickly. “I couldn’t put you through that. I wasn’t asking—”
“It’s fine, Emily, really. C’mon!”
Chapter 4
BRENT PULLED THE HEAVY back door open and glanced quickly up and down the narrow all
ey before ushering Emily outside.
“Are you sure you want to do this? You could be getting on an air conditioned bus right now instead of walking through 110-degree heat and dodging drivers crazed by the one-way streets.”
This elicited a chuckle from Brent. “I said it was fine. So, how did I do on our little game?”
“Surprisingly well,” she admitted.
“Does that mean I’m smarter than I look?”
“Definitely.”
Brent looked sideways at her and only then did she realize what she’d said. “Oh, stop it. That was a setup!” After a moment, she added, “You certainly worked the crowd. Keep that up, and we’ll see a surge in business.”
“It was fun.” He shrugged. After a moment’s thoughtful silence, he said, “I was thinking... I do this trick where I draw little pictures without lifting my pen once. They’re kind of unusual, but people think they’re fun. Do you suppose anyone would mind if I started doing them on the napkins we hand to people with their drinks?”
Emily glanced over at him. He was definitely jumping into the new job with both feet. “That sounds like a very nice touch. I can’t see anyone having a problem with it. Terry would probably have something to say if it slowed down our efficiency at filling orders, but otherwise... I’m guessing it’s fine.”
Brent nodded, looking pleased. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and grimaced. “It’s warmish out here!”
“Just warmish, huh? I tried to warn you,” Emily said, shaking her head.
They crossed the street, and Emily could see the sign for the gas station half a block ahead. The walk back seemed much shorter. Perhaps it was due to the conversation.
“I wondered something about you,” she said.
“Yes?” Brent asked.
His voice sounded a little stiff so she glanced at him before speaking. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but... have you ever made coffee before?”
A crooked smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, and he visibly relaxed as he looked down at her. “Am I that bad?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re hopeless—”
A sheepish grin grew across his face. “Honestly? I haven’t. Unless instant coffee counts.”
Emily made a gagging sound.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Brent laughed. “But I fully intend to learn how. Make Connor Gomez glad he hired me.”
“Ah, friends in high places,” Emily said, recognizing the name of the man who owned the chain of coffee shops. “That makes sense of how you got hired with no experience. I hear he’s a good guy.”
Another glance at Brent showed him shrug very casually.
Almost too casually.
Like forced-casual. I hope I haven’t offended him.
But he caught her looking and flashed a smile.
“The car is just up ahead, here,” Emily said, gesturing to the gas station.
“Great,” Brent said, enthusiastically rubbing his hands together. “Let’s see what we can do.”
Emily led him to her poor blue car. If her face hadn’t already been red from the heat and exertion of walking in the soupy air, it certainly would have been red from the embarrassment of showing her beater car to a near-stranger.
She didn’t usually notice just how faded and chipped the paint was, how the rear suspension sagged, how the seals around the windows were cracked and brittle from too many years in the Arizona sun. But it was all hers and it was paid for.
That’s what counts, she reminded herself as she unlocked the driver’s side door.
Hot, stale air assailed her, and she grimaced as she slipped into the driver’s seat. Reaching wide around the blistering steering wheel, she inserted her key into the ignition.
Brent bent over to peer inside the small car, his tall frame shading her from the sun.
“Here goes nothing,” she said. He flashed her an encouraging smile.
The turned the key and Old Blue coughed once before making a wheezing, grinding sound.
“Okay, okay, yep,” Brent said, tapping the roof of the car and straightening. “Sounds like the starter’s going bad.”
“I’d say it’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Gone bad.”
“Oh,” he grinned. “Gotcha. Well, it may not be completely dead just yet. Let me see if I can’t get it started so you can get home or to a mechanic.”
“That would be—amazing,” Emily breathed.
“Pop the hood?” he asked.
She did so, and he gripped the edge to raise it. “Ouch!” he yelped. He blew on his fingertips.
I don’t think he’s originally from Arizona.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Emily said, wincing on his behalf. “Let me see...” She looked around the tiny interior of the car for something to protect his hands from the hot metal.
“Here, try this,” she said, holding out a rag she kept for when she had to check the oil. “I’m afraid it’s a bit greasy, but it should keep you from getting burned.”
“Thanks,” he said. “That’s better.” Using the rag like a hot pad, he raised the hood and set the kickstand. He traced the various parts of the car with his finger hovering in the air. “There you are,” he muttered, shaking his finger at what must be the starter.
