Lucy popped into the office just as I turned off the screen, her ponytail swishing against her flushed cheeks. She leaned against the doorframe.
“If I want to beat the traffic, I need to pick up my grandmother now. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Go. I’m done here anyway.”
“Thanks. See ya.”
Taking a deep breath, I pushed my chair back and went through my stretching exercises. Tammy’d kept me up late talking about her new boyfriend, and I was paying for the short night with nagging aches and pains. Knowing her, she was just now rolling out of bed to fix the kids breakfast before she and Bethany went shopping.
Jasper leaned on the counter when I joined him, head resting on his hands. I tapped my foot against his. “You’re selling coffee, not naps. No wonder it’s so quiet in here.”
He snorted and straightened theatrically, pretending he could tower over me. Maybe on a good day, when he gelled his hair into spikes, instead of the floppy bedhead he was sporting this morning.
“I’m marketing the damsel-behind-the-counter ambiance. You’re welcome,” he said with a grin. “Besides, you have a customer.”
He reached past me to snag a fresh pastry from Théo’s tray as our star baker slid it into the display, adding the sweet and savory scents of spices to the dark notes of coffee.
Théo tsked and whipped him with a cloth. “These are for paying customers.”
I blinked, tempted to grab one myself. “I have a customer?”
“Yup.”
“What? They asked for me?”
“Yup. Walked up to the counter and straight-up asked if you were in. Then ordered an espresso. Made by you.” He stepped back and pointed towards the corner booth.
I was still processing that someone asked for me by name when the Niren rose from their seat and approached the counter.
“Good morning,” they said.
Their resonant voice washed over me and shook me out of my thoughts. I belatedly remembered to smile. “Good morning. One espresso?” They were early today. I hoped that didn’t mean they were leaving… I didn’t often meet customers as captivated by espresso.
“Yes. Thank you.”
I let Jasper handle the payment and turned to Gandalf, determined to make them the perfect espresso. Anyone who asked for me by name deserved perfection, at least. Gandalf sputtered a little as I put it through its paces. A quick tuning of a dial here and a gentle tap there smoothed its flow. The result was an espresso I was proud to serve any customer—this customer—especially if it was their last at our café.
“Here you go. Enjoy.”
“Thank you.”
As they retreated to the corner booth, I couldn’t help but watch them glide across the floor.
“OMG,” Jasper whispered. “They’re gorgeous, aren’t they? Look at them. It’s like they’re floating.”
I couldn’t deny it. They were gorgeous. “And they like my espresso.”
“I’m not surprised. As much as we tease you about Gandalf the Roasted, you do make the best espressos. Few bother with our names, though. Have you served them before?”
I nodded, secretly flattered they’d made an effort to read my tag. “They had espresso yesterday, too.”
“Oh. A fellow enthusiast. Nice.”
For as long as it lasted. I had so many questions about what they were doing in Princedelphia. But hotel guests coming in this early meant one thing… they were going home.
New customers trickling in—regulars and hotel guests alike—stopped me from thinking too much and helped me focus on why I loved working here.
A tiny wisp of a customer, dolled up in pink, made a beeline for the display. “Yes. I made it. Théo’s crème renversée is the reason I brave traffic this early.”
It made me smile. Making customers happy, one coffee—or signature dish—at a time, even the more outrageous and complex combinations. They weren’t always to my taste, but they were fun to make. And those unguarded smiles after their first sip or bite? Worth it.
When the bell above the side door chimed, I sneaked a look at the corner booth, half-expecting the Niren to be gone already. My heart jumped a little at the sight of them still nursing their cup—which had to be empty—and the way they were smiling at…
“Morning, beautiful.”
There was only one person Jasper greeted with such besotted conviction—Riley from IT. Her curly pixie cut framed a radiant, rich brown face with expressive amber eyes. But why would the Niren be smiling at her?
“Morning, