Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Morning, Anna,” Stella called, hanging up her jacket. “You’re here early.”
“Research,” Anna said, holding up her measuring tape like it explained everything. “I need to document the current spatial relationships before I can optimize them.”
Stella caught Joey’s eye as he emerged from the storage closet with napkins. They’d developed a silent communication system for situations exactly like this—raised eyebrows meaning incoming Anna project, slight head shakes meaning probably harmless, and wide-eyed stares meaning take cover.
Joey’s expression fell squarely in the take cover category.
“What kind of optimization?” Stella asked carefully.
“The Florence Method,” Anna said, stretching her measuring tape from the coffee station to the nearest table. “I spent three months studying how Italian cafés work. Giuseppe’s place near the Ponte Vecchio serves a thousand customers a day with half our space and twice our speed.”
“Giuseppe sounds efficient,” Stella said diplomatically, while Joey retreated behind the register like it might offer protection.
“And now I have a few weeks before my teaching job starts, so it’s the perfect time to implement what I learned,” she said.
Anna moved around the restaurant with careful focus, measuring distances between tables, sketching traffic flow patterns, and occasionally making notes with the intensity of someone solving a puzzle.
Stella found herself oddly fascinated by Anna’s process—there was something beautiful about her complete focus, even when that focus was aimed at reorganizing other people’s lives.
The front door chimed and Tyler walked in, camera bag over his shoulder and the relaxed expression of someone whose biggest worry was finding good lighting.
“Morning,” he said, then stopped when he saw Anna crouched by the coffee station. “What’s happening?”
“Research,” Stella said.
“Optimization,” Anna said simultaneously.
Tyler looked between them, then at Joey, who was now stress-filling salt shakers.
“Maybe I should come back later,” Tyler said, already shifting toward the door.
“No, wait,” Anna said, popping up from her measurements. “This is perfect. I need to talk to everyone about implementing the Florence Method.”
Stella watched Tyler’s face cycle through recognition, mild panic, and the beginning of an escape plan. She’d seen this expression before—usually right before Tyler discovered urgent photography work that required his immediate attention.
“The Florence Method,” Tyler repeated carefully. “That sounds... comprehensive.”
“It’s going to revolutionize our entire service model,” Anna said, consulting her notebooks. “Better traffic flow, prettier setup, happier customers—Giuseppe’s café runs like a perfectly smooth machine.”
Meg chose that moment to arrive, laptop bag already buzzing with phone calls and the harried expression of someone juggling multiple corporate crises.
“Morning,” Meg said, then paused as she took in the scene—Anna with measuring equipment, Tyler looking trapped, Joey hiding behind the register, and Stella watching everything like it was live theater.
“Anna’s implementing the Florence Method,” Tyler explained, in the tone of someone reporting a natural disaster.
“The Florence Method,” Meg repeated slowly. “Is that... a good thing?”
“It’s going to be amazing,” Anna said, spreading her sketches across a table. “See, I’ve mapped out better traffic flow, redesigned the furniture layout for optimal customer circulation, and figured out the perfect way to arrange everything so customers feel happier.”
Stella noticed that neither Tyler nor Meg actually looked at the sketches. Tyler checked his watch. Meg’s phone buzzed and she glanced at it with obvious longing.
“Anna,” Meg said carefully, “people are pretty comfortable with how things work now.”
“But they could be so much more comfortable,” Anna explained. “Giuseppe’s customers don’t just eat—they have an experience. Every detail makes everything work better together.”
“Giuseppe’s customers probably don’t include Bernie,” Tyler pointed out. “Bernie doesn’t adapt well to change.”
“Bernie will love it once he sees how much better everything flows,” Anna said with absolute confidence. “Change is good for people. It prevents mental stagnation.”
Stella caught Joey’s eye. Someone should probably mention that Bernie considered menu changes a personal attack, but neither Tyler nor Meg seemed inclined to bring up that particular detail.
“How long would this implementation take?” Meg asked, in the tone of someone hoping the answer was “several years.”
“I could have everything ready by tomorrow morning,” Anna said enthusiastically. “The beauty of the Florence Method is how simple it is.”
Tyler and Meg exchanged glances—the kind of look that passes between people who realize they’re about to witness either a miracle or a catastrophe, with catastrophe being the heavy favorite.
“Tomorrow,” Tyler said. “That’s... soon.”
“Strike while the inspiration is hot,” Anna said. “Giuseppe always said that artistic vision requires immediate action.”
“Maybe we should start smaller?” Meg suggested. “Test one element at a time?”
“But the Method only works as one big system,” Anna explained. “Changing one piece without fixing the others would mess everything up. It’s like trying to play a song with half the instruments missing.”
Stella noticed that Tyler was edging toward the door. Meg had stopped pretending to ignore her buzzing phone and was reading messages with increasing desperation.
“I should run this past Margo,” Anna said, gathering her sketches. “Get her input before I finalize everything.”
“That’s a good idea,” Tyler said quickly—too quickly. “Very responsible. Taking time to get approval.”
“She’ll love it. Everyone will.” And with that, Anna swept toward the kitchen, leaving Tyler and Meg standing in the dining room with identical expressions of dawning horror.
“She’s going to do it,” Meg said quietly.
“She’s definitely going to do it,” Tyler confirmed.
“And Margo’s going to say yes.”
“Margo’s definitely going to say yes.”
They stood there for a moment, processing the inevitable.
“I have a client meeting,” Meg said suddenly, grabbing her phone. “Very important. Can’t be rescheduled.”
“Festival documentation,” Tyler said, lifting his camera bag. “Critical. Time-sensitive.”
They both headed for the door like people fleeing a sinking ship.
Stella looked at Joey, who was now folding napkins like someone in shock.
“Should we warn Margo?” Joey asked.
From the kitchen came the sound of Anna’s enthusiastic voice explaining her revolutionary approach to café optimization, followed by Margo’s thoughtful murmurs and encouraging questions.
“Too late,” Stella said.
“Think it’ll be a disaster?”
Stella paused, watching through the kitchen doorway as Anna gestured excitedly at her sketches while Margo listened with the patient attention of someone genuinely interested in artistic vision.
“Oh, absolutely,” Stella said. “But it might be an educational disaster.”
“Educational for who?”
“Everyone,” Stella said, as Anna’s voice rose in triumph and Margo’s laughter drifted from the kitchen. “Definitely everyone.”
Joey sighed and reached for more napkins. “I’m going to need stronger coffee tomorrow.”
“We all are,” Stella agreed, then paused as Anna emerged from the kitchen with the radiant smile of someone who’d just received permission to reshape the world.
“Tomorrow’s going to be very interesting,” Anna announced.
Stella and Joey exchanged one final look—the look of people who’d just witnessed their family commit to a beautiful, well-intentioned, inevitable disaster.
“Very interesting,” Stella said.
By the time she was done, the Shack would either be reborn or barricaded.