Troll Tunnels

by Erin M. Hartshorn

  “I don’t think that would happen.”

  “But you can’t guarantee it.”

  On the one hand, Lashonda, Carlos, Maggie — they would accept Chris with open arms. On the other, I thought of Dorothy and of Svetlana and Anneke. They were each, in their own way, convinced that their actions were right and any who stood against them were wrong.

  “No, I can’t. We have some real pieces of work in the group. All I can say is that with them, it’s not personal. They’re awful to everyone.”

  A slight smile crossed their face. “That’s something, I suppose. I’ll have to think about it.”

  I pulled out my cellphone and pulled up Maggie’s info from my address book, then hit Share Contact and sent it to Chris. “If you decide to go, this is the address. Monday evenings. And if you’re on shift, I get it. I’ve missed more than my share of meetings because I had to work.”

  “In that case, perhaps I’ll stop in here during my breaks when I can’t make it. A social life is good.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Ximena exhaled loudly and rolled her head. “Is it my imagination, or are we getting even more customers than we used to for lunch? And when are you going to hire some help so we don’t have to work so hard to cover all the shifts?”

  The help wanted ads had only been live since yesterday, although Rich had quit Monday. Half a week short-staffed felt like forever, so I didn’t argue her point.

  “Not your imagination.” We were going to need to keep more dishes up front if we got any busier. As it was, we needed to restock now during our lull before the late lunch crowd came in — the ones who wanted to avoid the rush, so they all arrived in a clump between one-thirty and two o’clock.

  “So new hires?”

  “You keep things under control up here. I’ll take the dirty dishes back to wash, then start going through the applications.”

  Before looking at the applications, I called Carlos.

  Carlos didn’t want to meet up for coffee. “No offense, Pepper, but the last time we met up at a cafe was more than a little creepy.”

  Like it was my fault that he had a ghost inside him. Well, it had been, a little bit, though I hadn’t done it myself, and I fixed it. Still, I got it. I considered telling him that it was all Lashonda’s idea, but he already knew that. “Do you have a better idea?”

  Ouch. That sounded confrontational, even to me, and it wasn’t the way I meant it at all.

  Fortunately, he didn’t take it that way. “How about you come shopping with me? Shonda’s birthday is coming up next Tuesday, and I want to get her something. We can meet up at Downtown Crossing.”

  I didn’t know when her birthday was, or Carlos’s. I wouldn’t remember Maggie’s if I hadn’t put it into my phone years ago, in college. Beth was about the only one whose birthday I did remember. As friends went, I sucked.

  “Sounds like a plan. Lunchtime, after work, weekend, morning?”

  He laughed. “You don’t have to let me choose everything, you know. There is such a thing as being too accommodating.”

  “I have a flexible schedule.”

  Carlos wasn’t wrong, though. I let everyone determine how my schedule worked. Not just regularly scheduled events like the Monday evening gatherings at Maggie’s or the monthly brunch at my parents’ house. The trolls wanted me, I went. The kids needed something for school, I dealt with it. Even when I tried to set up an outing with Beth, I let her dictate the place and time. About the only time I absolutely carved out for myself were Tuesday evenings with Haris.

  “I’m serious. You pick. Let me worry about me. If I can’t do it, I’ll tell you, but you need to make a choice.”

  “Fine, then. Tomorrow evening. Say, five-thirty at the Downtown Crossing T.”

  “Excellent. See you then.”

  Downtown Crossing was also where the cafe was that we’d been at when I pulled the ghost out of him. If that didn’t bother him, I certainly wasn’t going to mention it. I might, however, try to keep us away from that cafe.

  That settled, it was time to focus on the applications. I had already started the winnowing process. The first few were easy to discard, since they had things like ‘I can only work half an hour a week’ and ‘Can I bring my cat in to keep me company? Cat cafes are cool.’ Although cat cafes were fun, and I was glad they existed, I had no desire to either convince Kendall that it was a good idea for the Wicked Whatever or jump through the hoops necessary to pass a health inspection with animals on the premises. I hoped the current crop had more promising applicants.

