Now, after three weeks of operation, Sandy was beginning to feel more comfortable in the confined space and wasn’t always colliding with the girls when in a hurry. She now reached for products instinctively without having to think about where they were.
Scooping ice cubes made of coffee into a cup, she opened her mouth to offer Terri some advice, but the girl was still talking.
“He’s like this Drama Club genius, too. He’s working with the Astor Street Opry Company this summer. Should I ask him if he wants to come by for a mocha?”
This time she waited for an answer. Sandy poured hot coffee over the coffee cubes, which would prevent dilution of the flavorful brew, then replied as she squirted in cream and put a lid on the cup, “Of course. We need all the customers we can get. And it would be good for him to see you at work.” She added a straw. “He’ll be impressed.” She handed the drink to Terri, who passed it out the window and took payment.
“What if I mess up?”
“Everybody messes up sometime. I’ll bet even Ryan does. We all understand that about one another. Just don’t forget there’ll be other customers besides him. Don’t give him all your attention.”
“Right. Calli will be here early tomorrow, anyway.”
“Good. Okay, if you’ve got this, I’m going home. Please don’t forget the two raspberry mochas and the caramel-vanilla latte for the fire department. Somebody will be by to pick them up around 4:45.”
Terri indicated a note she’d attached to the register. “I won’t. Have a good evening.”
“You, too.”
Feet sore and brain frazzled from the long day, Sandy would have loved to stop at the Urban Cafe for a piece of chocolate cake and a glass of white zinfandel, but she knew her mother would have picked up the girls at daycare half an hour ago and was probably eager for some peace and quiet. So Sandy headed home.
She sang to Garth Brooks as she made the turn onto Fifteenth Street. The day had been a good one all in all, despite her sore feet and her whirling brain. She was making a small fortune, she thought with quiet delight. She looked forward to sitting down with the books after the girls were in bed tonight and getting a picture of how she was really doing.
Judging by the activity at Crazy for Coffee, she was doing wonderfully well; she just wasn’t sure how income weighed against expenses at the moment.
She was enjoying herself more than she’d expected to. Panic had set in just before she’d signed the contract, and she’d worried about whether she was doing the smart thing. But, skeptical Dave now stopped twice a day, on his way to work, and on his way home, and called her by name. He’d retracted his “passable” judgment on her white chocolate caramel mocha and now deemed it “superior.” She was flattered out of all proportion.
She’d acquired other regulars after just a few weeks of operation, she had a good working relationship with her two-woman staff and she was beginning to feel she knew the ropes. Maybe she hadn’t done the smart thing, but she’d done the right thing.
Keeping a distance from Hunter seemed to be restoring a certain balance to her life. She didn’t think about him all the time—well, she did, but pushing him out of her mind was easier. It also helped that he, apparently, was trying to stay away from her.
Jonni had been making Raleigh & Raleigh’s morning coffee run. Sandy managed to get all the nonprofits on their list to report to Hunter directly so that she didn’t have to serve as go-between, and deliberately choosing a time when she knew Hunter would be too busy to answer his phone, she left him a message about having checked the city’s calendar of events, and suggested the last weekend in July for the opening of the Clothes Closet.
When Jonni had made the pick-up this morning, however, she’d told Sandy that Hunter wanted her to look over the spreadsheet with the competing nonprofits’ incomes, expenses and proposed projects. Sandy had rolled her eyes. “Can you bring me the spreadsheet?” she’d asked Jonni.
Jonni hung out her window to take the coffee carrier and bag of scones and handed Sandy a twenty-dollar bill. “He wants to talk them over with you. Phone me and I’ll make sure his schedule’s clear.”
So, maybe she’d lost that one.
Sandy noticed Bobbie’s truck parked in front of her house as she pulled into her driveway. That was nice. She could always use a dose of Bobbie.
And besides, if she had to see Hunter she could do it. She was on her way to being a successful businesswoman, and was now too busy to long for him anymore. She was done with that.
The girls came running out as she turned off the engine and opened her door. They had colorful smears of paint up to their elbows and paint all over their faces. “We’re painting flowers with Bobbie!” Zoey announced.
“I see that!” Sandy smiled as her friend walked out of the house. “Hey, Bobbie! What’s going on?”
“Gramma had a emergency!” Zoey announced.
“Oh, no.” Sandy’s beleaguered brain forgot everything for a moment to worry about her mother. “Is Mom all right?” she asked Bobbie over the top of the car as her friend waited on the steps.
Bobbie nodded. “I think so. She just said she was feeling kind of punk and didn’t want to give the girls or you anything. You can’t afford to be sick.”
“Did she see a doctor?”
“Yes. He thinks it’s just a bad cold complicated by allergies. He told her to lay low and stay out of crowds. She’ll be better in a week.”
A week. Genuinely filled with sympathy for her mother, Sandy still couldn’t help fretting about how she would handle her domestic logistics for the next week. Her mother was right. Sandy couldn’t afford to be sick. But—selfishly—Sandy couldn’t afford for her mother to be sick, either.
She pulled herself together. “Thanks so much for stepping in, Bobbie. Where are the boys this afternoon?”
“I’d just taken them to Karate Class when your mother called. I don’t pick them up until 5:30.”
Sandy gave her a quick hug as they stepped inside the house. A wonderful aroma drifted from the kitchen. Sandy sniffed appreciatively.
“Spaghetti sauce,” Bobbie said. “I took the liberty of starting dinner for both of us if you don’t mind lending me a bowl to take some home. I brought the makings, but forgot a container.”
Sandy hugged her again. “You are an angel.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you can do in the mornings until your Mom is well.”
“Thanks, but that’s not for you to worry about. I’ll figure out...”
“You should call Stella,” Bobbie interrupted.
Sandy didn’t want to frown except she couldn’t help it. Stella was a lovely woman, yet her proximity to Hunter...
“I know,” Bobbie went on. “But she’s a consummate professional where kids are concerned. Like another mother. And she probably won’t even mention Hunter to you.”
“Probably?”
“Well, you know, she’s his mom and she thinks he’s pretty wonderful. We all do.”
Wanting to sidestep any discussion of Hunter, Sandy asked, “But what’ll you do without her? The kids are out of school. You won’t get any painting done if you...”
Shaking her head to stop Sandy, Bobbie went to the stove and stirred the contents of the large pot. “I’m taking the boys to Southern California to visit my father for about ten days. We won’t need Stella until I get back.” She dipped the spoon into the sauce, held a hand under it and offered it to Sandy.
Sandy gingerly tasted the sauce and found it garlicky and wonderful. “Excellent. Good thing I don’t have a boyfriend. That sauce will keep vampires at bay. You’ll have to make sure Nate eats as much as you do so you won’t offend.”
Bobbie laughed. “It’d take a twelve-foot stone wall to keep us away from each other. And even then, Nate has rappelling experience.”
Sandy envied her friends their love for each other, which nothing could deter. She wanted that kind of love; she just didn’t seem able to find it—or to inspire it in someone.
“Thanks so much for today, Bobbie. I owe you big. And I’ll phone Stella right after dinner.”
“Good.” Bobbie pointed to the corner of the kitchen where she had the girls do their painting on a tarp. “I hope it was okay to use that. I found it in the garage. And good job on getting the light bulb changed, by the way. It’s nice to see what you’re doing in there. When I helped you put your Christmas decorations away, I thought I’d kill myself.”
“Hunter replaced the bulb,” Sandy admitted, “the day of Addie’s birthday party.”
Bobbie’s expression was unreadable. Sandy guessed that was deliberate. “Well, he’s always the gentleman. I’m sorry we slopped over onto the floor with paint, but it’s water-based, so it should wash up fine. I’ll clean it before I go.”
