Chapter 7
The door clattered open with some force, triggering the bell to ring shrilly as a woman in a Chanel suit strode in, spiking the black-and-white tiles with five-inch, scarlet heels. She barked into her mobile. ‘Yes, action it asap. Should have been done yesterday!’
A young man with shoulder-length hair, in an ill-fitting suit, scuttled behind her, clutching a bulging case and laptop. The woman smoothed her highlighted bob, glancing about the café, lip curled in a sneer.
Who the hell were they? Colleagues rather than romantically attached. And from the woman’s attitude, Sasha guessed they were boss and minion. The woman’s nasal upper-class accent carried across the café.
‘Good morning. I see you have Chinese and Japanese teas, but how about coffee? What’s your bestseller on the menu?’
Sasha felt her hackles rise at the woman’s tone. ‘Well, we’re a matcha café, so tea, particularly matcha lattes, tend to be the most popular choice. Although we do serve coffee too.’
‘Coffee is the most profitable hot beverage, even with the price of coffee beans. But you’re not a specialist like we are, so more profits for us.
’ She reached out a perfectly manicured hand with scarlet talons, shaking Sasha’s hand in a firm grip.
‘Eleanor Jones-Smythe, of Jones-Smythe Properties. We’ve taken over most of the high-street leases, and we’re shortly opening Coffee Bean down the street – one of the latest franchise success stories from across the pond. ’
Jones-Smythe. Sasha had been stressing about the letter and recognized the name. She rescued her hand from Eleanor’s grip but the next words were like a kick to the gut.
‘Are you the owner, Sasha Lee? I believe you should have received our lease extension offer?’
Sasha nodded. ‘Yes, I’m Sasha Lee. I did receive your letter and I’m still – considering.
’ So, this was the new property manager.
She didn’t look as if she’d contemplate lowering the price of the lease to counteract rising costs.
Sasha had been thinking about writing to her but hadn’t been able to convince herself it was worth the effort of finding the right words.
Eleanor waved a hand at her minion, who was studying the photography, not noticing that his files were slipping from under his arm. ‘Casey here will be managing the Bramleigh Green branch of Coffee Bean.’
‘Casey Jones.’ He smiled and stuck his hand out, as a cascade of papers scattered over the floor. Sasha automatically took it, for a brief clammy grip, before he knelt to gather his paperwork, apologizing all the while.
Right. They were also the owners of the new coffee bar. The old greasy spoon, a few doors down over the road, had been covered in hoardings printed with the Coffee Bean logo for a while now. Maggie, the previous owner, had taken the opportunity to retire and join her family, who ran a bar in Spain.
‘We thought it was about time Bramleigh Green came into the twenty-first century.’ Eleanor’s beady eyes took in the cosy surroundings and quirky decor and her nostrils flared in distaste.
‘This is such a cute café,’ said Casey, apologetically. ‘I’m sure there’s room on the high street for us both.’
He seemed tons nicer than his boss, thought Sasha.
‘Casey’s the new franchisee – and my stepson,’ announced Eleanor. ‘We’re your worst nightmare come true, I’m afraid. We’re bringing some healthy competition to Bramleigh Green High Street. And with the quality of our coffee, it looks like we have more than a head start.’
‘Well, that remains to be seen.’ Mr Davis sprang up from his seat and approached the till. ‘Sasha, dear, the bill, please. And do add on a twenty per cent tip for helping with poor Puddles.’
‘Oh no – there’s no need.’
‘Yes, there is a need.’ The older man took the card reader and keyed in a generous amount as a tip. ‘We appreciate the individual service you bring to us, your loyal customers. I certainly won’t be abandoning you for an anonymous American-style coffee chain.’
Eleanor had her phone out and was snapping pictures of the menu and the cakes and various items around the café.
Anger spiked through Sasha. ‘Are you actually ordering anything, Ms Jones-Smythe? Mr Jones? If you’re just taking photos, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’
Eleanor snapped her fingers at her stepson. ‘Do the honours, Casey. But not matcha. The powder gets stuck in my teeth.’
‘Not here. I import our single-origin matcha powder from one of the oldest tea farms in Uji, Kyoto. And I whisk it to perfection,’ Sasha retorted.
She took a deep breath, trying to soothe her irritation. Eleanor Jones-Smythe was completely obnoxious. Did she have to be so blatant about weighing up the competition? As for Casey Jones, he might be throwing her apologetic looks but it sounded as if he was quite the nepo-baby.
‘What’s the Matcha Maker Special?’ Eleanor demanded, examining the board advertising Sasha’s matchmaking service. ‘It’s the most expensive item on your menu – ￡35! What’s so good about it?’
‘It’s a matchmaking service I provide,’ Sasha muttered. ‘I read bubbles in the matcha to help people find a date.’
