Chapter 6
Chapter 6
The following day at work, my siblings’ offers keep rolling through my mind. I’d rather give up my favorite brand of lip gloss than work for either of their businesses—and if you’ve ever found that perfect shade with long-lasting ability and low gloop-factor, you’ll understand just how serious I am here. But . . . there’s a but, and it’s chewing on my brain, making it hard to focus on my work.
There’s a part of me that admits there’s truth to what they said. Not a part of me that feels like telling any of them this, but a part all the same. Working at the Cozy Cottage Café has been safe and easy, and I’ve kind of got myself stuck being a barista, enjoying the work environment, the people. Not feeling like I need to do a whole lot more with my life. All my siblings are super successful and know what they’re doing. They’ve got drive, determination, direction, and all the other d-words that mean they’re doing so much better than me.
What am I so darn scared of?
After we’ve closed the café for the day, I’m sweeping the hallway leading to the bathrooms when the door bursts open and Paige appears. She’s holding her hand over her mouth, her eyes bulging as she dashes past me and closes the door to the ladies’ with a loud bang behind her.
I knit my eyebrows together. Is she sick? She sure looked green around the edges from the blur I saw on her way down the hall.
It’s none of my business so I get on with my task of sweeping up. My mind begins to wander as I work. Maybe it’s one of the cakes? Or the chicken we use in the toasted paninis? I say a little prayer it’s not the chicken; I ate two sandwiches with it today, and the last thing I need to add to my directionless, dateless, treading-water existence is food poisoning.
A few moments later, Paige reappears at the door. She looks a little less green, but definitely not out of the vomit woods yet.
I rest my broom up against the wall and ask, “Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“Did you eat the chicken? Please, don’t say it’s the chicken.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not the chicken.”
I let out a relieved puff of air. “Thank goodness. One of the cakes? Was the cream cheese off?”
Again, she shakes her head. “I hope not! We stake our reputation on the high quality of our cakes.”
“What do you think it is, then?”
She presses her lips together as she looks at me. “Sophie, we need to talk.”
“We should talk? But why?” My voice is suddenly breathless as my heart rate kicks up a level. Does she think I had something to do with her hurl fest? Did I inadvertently do something to make her sick?
Is she going to fire me?
Okay, maybe I’m being a touch drama queen-y right now. But seriously, how many people react rationally when they hear the words “we need to talk?”
Here’s the thing about my job: it might not be super important, it might not be saving lives (that’s Jason’s department), it might not be making me squillions, but I love it. The Cozy Cottage Café is my home.
If I lost it, I’m not sure what I’d do.
“Is something wrong?” I ask nervously. “I know I’ve been late a couple of times in the last month, but it’s really because of the bus I take and all that new construction down on David Street, you know the ones? What am I saying? Of course you know them. Everyone knows them. They’re making everyone late. But I’m not usually late, you know that, and really, it was only by four or five minutes, six tops.” Okay, seven easily, but I’m not trying to dig my grave here, people.
“It’s okay, Sophie. Let’s take a seat out in the café,” Paige says by way of reply, which isn’t a reply to my question at all, in my opinion.
Feeling increasingly desperate, I follow her through the door like I’m walking the line. With every step, I will her not to fire me. Even though rationally, other than the aforementioned lateness, I know I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s like when you see a policeman, you instantly feel guilty, even if all you’re doing is walking your family dog in the ’burbs down to the local store to buy a newspaper for your old-fashioned dad on a sunny Sunday morning.
But I digress.
We remove some chairs from on top of one of the tables and sit down. The room is dim, lit only by the light emanating from the kitchen on one side and the large street-facing windows on the other.
As I look at Paige, I hear Sean’s voice in my head, telling me to wait for the other person to speak. Well, I blew that strategy out of the water back in the hallway. But now, as I sit in silence at the table, waiting for the guillotine to drop, I take Sean’s advice and keep my mouth firmly shut.
Paige places her hands on the table, palms down. “First up, you’re not being fired. You need to know we love you more than anything and the last thing we want is for you to leave us.”
“Thank you,” I gush. “I was worried for a moment there.”
“And you know I’d never noticed you were late.”
Great job, Sophie.
“Oh, it’s only been a couple of times.”
“It’s fine, really. You’re an excellent employee, Sophie, and our favorite barista.”
“That’s good to hear.” I grin at her. “So, what’s going on? Why do you need to talk to me?”
“Well, I’ve got some news.”
It’s the look on her face that makes me put two and two together. Her rush to the bathroom, her need to share something with me. It’s got nothing to do with me at all!
“You’re pregnant?” I chance.
She nods, a gorgeous grin busting out over her face. “I am. Twins.”
“Twins?” I jump up and give her a shoulder hug across the table. It’s awkward as all heck, but then hugging your boss is meant to be awkward, right? “Oh, that’s wonderful news. Congrats! When are you due?”
“At the end of the year. We’re having Christmas babies.” She can’t keep the excitement from her voice, and I don’t blame her. One day, I want what she’s got: a loving husband, a family, a place in the world. Right now, I’d settle for a decent date.
“I bet Josh is super happy.”
“He did cartwheels in the back yard when I told him. Literally. Actual cartwheels,” she says with a giggle. “And then he had a T-shirt made for me.”
