Chapter 42
42
Ruth
I procrastinated. There was no other word for it. Bryan had given me the agency agreement but I hadn’t signed it yet. I’d thought he’d been joking when he’d offered to post it, but no. ‘People will speculate enough as it is,’ he’d said, ‘without them seeing me hand you a large envelope when I come in for my morning coffee. No need for them to get a head start before you’ve signed on the dotted line.’
We’d compromised and he’d slid the plain white envelope under the cafe door on Monday afternoon. The document was languishing on the bedside cupboard. I’d read and re-read it while I’d been lying in bed at night and then wondered why I hadn’t slept well.
I desperately wanted to not procrastinate any longer, nevertheless signing was a huge step for me to take. Rosie’s Cafe had been my focus for over five years. Every ounce of energy had been channelled into making it a profitable business, one I’d built from the ground up. How would I fill my days without the cafe? Who would I be when I stopped being Ruth from Rosie’s Cafe? No longer a successful business owner and employer? Extracting myself was shaping up to be as big an upheaval to my life as making the original seachange had been. Only now I was five years older and weary along with it. Considering all this made my dithering explainable and understandable, if only to myself.
Life went on. Customers still wanted warm muffins with their morning coffee. Audrey Franco found something else to moan about and the hospital admin girls both went down with Covid. Elliot did need new prescription glasses but his teeth were in good shape. My headaches had eased somewhat. Managing the stressors in my life by getting more exercise and eating a healthier diet was bound to be helping. There’d been no news from Gordon about the car and the carport remained empty. He’d had the station wagon for almost a week and because days could pass without me using it I kept forgetting to check on its progress. I’d see the empty carport when I went outside to peg a load of washing on the line or squirt some water on the long-suffering plants and it’d prompt me ring. Unfortunately, my forays into the backyard were always after five thirty when he’d already closed for the day.
Thursday, after Liz had left for the day, I was clearing tables when a young woman came into the cafe with a toddler in tow. She hovered by the door, eyes darting around the room, finally settling on the menu. She looked familiar, but then when you owned a cafe in a small country town, most people who came through the door looked familiar. Giving her time to decide, I carried on through to the kitchen with a tray full of dirty dishes. When I returned to the counter, wiping my hands on a towel, she hadn’t moved. The toddler was crawling around under table eight, weaving between the chair legs, giggling.
‘Something I can get you?’ I said. ‘I’ve turned off the grill but I can zap a slice of quiche or toast a sandwich, if you’re after hot food.’
‘Are you Ruth?’ she said.
‘I am.’ I was beginning to suspect she wasn’t here about food or drink. I came around the counter, conscious that the two old biddies sipping Lady Grey at table four were all ears. ‘How can I help you?’
She licked her lips, crossed her arms and said, ‘I’m a friend of Angie Daniels and she said—’
‘Oh, are you Joanne?’
‘Yes! It’s taken me this long to drum up the courage to come in, I thought you would have forgotten.’
If the old biddies leaned much further forward in their seats trying to eavesdrop they’d topple over onto the floor, face first. I grabbed a paper serviette and jotted down my mobile number.
‘Here,’ I said and handed it to her. ‘I can’t leave the cafe now but I close at four. Ring me and we’ll work out something.’
She clutched the flimsy serviette and nodded vigorously. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said. The toddler crawled out from under the table, as if he’d sensed his mother was on the move again. I beamed at the old biddies and went back to work.
I was mopping the floors when the phone rang. It was after four and Mia was refilling the dog bowl we kept outside. When I answered the call, Joanne told me she could come around on Saturday afternoon.
‘What’s the occasion?’ I said. No answer. ‘I’m not prying, Joanne. It’ll give me a bit of an idea what clothes might be suitable.’
‘Oh, okay. It’s an … er … family thing. I need to look really, really good.’
‘Day? Night? Formal? Smart casual?’
‘Er … I dunno … just something that makes me look good?’
‘Right. We can start there. I’ll see you Saturday.’ Bemused, I went back to the mopping. Going on the skin-tight leggings and baggy T-shirt she’d been wearing when she’d come into the cafe earlier, Joanne’s fashion sense and style was likely similar to Angie’s: practical and economical. Nothing wrong with that, for most occasions.
Mia finished at five. She’d topped up the sandwich-filling containers, restocked fridges and the sugars, sweeteners and condiments on the tables. I’d recently changed serviette brands and the new ones weren’t as robust, but they were cheaper. Of late, every time I phoned through an order the total was more than the previous one, for basically the same items. If wholesale prices kept increasing I’d have to consider putting my prices up. Not a happy thought. Over five years I’d only made one across-the-board price increase. Coffee was different. The prices went up at least annually and there’d always be a backlash from a handful of customers.
It was nearly six when I turned off lights and went through to the flat. The days were rapidly shortening. The weekend after next would see the end of daylight saving. It wouldn’t be long before soup was back on the menu every day. When I checked my phone there were two new voice messages: one from Bryan and the other from Gordon. Bryan wanted to know when I was going to sign the agency agreement and Gordon apologised for not getting back to me sooner about the car. He mentioned the words auto electrician , and I shuddered.
A cold, crisp glass of white wine was the ideal accompaniment to the Thai-style fish cakes with sweet chilli sauce I sampled for dinner. They were next week’s lunch special and had arrived frozen from the wholesaler. The second glass of wine went down too easily. By eight thirty I was yawning and struggling to keep my eyes open in front of the television. I should have gone to bed.
The phone rang. It was on charge in the kitchen. I leaped off the couch to answer it and almost tripped over my feet.
‘You sound as if you’ve been running,’ Hamish said after we’d said hello. He was in Adelaide.
‘Just getting up off the couch. I think my doctor might be right, I do need to get more exercise. What’s happening?’
‘Nothing of any real consequence. Had coffee this afternoon with Cate, my favourite niece. I have another appointment tomorrow afternoon and then I’ll drive back.’
He didn’t offer any more about what the appointments were and I told myself to be satisfied with that. I chattered on about Laurie’s visit to inform me the physio had given him the all clear to start doing the floors again, Gordon’s glacial progress with my car and whatever else popped into my head.
He cut across my prattle with, ‘Have you signed the agency agreement yet?’
I blew out a breath and flopped back onto the couch. ‘No, not yet.’
‘Ruth, Rosie’s is never going to sell unless you put it on the market.’
‘I know, I know …’
‘Have you changed your mind?’
‘Bryan asked me the same thing. And like I said to him, no, I haven’t changed my mind. There is no other choice than to sell, whether it’s now or next year or the year after. The only difference is I’ll be totally exhausted by then.’
‘It’s only the agency agreement, Ruth, you can still change your mind. What’s really holding you back?’
Ridiculously, tears welled in my eyes. I scraped at them with the back of my hand.
‘Ruth?’ he said. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s hard to let go, Hamish. I started Rosie’s from nothing more than an idea and a dusty old building. And what am I letting go of it all for? It’s not like I’m selling up because I want to go off travelling or because I want to buy a unit in a retirement village—not that I can ever see myself wanting that. Besides, I can’t afford to retire yet and I haven’t got a clue what I’ll do to fill in my days when I don’t have the cafe.’
I heard a door slam at his end, then voices followed by the tinkle of a woman’s laughter.
‘I’ve gotta go, Ruth,’ Hamish said. ‘Sorry. Can we talk more when I get back?’
‘Sure,’ I said, nonplussed, pushing myself upright on the couch. A woman’s laughter. One of Hamish’s appointments? I was intrigued. And a tiny bit agitated.
I opened my mouth to ask if everything was all right, but he’d already gone.
* * *
The golf ladies filed in, all ten of them, after eleven the following morning. They were in high spirits, with windblown hair and rosy cheeks. They dragged tables six and seven together and promptly ordered up a storm. I was on my own and found myself dithering about what to do first. Not like me at all. I stopped, took several slow breaths and began with the coffees, teas and cold drinks.
What would be a better arrangement, I decided as I ground coffee beans, frothed milk and mixed chai lattes, was if Erin worked at the end of the week and the short-shift girls did Tuesday and Wednesday, the slower days. Most people didn’t mind waiting a bit, but only until they deemed they’d waited long enough. My aim for the cafe had always been to have something on the table in front of the customer within five minutes of them ordering, even if it was only cutlery or a glass of water. Today’s influx made that impossible.
And then Liz was late. Only by five minutes, but when you have a full house with customers waiting, every minute counted.
When two o’clock came, Liz and I were in the kitchen. She’d barely cracked a smile all shift and was making moves to leave. ‘Would you mind staying on for another half an hour?’ I said, taking in the stacks of dirty dishes, the overflowing bin and the depleted supplies.