‘Reading bubbles? Sounds like woo-woo nonsense,’ Eleanor scoffed. ‘There’s big money to be made in dating apps, I’ll grant you, but I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous than “reading bubbles”.’
‘Sasha’s psychic intuition is incredible,’ Mr Davis defended her. ‘Her matchmaking service is quite extraordinary and you won’t find better anywhere else.’ He turned and smiled at Gloria, who was wrapping Puddles up securely and getting ready to leave.
‘We’ll be off now. I’d better get Puddles into a warm bath. Thank you for the blanket,’ said Gloria. ‘I’ll wash it and return it.’
‘Good lord, what a filthy mutt!’ muttered Eleanor.
‘Has it been mud wrestling?’ She held her nose rudely until Puddles and the older couple left.
‘I’ll pass on the matchmaking service, thanks.
I’m perfectly happy with your father, haw haw!
’ She nudged Casey. ‘Just a regular tea, Earl Grey will do. Casey – you should try their matcha latte – one of us has to. And take a few more photos while you’re at it. ’
Sasha frowned. ‘Please don’t post those on social media.’
‘Are you mad?’ Eleanor scoffed. ‘Why would we post pictures of your café on our social media? If you would like help with your marketing, which it seems you are in need of, do take a look at Coffee Bean Bramleigh Green’s pages.
Might give you a few ideas on how it’s done.
Casey!’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Pass Sasha Lee our details. We’ll have those teas to go.
I’ve seen all I need to.’ She strode out, banging the door and leaving Casey to pick up the teas.
‘Someone thinks she’s the bee’s knees,’ commented Daria Carbone. Daria ran the local Italian deli and she’d popped in with her five-year-old granddaughter, Lily, who was feeding her teddy his tea and cake.
‘Bundle of joy,’ commented Mollie, whose sharp eyes had been observing everything from the corner. ‘Your wicked stepmother, is she?’
Casey blushed. ‘She’s all right really. But – yeah – she can be a bit much if you don’t know her.’
The door opened again and Sasha’s heart sank, thinking it was Eleanor again. She was happy to see Klara instead.
‘Hello, everyone!’ she trilled out. ‘I heard a slice of matcha and white chocolate roulade calling “Eat me! Eat me!”.’
‘Coming up, lovely.’ Sasha tried to smile but she was feeling anxious.
‘Hey, what’s going on? Why’s everyone so gloomy?’
‘Nothing’s going on, just had a rather obnoxious customer. Eleanor Jones-Smythe, our property manager. She thinks she owns the whole high street.’
‘Not The Bookery, thank god!’ Klara’s building was owned by her family and she’d inherited the shop when her grandmother retired.
Lucky Klara not to have to worry about lease renewal.
Mollie spoke up. ‘Unfortunately, Eleanor Jones-Smythe does practically own the high street. Eleanor’s father, Hugo Smythe, once owned half the county. Their stud farm up the road is now a hotel and conference centre.’
‘I can only apologize for my stepmum,’ said Casey again. ‘I’m sure Coffee Bean won’t take away your customers – it’s nothing like your lovely café.’
Oops. Sasha had forgotten he was still there.
She dunked an Earl Grey teabag in a takeaway cup and started to whisk his matcha.
‘Oh, gosh, yes, I’m sure there’s room for us all.
’ But when she thought of her numbers this winter she was filled with doubt.
Once Coffee Bean opened, would she see a further drop in her income?
‘Did she come about your extortionate lease renewal?’ asked Klara. And then she slapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh – I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have said anything.’
Sasha flushed. She cast her glance around the café to see if anyone had heard.
Mollie stood to pay her bill. ‘I imagine she would increase the price of the lease. With respect, Casey, your stepmother is renowned for being a bit of a shark.’
Sasha widened her eyes at Klara. Why did she have to say anything?
‘I’m sorry, Sasha,’ said Klara, ‘but this affects your regulars too. If you don’t renew – if you’ve been driven out by a huge increase – then we won’t have a place to hang out in.’
‘Is that what’s happened, Sasha?’ asked Mollie. ‘Is that frightful woman hounding you out of the café?’
‘Er – that’s my stepmother,’ Casey mumbled, but he sounded pretty half-hearted. Sasha felt tears prickle the back of her eyes.
‘Oh, excuse me! Only, your stepmother is the wicked property developer who’s threatening our matcha café!’ retorted Klara. ‘Forgive me if I get angry about the hub of our community being under threat. Are we meant to hang out in your coffee chain instead?’
‘Klara! Leave it.’ Sasha handed the scarlet Casey his teas in takeaway cups. ‘We’ll work something out. Nathan’s coming round on Friday to show us a new dessert he’s developed. Maybe we can think about some other revenue-generating ideas too.’