Sandy dug a bowl out of the cupboard and spooned spaghetti sauce into it. “You’ll do no such thing. I’ll handle it. I already owe you...what?” She cast a glance at Bobbie as she fit a lid onto the container. “What could possibly pay you back for all the help you’ve been to me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll think of something big.” Bobbie gathered car keys and cell phone, then accepted the bowl Sandy had covered with a lid and wrapped in a towel.
Sandy walked her to the door and down the steps, then stopped her to say seriously, “Truly, Bobbie. There are so many times when I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Oh, Sandy. You flew a thousand miles to spend the day with me when I had my first chemo session, you got me the commission for your office and rented me your little house so I could come to Astoria to do the work. It’s time you got a little payback. Will you open the passenger door so I can set this down?”
The spaghetti sauce safely stowed on the floor, Bobbie turned to give Sandy a hug. “How’s it all going at the coffee cart? Are you glad you bought it?”
Sandy was able to answer honestly. “I am. It was the right thing. I’m checking income and expenses tonight so I can figure out how I’m really doing.”
“Good. I’ll call Stella and give her a heads-up.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Sandy waved Bobbie off then went back inside to admire the girls’ artwork, which they had posted all over the refrigerator with magnets. “And, Mommy, come see!” Addie caught her hand and dragged her toward the garage. “I painted my car!”
Sandy flipped on the light and immediately spotted the red kiddie car on the workbench. Addie had painted Tow Mater’s signature prominent teeth on the front of her car, and a daisy on the side. Bobbie’s hand in the expert rendering of the teeth was easy to see.
“Bobbie helped her.” Zoey held up her wand. “And we made my wand brighter. ’Cause, you know, that makes it better.”
Smiling, Sandy admired the car and the wand with glitter added in the center, appreciating her friend even more than she had. After escorting the girls back into the kitchen, Sandy led the cleanup from their painting. The girls set the table for dinner while she dialed her mother.
“Hi, Sandy,” her mother said in a quiet, croaky voice. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry—no problem here. I have everything handled. But I’m sorry you’re sick. It came on suddenly.”
“Tell me. One minute I was fine, the next I had to phone Bobbie to pick up the girls. She’s such a doll.”
“I know. Mom, do you need something for dinner? I can bring you eggs, or cottage cheese, or...” She began rummaging through cupboards, hunting for sick people food. “How about chicken noodle soup?”
“Thanks, but I have no appetite whatsoever. And I’ve got a few things. I’ll be fine. You just stay away and keep the girls away so nobody gets this. You don’t have time to be sick, and if the girls get sick, you’ll get sick.”
“I’ll drive over and look in on you Sunday.”
“No. Keep your distance. I’m serious. I’d feel terrible if I gave you my germs. I’m going to sleep a lot and just take it easy. Doctor’s orders. I’ll phone you when I’m feeling better and we’ll all do something together.”
“Mom...”
“Sandy, I mean it. If I know you’re worrying about me, I’ll worry about you, and that isn’t good for either of us. I’ll check in by phone every day, I promise.”
“Okay.”
“Will you take the girls to work with you?”
“No. Stella might be able to help us. I’ll talk to her tonight.”
She heard her mother’s sigh of relief. “That’s good. So, they’re all right?”
“They are. They want to say hello. Hold on.” She gestured the girls to the phone. They told their grandmother about painting the car and the wand with Bobbi, and about riding in Stella’s car. “It has something in the seat that warms your bottom!” Zoey said.
Addie giggled and asked Sandy, “How come we don’t have that?”
“Because our car isn’t that fancy.”
“Well, let’s get a fancy one!”
Absolutely. Right after your college education and a furnace that actually works.
The girls finally said goodbye and Sandy added a quick, “Call me if you need me!” as her mother hung up.
Sandy served dinner and listened again to the same stories they’d told her mother.