Josh is famous for his cheesy but adorable geek T-shirts with coffee puns. As he runs Ned’s Coffee, a super successful roasting company who supplies our beans, it’s kind of his thing, I guess.
“What does the T-shirt say?”
“It says, ‘New human beans growing here,’ and it’s got an arrow pointing down to my belly with a picture of two beans in diapers.”
“Cute!”
“I’m not quite game to wear it yet, especially as we’ve only just started telling people. But I wanted you to know. The morning sickness has been killing me.”
Until this afternoon’s dash, I’d not noticed Paige being anything other than the bubbly, sweet, and professional boss she is every day.
“Morning sickness sounds like it’s misnamed, that’s for sure.”
“Totally. I get sick at all hours of the day. I threw up into Josh’s shoe in the closet last night.”
“Euw.”
“I know, right? I didn’t make it to the bathroom. I’m not sure he was overly impressed.”
“He loves you, so he’ll forgive you in a heartbeat. But I think that maybe that falls into the ‘too much information’ category for your employees.” I shoot her a playful smile.
She lets out a laugh as she stands up and places the chair back upside down on the table, and I do the same. “I guess it is. Come out to the kitchen. Bailey and I have something else we need to talk to you about. Nothing bad,” she adds hurriedly.
“Good to know. By now, you must know my imagination can run wild.”
In the kitchen, Bailey’s doing an inventory check in the refrigerator when Paige calls her out. She looks at us both standing by the counter and says, “Oh, it’s time for the chat?”
“Sure is. I just told Sophie about these mini-cakes I’m baking in my belly.”
“Isn’t it exciting?” Bailey says with a huge smile on her beautiful face as she joins us.
“I had no idea,” I reply honestly.
Bailey pats Paige on the back. “She’s hidden it well. Now, Paige being pregnant is the reason we need to talk to you.”
“You want me to take on some more shifts? Not cooking. I warn you; I can burn water. And I’m not just saying that. Mum asked me to boil some water to steam the beans a couple weeks back and I burned the pot. True story.”
Bailey laughs. “Best we not ask Sophie to do any cooking then, Paige.”
“Good job we didn’t have that in mind.”
“You know we think you’re great, right, Sophie?” Bailey says.
“I didn’t, but it’s good to hear,” I reply, which isn’t strictly speaking true. My two bosses are such lovely people, they’re always telling me how good I am at making coffee and how much they like working with me. I’m playing humble, lapping it up. Do not judge me. I’m on a low ebb and I need this.
“Well, we do,” Paige says, “plus we know you have a finance degree, which might come in handy.”
My interest is more than piqued. “For what, exactly?”
Paige glances at Bailey, who pulls out a fresh pink T-shirt with the words “Cozy Cottage High Tea” written in looping text across the chest.
“Cute shirt! Is that part of the new High Tea uniform? Did you want me to do some shifts there? Because I’d be happy to. I love it at High Tea.”
“Here’s the thing,” Paige begins. “I’ve been having a tough time of it with this pregnancy, and on doctor’s advice, Josh and I have decided I should take a step back for a while.”
“So, with Paige having to be out of the picture, we wanted to ask you if you would like to be the weekend manager at Cozy Cottage High Tea,” Bailey says.
“Excuse me? You want me to manage High Tea at the weekends?”
They both nod.
“But . . . that’s the busiest time.”
They both nod again, although it takes my brain a moment to catch up. “Seriously?” My voice is squeaking like a tiny mouse, high on helium now. “As in not just make coffee, but do managerial things like—” I wrack my brain for what managerial things might look like, but in my shocked state all I come up with is, “telling people what to do?”
More nods, this time accompanied by amused smiles at my obvious inability to fully comprehend what they’re offering me.
“As in be the manager, as in be responsible for the business’s profitability? As in be the boss ?”
Bailey laughs. “Yes! Until Paige is back on her feet.”
“After these babies are born,” she adds.
“Sophie, your background combined with your love of the Cozy Cottage will be a total asset. I really hope you say yes.” She glances at Paige. “ We really hope you’ll say yes.”
My mind ticks over. Managing High Tea would be a dream job for me. Still the Cozy Cottage, but new and exciting.
Not only that, but Sean and my sisters might even see it as career-worthy for me. Perhaps they’d even drop the intern idea?
Paige bites her lip, her eyes bright. “Are you up for it? Because you have so got to be, Sophie. We don’t trust anyone else to take care of High Tea the way we know you will.”
“We would give you a pay raise, of course, and I’ll help you transition,” Bailey adds.
When I don’t reply immediately, Paige says, “You don’t need to give us an answer right now, Sophie. Take your time, think about it, talk it over with your family.”
“Yes, we’ll give you a full five minutes, right, Paige?” Bailey says with a smirk.
Excitement rises inside me at the prospect of managing the gorgeous brick building next door, with its kitschy cute scones and finger sandwiches, popular with the female population of Auckland.
I know what I want. It feels like this chance has been handed to me when I needed it the most.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it, overbearing older siblings!
“Actually, I don’t need five minutes,” I say. “I don’t even need one minute. I would love to be the weekend manager at Cozy Cottage High Tea.”