I smiled happily. ‘I am and I will.’
He seemed amused by this. ‘Crazy Brit. Well, I’ll see you around.’
‘Aren’t you having breakfast?’ I asked, kicking myself afterwards for sounding so obviously disappointed.
‘I am, but to go. Laverne’s making up my order. The theatre group at the art collective had a bust-up last night and I’m providing breakfast to smooth over the cracks.’ He shook his head. ‘Artistic temperaments, they’re a killer. Put a bunch of them together in a confined space and it’s like Apocalypse Now. You have a good day.’
‘I will. You too.’
I watched him walk back to the counter, where Laverne was waiting with several brown paper bags and a cardboard tray of takeaway coffee cups. Was I giddy from the post-breakfast rush or the extra-strong coffee, or something else …?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Interesting developments
I was so exhausted when I walked out of Annie’s at lunchtime that I went straight back to Lizzie’s and curled up in bed. I slept for five hours straight, finally waking when my amused cousin brought me a welcome cup of tea.
‘You survived then, sleeping beauty?’
I blinked the sleep from my eyes and sipped the hot tea, which tasted as close to heaven as it was possible to be. ‘I did.’
Lizzie perched on the edge of the futon. ‘And how was it?’
‘Scary at first. And completely overwhelming when the breakfast rush kicked in. Annie chucked out some obnoxious customers who had been hassling me – no, it was fine, don’t worry – and it was incredible to watch. But I loved it, Lizzie! I’m so knackered I can hardly think straight but it’s a good tired, if you know what I mean.’
‘I get that. Maybe it’s because you’ve been doing what you’re meant to do. And I don’t mean waitressing. Apart from the people Annie ejected, did the rest of the customers behave for you?’
I instantly thought of Max and the way his cheeky smile had made me feel. ‘They were very kind. Marty and Frankie were on form. There were a couple of people queuing during the rush who complained a bit but I didn’t take it personally.’
‘Good.’ She gave me a quizzical look. ‘OK, what aren’t you telling me?’
‘Sorry?’ Had my cousin worked me out so quickly?
‘I felt like you were going to add something else there.’
I couldn’t stop the forward progress of my smile. ‘Maybe …’
Lizzie shrieked and bounced on the futon, almost showering me with tea. ‘I knew it! What’s his name?’
‘Who says it’s a bloke?’
‘Your face!’
I put my tea on Lizzie’s desk to keep it safe from her bouncing. ‘Fine. You remember the guy who bumped into me when we went to see Eric’s show?’
‘The sexy coffee bloke?’
‘The very same. Well it turns out he lives in The Haight and knows the Alfaros.’
Lizzie’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. ‘No!’
‘Yep. In fact, Mrs Alfaro introduced him to me last week and he came in again today.’
‘And?’
‘And we had a nice chat.’
‘You are not leaving it there, Nellie! I need details.’
So I told her about Max Rossi, his lovely dove-grey eyes and cheeky smile that made me lose all sense of time.
‘Nell Sullivan, you sly woman! Why didn’t you tell me this last week?’
I blushed. ‘I don’t know, I think I just wanted time to process it. You’re not offended are you?’
‘Don’t be daft. If he’s as gorgeous as you say I think I’d want to keep him to myself, too. Wow, so he lives here? How spooky is that!’
‘Do you know him?’
‘Max Rossi, did you say his name was? His name sounds familiar but I can’t picture him. From your description I’m sure I would remember if I’d seen him. Oh Nell, how exciting! Are you going to see him again?’
‘I’m not seeing him, Lizzie.’
‘Not yet. But there’s time. Well, good for you. I hope he comes in every day and makes you smile. It’s about time you had a bit of fun. You should ask him out for coffee after your shift.’
‘Lizzie …’
‘No, I’m just saying. It could be nice to get to know him.’
‘I’m not sure about that. Plus, if he is coming into Annie’s every day he’ll be swimming in coffee.’
She swiped at me. ‘Tea, then. Or one of Ced’s iced Chai latte things. Or water. The beverage isn’t important.’