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Ordinarily I would, but I’m off to the hairdresser. Sorry, Ruth.’
Rarely had I heard a more insincere apology. ‘All right, but before you leave, would you be prepared to work Tuesdays and Wednesdays instead of this end of the week, if the others were willing? I have Erin for more hours and Thursdays and Fridays are the busier days.’
‘Can’t she work more days? Allie used to. And what about Lorna?’
‘Lorna’s mum isn’t that well and Erin can only work two days at this stage.’ My stomach clenched. Why was I explaining to her? She worked five hours a fortnight. She could either agree to what I’d asked or not. Or at least agree to think about it. ‘It was just a thought, Liz. I haven’t mentioned it to any of the others.’
Her mouth pinched up like a prune. ‘There used to be three of us over lunch, Ruth. Today was ridiculous. Maybe you just need to bite the bullet and employ another casual.’
Her words were like a slap. ‘Maybe I do,’ I said, stretching my lips into the parody of a smile. ‘But that is my decision.’
Her eyebrows lifted, only a fraction and I would have missed it if I hadn’t been watching closely.
‘I’ll think about your suggestion, that’s all I can promise,’ she said. ‘And I’ll mention it to Gayle, if you like.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t. Let me talk to Erin first.’ I knew full well she’d be scrolling through to Gayle’s number before she was out the door. Out of all my employees, I liked Liz the least. She was a reasonable worker and relatively reliable—if everything went her way. Gayle was much more amenable. A more astute employer would have talked to her first. I could have kicked myself. I’d spectacularly sabotaged the idea before it had gained any traction. This is what happened when you opened your mouth before you’d thought things through.
There was a noisy throat-clearing out at the counter. Why people didn’t ring the bell …
‘I’d better get that,’ I said. ‘See you tomorrow. Don’t keep the hairdresser waiting.’ I sidestepped Liz and scuttled out to serve.
I had to practically shoo the last customer out the door at four o’clock and it was almost dark when I finished up and went through to the flat, back aching and feet burning. How many more times would I have to do all of this?
Before I was sidetracked, I fetched the agency agreement from the bedside cupboard and put it on the kitchen table with a pen alongside it.
When I fell into bed just before ten, I remembered that I hadn’t made my daily call to Elliot.
* * *
Hamish came into the cafe for breakfast first thing Saturday morning.
‘You look mighty pleased with yourself,’ I said when I delivered his coffee. ‘Good trip to Adelaide?’
‘Productive,’ he said. ‘You look buggered.’
I glanced around. The closest ears were at table one. I leaned in and said in a hushed voice, ‘Would you mind coming around later this afternoon? I need someone to witness my signature on a document.’
‘What time?’
‘Five?’
‘Done,’ he said. ‘So you’ve decided to go ahead?’
‘There was never any question about that. I just needed time to get my head around it. Even now—’ The front door opened and a group of four regulars came in. It’d be full breakfasts all round. ‘See you at five and thanks,’ I said and whizzed off.
Mia was already at the coffee machine and Suzie would start at ten. Two staff—luxury. As much as I hated to admit it, Liz was right: I needed more help. Forget trying to save money on wages. Erin had been working for a fortnight and she was coming along nicely. She was certainly no dynamo but she’d quickly cottoned on to the routine and what needed to be done. The customers liked her. The same couldn’t always be said of Liz.
Joanne came to the flat at three thirty like we’d arranged, only it’d completely slipped my mind until she tapped on the sliding door. And I hadn’t sorted through my wardrobe for garments that might be suitable for her special occasion, as I’d promised I would.
‘I can come back another day,’ she said when I apologised. The way she shuffled her thong-clad feet and worried at the hem of her T-shirt, I knew she’d bolt if I said yes and I wouldn’t see her again. That would be such a shame.
I invited her inside. ‘Let’s look together,’ I said. ‘When you get home you’ll need to air whatever it is you choose. The clothes have been shut in the wardrobe and they get a stale smell about them, even though they’re clean.’
‘Like an op shop,’ she said.
‘Sort of.’
An hour later we’d settled on a pair of tailored black linen-mix trousers and an emerald-green silk shirt. She spun slowly in front of the full-length mirror, admiring her svelte silhouette.
‘They fit as if they were made for you,’ I said. ‘Classic. An outfit like that is always in fashion. You can borrow the shoes as well, if you like.’ I’d rooted out a pair of patent black court shoes for her to try on with the trousers.