  First things first, though — I racked up all the dirty dishes, making a couple trips back to the front to grab tubs of discards from early lunch customers, and started the first batch washing. While I was at it, I put a couple trays of chocolate chip cookies in the oven, as Ximena had mixed up more dough the day before. With luck, some of the current customers would grab fresh, hot cookies on their way out, and we’d still have plenty for the afternoon crowd.

  Three paper applications sat in my inbox, so I looked at them before checking to see what I’d gotten online.

  A college student looking for a little extra spending money for the holidays, a car mechanic who wanted weekend hours so she could consider changing careers, and a recent immigrant who was looking for something both stable and flexible. I texted Tomas, the college student, to set up an appointment for an interview. He would quit right after the new year, and I’d have to do this again, but for now, that was a solid lead. The car mechanic was going to be disappointed to discover how much less she would make as a barista, but I sent her a text, too. The immigrant was Svetlana.

  This was going to be problematic. I had no good reason to refuse her. No good reason that I could put down on paper and that would pass muster with the Labor Board, anyway. “Her magic prickles, and I’d be on edge having to work around her all the time.” Or “I think she’s working with a coven of witches to bring a goddess of chaos to Earth and destroy us all.” Nope and nope.

  On paper, there was no reason not to hire her, and every reason I should jump at the chance — her experience as a manager in shops in Moscow and London, for example. Not exactly references I could easily check, although I did my best with the help of the Internet.

  Searching for the Russian ones only yielded pages in Russian, and the translated versions of the pages were useless for finding someone to contact. The search for the one in London yielded news articles about the business closing a few months after Svetlana had left. I could only hope that she wasn’t lying on her application. She could be the new assistant manager, and then I would only occasionally have to work at the same time as her. That would be perfect. I texted her to come in for an interview, too.

  That just left whoever had applied online. I checked the computer. A couple more students that I e-mailed, plus a handful of people who hadn’t even bothered filling out all the requested information, all of whom I rejected. I’d had my fill of problems with paperwork.

  Speaking of which, Freddy was due in soon. Before I offered Svetlana the position as assistant manager, I needed to talk to my current employees and see if they wanted it. I believed in internal promotion when possible — these were people I knew, who had been working hard. Harder than ever since Rich quit. I stopped in the kitchen to move the dish racks along and take cookies out of the oven, then headed back out to the front.

  While I’d been busy in the office, Ximena had straightened up the front, cleaned the condiment bar, and bused the tables that our less thoughtful customers had left covered with dishes, napkins, crumbs, and other spills. She nodded in acknowledgment of my return and kept wiping down empty tables, stopping to exchange the occasional greeting with one of our regulars.

  Freddy arrived fifteen minutes later, his left eye blackened and all but swollen shut. Bruising spread across that side of his face.

  “Are you okay?” Stupid thing to say, obviously he wasn’t okay, but it came out of my mouth anyway. What I rea
lly wanted to ask was none of my business — who had hit him and why.

  He snorted. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse. Do you want me to work in the back so I don’t scare the customers?”

  “Our customers can deal with it. Half of them see worse at work anyway.”

  “I’d still prefer it.”

  “All right. Go clock in. Dishwasher should just be finishing another cycle, so you can start with that.”

  I followed him back, and he looked at me over his shoulder with his good eye. “Problem?”

  My hand itched with magic dancing over the fingertips, wanting to reach out and touch his bruises, make the swelling go down, ease the pain, repair the broken blood vessels. I could almost see what needed to be done, and I suddenly understood what my meditation had been preparing me for. Almost. I was terrified of letting the magic loose and discovering that I only knew enough to make things worse. I had no desire to blind Freddy by sending all the extra fluid into his damaged eye.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the open assistant manager position.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He kept walking without looking at me. “In fact, I was going to ask for fewer hours for a while.”