I thought about our first conversation at Annie’s and the art collective’s business card tucked safely in my purse. ‘Actually, he did mention he’s having an exhibition next week. I suppose we could pop down there?’
Lizzie’s eyes were wide as a bushbaby’s. ‘Too right we could! That’s perfect, Nellie. You can see him again and I can check him out. It’s a definite date!’
Once I’d told Lizzie, it was clearly time to share the news with a certain someone else too …
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: A bit of a confession
Nell Sullivan, you HUSSY!
Seriously, I am proud of you. Firstly for finding a hottie on your doorstep and secondly (but most importantly) for it not being Aidan. You’ve been mooning over that man for far too long. It’s time you did a bit of window-shopping and, if the opportunity arises, indulge in something tasty!
I’m so jealous! He sounds gorgeous too. Like Johnny Depp in Chocolat – and you know JD is my third reserve after RG, OM and of course Greg (we’re still on shaky ground after the Top Three conversation, so I have to put that in case he’s checking my emails). If you get the chance, snog him. For me? Consider it your contribution to maintaining the mental stability of your best friend. Because if I don’t get a job soon, I’ll be one of those stories you read in Take a Break about a woman losing the plot in ASDA and running amok with her trolley.
Do it for me, Nell!
Big love
Vix xxx
‘You be the prince and I’ll be Cinderella.’
JJ observed Maya with distrust. ‘Are you gonna kiss me again?’
Maya heaved an enormous sigh and put her hands on her hips. ‘You have to kiss me if you’re the prince. It’s what princes do.’
‘Oh if only it were that easy,’ I whispered to Lizzie who was watching the unfolding scene as we put toffee popcorn cupcakes into individual boxes for the children to take home.
My cousin smiled. ‘Maybe you should try Maya’s theory out on Max.’
‘Maybe you should with Tyler,’ I returned, laughing when she slapped my arm and shushed me as the handsome teacher approached us.
‘So, what’s happening here?’ Tyler asked, strolling up to the Bake Zone table.
‘JJ won’t be the prince because he doesn’t like kissing,’ Maya complained, staring up at her school principal.
‘Ah, I see,’ he winked at Lizzie and I. ‘Well maybe you guys should play something else that doesn’t involve kissing. How about Goldilocks and the Three Bears?’
JJ’s face beamed. ‘I can be a bear. Bears don’t have to kiss anybody.’ He pointed at Maya. ‘And you can be Goldilocks because you have yellow hair and you eat stuff.’
Placated, the pair joined hands and headed towards the dressing-up area.
Tyler laughed and turned to us. ‘And the moral of the story is, if you don’t like kissing be a bear instead.’ Amusement lit his expression. ‘I think we’ve all learned something important today. So, how’d the baking go?’
I held up a cupcake. ‘Pretty good. We’ve baked and frosted today.’
‘They look amazing, Nell. Please tell me there are leftovers.’
‘Of course, Lizzie has them,’ I replied innocently, enjoying the look of muted protest my cousin shot back.
‘Then Lizzie is my official new best friend,’ Tyler smiled, his dark eyes catching the sparkle of the lights in the hall ceiling. I smiled as
he and Lizzie walked into the kitchen in search of cupcakes.
‘Nell …’ The voice beside me was so quiet that I almost didn’t hear it over the noise of the S-O-S Club children in the hall. I looked down to see Declan’s shy smile and crouched down until I was at eye-level with him.
‘Hey Declan. What can I do for you?’
‘Read me a story?’ he asked, his fingers covering his mouth.
‘Of course I can.’ I held out my hand and he took it, pulling me towards the Story Zone. As I sat down with him on one of the large floor cushions he snuggled onto my lap, resting his head against me. I opened the book and began to tell the story, but was suddenly struck by a rush of emotion at the trust the small child had placed in me. To be accepted so completely – especially by a child renowned in the club for his shyness – was a powerful endorsement. When his mother arrived to collect him, the pleasant surprise on her face was all the reward I could have asked for.
‘Thank you,’ she said, shaking my hand. ‘Declan has a mild form of autism and he finds social situations threatening. It takes a great deal for my son to trust someone. What do you say to Nell, Declan?’