‘I’m okay for shoes, thanks. These are tight and they pinch a bit.’
Before she left with the outfit stowed in a plastic garment bag, we talked about how she might wear her hair on the day. ‘And makeup?’ I said. ‘Do you wear much?’
‘Nope, only lip gloss sometimes. Sunblock. Decent makeup is expensive. Do you think I should I wear more?’ Her eyebrows knitted together with concern.
‘No! You have lovely clear skin. Stick with whatever you’re comfortable with.’ She hadn’t given me any more details about the occasion except that it was a week away, it was important and she was very nervous about it. ‘Scared shitless’ were her words.
I’d barely seen her out, insisting she didn’t need to get the clothes dry-cleaned afterwards, that I’d see to them, when Hamish arrived. He drove his ute into my empty carport.
‘Who was that?’ he said.
I spread my arms and said, ‘Welcome to Ruth’s Community Wardrobe.’
‘Say what?’
‘Her name is Joanne, she doesn’t have much and I’ve loaned her an outfit to wear for a special occasion she has coming up.’
‘Very generous and community spirited of you.’
‘I’ve got way too many clothes that I don’t wear anymore but they’re too good for the op shop. No way am I having the likes of Audrey Franco and Daphne Russell pawing through my precious cast-offs. I’ll have you know, I have clothes I bought when I lived in Paris!’
I laughed at the look on his face.
‘You sound pretty chirpy,’ he said as he followed me into the flat.
‘I have two days off starting now. Today we had a great shift all round. Mia is terrific to work with and Suzie can be fun, when she’s not whingeing about whatever drama is currently taking over her life. And after yesterday—’
‘What happened yesterday?’
‘Just an awful, busy, never-ending day.’ I sat at the kitchen table and picked up the pen. ‘Thanks for doing this,’ I said and signed on the dotted line, right where the iridescent arrow pointed. Then I pushed the document towards him and he sat down and followed suit. When he’d signed, I returned the pages to the envelope. ‘Have you got time to stay for a drink? Hot? Cold?’
‘Wouldn’t say no to a beer,’ he said.
I fetched him a beer, poured myself a glass of wine and put out a board with cheese and crackers.
‘Now, where were you up to when we were talking on the phone Thursday night? When I had to go?’ he said.
‘I don’t really remember what I was raving on about. Doesn’t matter now because I’ve signed the agreement. I’ll personally deliver it to Bryan first thing Monday morning. I don’t care who sees me.’
He opened the beer and fiddled with the cap. ‘I do get it, Ruth. It’s one thing to think about doing something and quite another to actually do it. That takes courage, no matter how much you’ve convinced yourself it’s the correct thing to do.’
Something about the way he said it made me wonder if he was referring to my situation alone. But I needed a break from thinking and talking about selling the cafe so I didn’t press the issue. I changed the subject instead. ‘How’s the renovation coming along? Has your bikie mate come up with any plans yet?’
‘Ah, the renovation …’ He folded his arms and rested the beer bottle in the crook of his elbow. ‘Think I might’ve got a bit carried away there. I’ve decided to shelve the idea—for the time being, anyway. Even the cheaper option Jeff gave was way more than I’d ever imagined.’
‘Are you disappointed? You seemed intent on making the renovation your project.’
‘I was, but then common sense reasserted itself. Seeing as how I’ve already bought the paint, I’ll go ahead and paint the place, see what I can do to smarten up the kitchen and the bathroom, finish tidying up the front and back yards and then put the place on the market.’
‘Well, you always were going to sell it. Sensible not to make the same mistake I did and sink all of your savings into it.’
‘There’s a difference, Ruth. You were passionate about what you wanted back then and you made it happen. It’s served you well, until recently. It didn’t take much for me to talk myself out of renovating the house, which makes me question whether it was the right decision in the first place.
‘So, I’ll mark time for a bit. Take it a day at a time. I’ve got nothing to lose, nowhere else to be at the moment. And there’s more than enough to keep me occupied here. I’m even considering a holiday.’
‘A holiday? Now there’s an idea. The minute this place is off my hands I’m going to Far North Queensland to lie by a swimming pool, read, eat, drink and be waited upon. Trouble is, I might never come back.’
He smiled and held up his empty beer bottle. ‘Go again?’
‘Why not? Now that I’ve signed on the dotted line I feel in the mood to celebrate.’