  “Just until your eye recovers?”

  He punched in on the clock. “No, longer than that. Maybe permanent.”

  Permanently fewer hours? But he’d really needed this job, needed the money so he could get away from his dad. “Did you get another job?”

  He looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it. I know it puts you in a bind since you’ve already got the schedule made up, but I’d really appreciate it.”

  Maybe he did have another job — with Rich, perhaps. Rich had brought Freddy on in the first place, and I could understand Freddy feeling a bond of loyalty. That made the new hires even more important, and now I was going to need to bump it to three, not two. Good thing seasonal help at least should be easy to come by.

  “All right, I’ll make the adjustments. No worries.”

  Now all I had to do was check with Trish the next time I saw her to see whether she wanted a promotion. I’d like to give it to her, even though I knew she was going to need maternity leave in the coming year, but the question was whether she thought she could handle it. I’d ask her tomorrow. For now, I needed to get back to work.

  Warmth fluttered in my stomach. I hadn’t expected Haris today, but I looked eagerly toward the door, hoping to see the muse, even though the feel of Haris’s magic told me that Haris was still some distance away. Getting closer by the moment, though.

  The third time I glanced at the door, Ximena said, “Expecting someone?”

  Embarrassment flooded my face. “I think Haris might stop by.”

  “And you’re due off work soon.” She smiled knowingly. “So get ready to go. If anyone wants to put in an application, I know where they are, and I’ll leave them front and center on your desk.”

  Because I carried everything of use in my pockets, getting ready to go meant grabbing my long leather jacket from the office. As I swung the jacket around me to slide my arms into its sleeves, heat and electricity shot through me and Haris walked into the coffee shop.

  Today, she was dressed in a heather gray dress that hugged her curves but couldn’t possibly keep her warm enough. Just looking at her made me want to cuddle her close — and I didn’t care if she knew I was thinking it.

  She laughed, and I wasn’t sure whether it was at my thoughts or my appearance. “I was hoping to surprise you, but here you are, ready to go.”

  “As you see.” I turned to Ximena. “See you tomorrow.”

  She nodded. “Just tell me you’re going to get the schedule under control soon.”

  “Doing my best.”

  “Good. Missy was telling me yesterday I should look into working somewhere closer to home, if I was going to have to do last-minute schedule changes. But I’d rather stay here.”

  “Thanks. I’d rather you stay, too.” I nodded at her before heading out the door with Haris.

  Haris hooked her arm through mine, and sparks shot off the door frame. “That happy to see me, hmm?”

  “Have you seen you? You’re gorgeous!”

  She chuckled. “I’m sure we’re a striking pair.”

  “Uh-huh.” I might catch some glances, but not nearly as many as she did. “I assume you were in the neighborhood?”

  “Not really. I just wanted to see you. And maybe check that we really are driving out to the Cape this weekend before I rent a car.”

  I hunched up guiltily. I hadn’t even checked to see which days still needed covering. “We can go back so I can look?”

  “The week’s not getting any better?”

  “I don’t know about that. I got to see you when I wasn’t expecting to — that’s definitely better!” A group of Asian tourists, cellphones out for pictures, swarmed the sidewalk in front of us. I didn’t say any more until we were past them. “Just a lot going on. Yesterday alone had me off on an excursion with a troll, defending myself to my boss, overseeing the twins’ lessons, and running across some uncomfortable statements from my grandmother. Today’s been a bit slow in comparison.”

  “It would have to be. You’re not sorry I showed up?”

  “Never!”

  “Good.” She squeezed my arm against her briefly. “I thought we could stroll through Boston Common.”

  “I suppose. Fall color’s long gone, though, and there’s no snow yet. Not the best time of year for it.” The few flakes that were drifting through the sky didn’t really count as snow.

  “Which means we won’t have as much company as we would otherwise. Sounds perfect to me — it’s not often I get you all to myself.”