Declan’s smile was so fleeting I could have easily missed it. ‘Thank you for my story.’
I can’t explain why the simple act of reading a shy child a story meant so much to me, but it did. Next day when I arrived for work at Annie’s it was still making me glow inside. I felt better here, too: I was beginning to find my feet, learning how to retain orders when I was doing other tasks and keep a cool head when customers lost theirs. My confidence must have been showing because the regulars at Annie’s were beginning to notice.
‘I gotta hand it to ya, Nell,’ Marty said as I refilled his coffee mug, ‘I didn’t think you’d last a week here. But you proved me wrong.’
‘Aw, thanks Marty. Anyone would think you were impressed.’
Marty looked flustered and muttered something about me knowing nothing as Frankie laughed.
‘Ha, Marty, she got you with the compliment! Nice move, kid.’
After the breakfast rush, Annie appeared by my side. ‘Hey Nell, I got you breakfast. Come and sit with me.’
We sat at the table nearest the door and tucked into Dom’s speciality cinnamon iced buns.
‘I just wanted to say thank you,’ Annie said. ‘You’re doing good, girl.’
‘Thanks Annie. I feel more confident now and at least I haven’t repeated my attempt at the orange rolling world record.’
Annie held up her hand. ‘I’m serious. And I know this is more than a holiday adventure for you. I know this is your dream. So, I wanted to give you this.’
She handed me one of the diner’s handled brown paper takeaway bags. Surprised, I reached inside and lifted out a black leather notebook. When I opened it I found page after page covered in Annie’s elongated handwriting.
‘I’ve been writing this for you the last few days,’ she said. ‘I know what it’s like to have a dream and not know how to make it happen. When I opened this place I was as green as they come. Everything I learned about business I learned the hard way. But I don’t want you to have to find out like that. These days nobody has time to learn. You have to hit the ground running and be a success or you lose your chance. And I thought –’ she raised her head and for the first time I saw vulnerability there ‘– if I’d had a daughter, I would have wanted her to be passionate about what she wanted to do with her life. I’d have helped her, any way I could.’
I knew I was staring at her, but I couldn’t help it. Annie Legado – hard-bitten, no-nonsense doyenne of Haight-Ashbury’s iconic diner – was showing me a side to her that I suspected few others were privileged to see. ‘I don’t know what to say …’ I began, emotion stealing the words from me.
‘You’re welcome. I wrote down everything I think you need to know. But keep that notebook with you, in case you want to add more. See, I believe in you, kid. I think you can make a success of your diner if you’re willing to take the leap. And while you’re in this city I want you to know I’ll do everything I can to help.’
Her gift – and the meaning behind it – was the most precious thing I had received and meant so much more than I could tell her right then. I resisted the urge to hug her, reasoning that this might be a step too far, hugging the notebook to me instead. ‘Thank you.’
‘Good.’ Her half-smile was back, the brief glimpse behind the Legado curtain gone. ‘Now, drink your coffee.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Serendipity strikes again
My first week at Annie’s was so steep a learning curve it was almost a vertical climb. One of the things that amused me was Annie’s love of acronyms to describe the items on her menu. S-B-K crêpes were strawberry, kiwi and banana. N-B-P-B waffles were smothered in Nutella, sliced banana and peanut butter chips. C-A-B-Ps were Cinnamon Almond Butter Pancakes, and the ‘P-M-Double-E Scramble’ stood for scrambled eggs with ‘pretty much everything else’.
‘And what’s an “O-M-G”?’ I asked, looking at the list of abbreviations taped to the counter by the cash register. ‘Orange, mango and …? What do we have beginning with G? Grapes?’
Laverne grinned. ‘That’s the Belgian waffle with Nutella, marshmallow fluff, toasted almonds, banana and chocolate syrup. It’s called the OMG because that’s usually what customers say when they see it.’
Annie was proving to be a great mentor, taking the time every day to point out aspects of her business that she thought were important for me. I scribbled notes in the leather notebook that I kept safely in the front pocket of my apron, its existence our shared secret that made both of us smile.