“Emily, I need you to turn the key while I tap the thing with this.” He produced a multi tool from his pocket.
“Right away, Inspector Gagent,” she quipped, sliding back into the driver’s seat.
“That’s not his name,” Brent said, peering around the hood at her.
“Yeah, I know, but ending it in ‘—ent’ made it more like a hybrid with ‘Brent’,” she explained. “I know. It’s a stretch.” She rolled her eyes and headed back to the driver’s seat.
“Ready?” she called.
“Go for it!”
As she turned the key, she could hear Brent tapping the starter with the multi tool. To her surprise, Old Blue’s engine caught and sputtered to life.
Leaning out to look around the hood, she met Brent’s victorious grin. “How about that?” he said.
“Fantastic! I can’t thank you enough!”
“Just don’t turn it off until you’re home. And don’t count on it starting up in the morning without the same treatment.”
“Understood,” she said.
Brent wiped his hands on the oily rag, tossed it to her, and then slammed the hood down. He jerked his head toward the street nearby. “My bus will be here any minute; I gotta run. See you tomorrow!”
“Thanks again!” Emily said, standing to wave as he jogged toward the bus stop.
She watched him go and pondered his choice of footwear. Loafers? For a job that has you on your feet all day?
She strapped in quickly and backed her car out of the parking space. Pulling alongside the back of the bus stop, she rolled her window down and called, “Brent!” He peered around the back of the structure. “Try tennis shoes tomorrow. Your feet will thank you.”
He grinned and gave her a smart salute.
Chapter 5
BRENT WAS WEARING THE same shoes the next day, but Emily didn’t have a chance to either ask or tease him about it. Terry was in a bad mood because she’d had to cover for one of the early shift employees, and they’d been slammed with business.
She hurried them both to the front where a line had formed in the short amount of time she’d been in the back room telling them to hurry. It was even hotter outside than it had been the day before. The storm system had moved on, causing the humidity to drop but the temperature to soar. Nearly everyone in the line ordered something cold: whether coffee or a smoothie. Emily recruited Brent to do various simple tasks as she hurried to fill the orders he’d taken. Somehow, he still managed to find time to scribble a drawing on each customer’s napkin.
She decided it was probably a good thing considering how long some of them had waited. Most customers immediately inspected their napkin art and then said something along the lines o
f, “I hope I don’t spill anything because this is too cool to use now.”
When the backlog was gone and they had a spare moment, Emily sighed and rolled her shoulders. “Well, that wasn’t half bad thanks to your napkin art. Normally we would have had some pretty grumpy customers. I’m just bummed I didn’t really get to see any of what you drew.”
“It’s nothing, really,” Brent shrugged. “Just a fun trick I have up my sleeve.”
“Well, it seems to be a hit. You watch, people will start expecting it.”
“Speaking of which... we should continue our little game from yesterday,” Brent said, nodding toward the door. “I’m going to guess the blond and the blue-haired girls are regulars. The brunette, not so much. First time, probably?”
“I will never understand how you’re so good at this,” Emily said, shaking her head. “Hey Pam! Hey Annette! Who’s your friend?”
As she filled the three orders, Emily couldn’t help but listen in as the girls commented their way through Brent’s napkin art.
“Is the peacock for me?” Annette asked.
“But of course,” Brent’s voice answered. “Whoever did your dye-job nailed the colors. It’s hard to do, you know.”
“Don’t I ever! I tried to do my own my freshman year of high school.”
“Oh my word—it was horrible!” Pam squawked.
“You’ve known each other that long?” Brent asked.
“Yeah, we’re just about like sisters.”
“How about you?” he raised an eyebrow at the brunette.
There was a brief pause, and then the new girl spoke for the first time since ordering. “I’m an exchange student, so I just met the two of them.”
“Really? That’s awesome!” Brent enthused. “I always thought it would be so fascinating to be an exchange student. Where are you from?”
“France,” she said, and Emily could hear the shy smile in the girl’s voice.
“I never would have guessed,” Brent said warmly. “Your English is amazing. Barely an accent.”
Emily turned with the three drinks and handed them out in order. “Thanks, you guys! Enjoy!” she said. They gave her and Brent finger-tip waves and turned from the counter, debating for a moment about whether to go or stay, ultimately deciding to enjoy the air conditioning and the deep leather chairs.
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