  I wanted to say any time Haris wanted me, I was there — but we both knew it wasn’t true. I had too many other commitments and too many fears to give myself with such abandon. I wished for it to be true, wanted it to be true, but it wasn’t true.

  “I know. It’s okay.” Her voice soothed me, told me that she accepted me as I was. She changed the subject. “Maybe in a few days, when the Frog Pond opens, we can try this again, go skating?”

  I loved that she was thinking that far ahead for our dates. It gave me a warm glow completely separate from the heat that she sent coursing through me anyway.

  “Maybe, though I thought that was next week.” I let doubt tinge my voice. “It might depend on how well my new lessons are going, and I don’t think they’re going that fast.”

  She gasped with pretend annoyance. “Just because I grew up on the Mediterranean doesn’t mean I can’t ice skate.”

  “I cannot imagine you being less than graceful at anything. However, when I fall and land on my keister, I’d like to make sure nothing worse than a bruise happens. No sprains, strains, or sundry breaks.”

  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

  “Ha. When we go to my parents for brunch, ask them.”

  Chapter 13

  Before I headed upstairs to corral the twins — and Kane and Aniyah — so Vanessa and Jeixing could get out for the evening, I stopped in the restaurant. Jinhong was busy at the register with a customer, and Wei was busy taking an order. I raised a hand to acknowledge them, but walked through to the kitchen. Once through the swinging door, I stepped to one side and inhaled the ginger, garlic, and sesame scented steamy air. In the middle of the room, men and women were busy with cleavers, chopping, dicing, and slicing vegetables and meat. At the far side, two women busily pinched dumplings together to be steamed.

  In all of the busyness, however, I didn’t see Benjamin. Then I heard his voice from his office, tucked under the stairs, and I moved in that direction.

  “—know what you’re saying, but I can’t do that. Two days, okay. Three days, maybe. A week away from the restaurant? And how am I supposed to do that?” He looked up as I neared the door, and worry crossed his face.

  I held up a hand and shook my head. I wouldn’t interrupt him. I began to
back up, but he motioned for me to come in. I did, sitting on the hard chair across from him and trying not to listen as he finished up his phone call, which didn’t take much longer. Truth be told, this close, I was more concerned about him than I had been before. Pale lines surrounded his eyes, and his lips looked pinched with pain. The faint sheen of moisture on his forehead might be nothing more than the usual from working over a steaming pan on the stove, but combined with the rest of his appearance, it scared me.

  “Doctors!” he said, hanging up the phone. “Think you have nothing better to do than rearrange your life to suit them. What can I do for you today, Pepper? I hope it’s something simple like a plate full of dumplings.”

  “I never turn down your dumplings, and since I’m watching Vanessa’s kids tonight, that would be even better. Though they might like the dolmades I have in the fridge, unlike Celeste’s kids. Jian and Bella never want to try anything new.” I let my curiosity get the better of me. Maybe I would finally learn what was going on. “What doctor?”

  “A double order of dumplings, then. And some spring rolls.” He smiled but made no move to stand yet. “I won’t tell their mother if you won’t. She always assumes I am going to spoil them anyway.”

  “I don’t think she cares, since she and Jeixing are getting a night out together,” I said. “Now, about the doctor?”

  His shoulders slumped, and I realized he looked thinner, more hollowed. “I’ve been feeling weak, a bit faint. For months, actually. Matt talked to my brother, and he told me that if I didn’t go to the doctor on my own, he’d throw me over his shoulder and carry me there.” His lips twisted with humor. “Given that he’s half a foot shorter than me, I’m not sure he could do it, but there didn’t seem to be much point in both of us getting hurt because he tried. So I went. The doctor didn’t like what he heard, so he sent me to a cardiologist. Stress test, EKG, the works. He even considered giving me nitroglycerin to carry, although there’s no evidence of a heart attack or angina or any of the other half a dozen things they prescribe that for.”