‘Remember that great service is a given but the ethos you present to your staff is your primary concern. Demonstrate to them how you’d like to operate and they’ll provide it to your customers … Never promise anything you can’t fulfil right there and then … We’re here to serve, but don’t be afraid to call the shots when necessary. It’s your business so be prepared to fight to defend it if you have to … Don’t stop innovating. People might like the constants on your menu but they’re looking for the new too … Your specials board is your secret weapon. Even the most habitual customer will venture there once in awhile … Always offer refills. I know it amuses you, but trust me, kid, coffee for free makes people feel at home. Nobody ever got offended by free coffee …’
In the evenings, Lizzie and I talked in great detail about the potential business I could run – possible locations, names, menu items and more. It was a game more than anything, but it fanned the flames of ambition within me, strengthening my belief. Vicky provided long-distance cheerleading from home, too, urging me to pursue my diner dream, ‘because, let’s face it, you’ve more chance of getting a job working for yourself at the moment’.
I didn’t see Max for the rest of my first week at Annie’s but, while it would have been lovely if he had wandered in, it didn’t really worry me. I was consumed by all the new things I was learning in my internship and loving discovering the ambition inside that had lain so dormant for so long. Seeing Max Rossi would have been the icing on the cake.
In my afternoons off I headed out into the city again, discovering more of its delights. One place I found by myself was Crissy Field, a strip of beachside park running from Marina Park to West Bluff at the feet of the Golden Gate Bridge. Here local people came to run, walk their dogs, fly kites with their kids and enjoy barbecues with friends and family, admiring the stunning view of the San Francisco Bay with the city in the far distance. At weekends a flotilla of small, white-sailed yachts studded the deep blue of the Bay, sailing out from Fisherman’s Wharf and Sausalito, navigating past Alcatraz Island and out towards the Golden Gate Bridge.
I think I fell in love with this strip of San Francisco because I didn’t feel like a tourist here. As far as my fellow walkers, joggers, kite-flyers, dog-walkers and barbecue revellers were concerned, if you were there you were one of them. It was a wonderful place to take a bo
ok, relax and watch the world go by. And with such stunning scenery, there was always something to catch my attention. I met some fantastic people there and had some wonderful, serendipitous conversations. Like the lady from Baltimore who told me how she’d tracked down her birth mother to San Francisco after thirty years of searching and had just celebrated her seventieth birthday with her, surrounded by a family she’d never known existed. Or the man taking a break from his afternoon run who turned out to be an ex-pat from Birmingham who had emigrated here to open a beachside diner and spent almost an hour giving me fantastic advice about my own diner dream.
‘Don’t wait for it to make sense,’ he told me, ‘because on paper it never will. I’ve never worked so hard, but I’ve never been happier.’
The Warming Hut, a large cream painted wooden building on the westernmost edge of Crissy Field, became one of my favourite places to buy takeaway coffee. Brenda, the friendly cashier, quickly learned my name and always had questions for me about ‘merry old England’ whenever I visited. She was a big fan of the Royal Family and was over the moon when I told her my mum had met the Queen once at a garden party.
‘How wonderful! And now I can say I know someone who’s related to someone who has shaken hands with the Queen of England!’
After a busy breakfast and brunch shift at Annie’s, sitting here and breathing in the fresh sea air became my favourite place to dream about what I could achieve when I went back to England. I made pages of plans in Annie’s notebook, inspired by the constant positivity around me, and slowly the diner I’d daydreamed about for years started to dig foundations, appearing brick by brick on the pages of my notebook.
It was while travelling back from a visit to Crissy Field on the second Monday I’d worked at Annie’s that serendipity struck again. I was sitting on the Muni trolleybus, my thoughts a thousand miles away, when a familiar voice said my name.
‘Hey Nell.’
Max Rossi was hovering by the empty seat next to me, waiting for an invitation. How hadn’t I seen him walk onto the bus? It had been over a week since I’d last seen him but my reaction was exactly the same: heart rate increasing, everything around me suddenly undulating a little. Remembering my manners I signalled for him to sit.
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