It was almost nine before the house was quiet. Sandy spread out her bookwork on the dining table but was interrupted by the telephone. It was Stella.
“Bobbie told me about your situation,” Hunter’s mother said with her customary good cheer. “I’m sorry your mom’s not well, but I’d be happy to help until she can take over again. I’ll come by just before you leave the house. What time do they go to daycare?”
Sandy explained the routine and promised Stella she would have most of the day to herself once she dealt with early morning. Sandy suggested a generous sum in payment. It would be only for one week, and she couldn’t imagine what she would have done had Stella not been so understanding and willing.
“It sounds workable,” Stella said.
“Thanks for being a friend, Stella.”
“That’s what it’s all about, sweetie. See you at 4:00.”
Relieved that such an enormous problem had been so easily solved, Sandy focused again on her paperwork. She studied receipts, determining to get everything entered into the computer as soon as she had a moment. Her cash registers were programmed to separate all sales into categories, but she still had to enter all other purchases and expenses. She had looked into contracts as Hunter had suggested and that had been good advice. It gave her a heads-up on the Porta Potty that was two hundred dollars a month, which she hadn’t considered in her initial plan.
The paperwork for the cart insurance she’d intended to take out as soon as possible fell out of the folder in which she kept all her notes. She put the insurance quote aside, hoping she could write a check for it tonight, as soon as she’d figured how she was doing. And Jonni had phoned to tell her she’d emailed Sandy the payroll calculations for her two employees. Sandy had to write those checks tonight, too.
Preparing payroll was a monthly expense she intended to handle herself as soon as she had a moment to breathe. Jonni promised to help her through the first time. Right now, having it done for her was a convenience that smoothed out her first month in business.
An hour and a half’s review of her figures proved that she was holding her own. Covering all her start-up costs had eaten up considerable income, so she wasn’t doing quite as well as her nonstop busyness suggested, but tourist season should help her further improve business. She had enough income to cover her business expenses, meet payroll and pay her personal mortgage and utilities, but cart insu
rance, she realized, would have to wait until next month. Being without it made her uneasy, but at least she wasn’t driving the cart, and there wasn’t a lot that could go wrong in something that size.
She also worried a little about the continuing expense of daycare. But she put that out of her mind right away. It wasn’t a problem yet, and she refused to borrow trouble.
* * *
HUNTER GAVE THE HOOD of his mother’s old Saturn a final swipe with the chamois and stepped back to check his work. He walked around the car to make sure he hadn’t missed a smudge.
“Beautiful!” Stella praised from her doorstep. “You want some lunch?”
“No, thanks. Try not to get stuck in a slough again, okay? Not good for the undercarriage.”
She made a face. “Sound advice. I wish you could do for my shoes and black linen pants what you did for the car. Walking—rather, slipping—out of the slough wasn’t good for my undercarriage, either. That’s what I get for trusting the GPS.”
“Yeah. Well, it’s always smart to watch where you’re going, even with GPS. Especially when you’re guiding a ton of steel.”
“My heavens, but you’re full of sound advice this morning, aren’t you? Want to come in and see what Glenda sent you to help stock the Clothes Closet?”
“Sure.” He curled up the hose onto the reel, gathered up the chamois and bucket.
She held the door open for him and he noticed that she looked tired. “Not sleeping?” he asked. She had an occasional problem with arthritis in her knees.
“No, I’m fine. I’m just helping Sandy for a few days. It’s only Tuesday and already I’m pooped. She keeps terrible hours. I don’t know how she does it.”
“Why are you helping Sandy?” he asked, dumping the contents of the bucket into the sink and rinsing out the bucket. “And how?”
“I’m watching the kids when she goes to work until daycare opens.”
“I thought her mom was doing that.”
“She has a cold...and allergies. Doctor told her to lay low for a week.”
“And Sandy called you?” He placed the chamois to dry over the side of the sink and washed his hands. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine Sandy calling his mother for help.
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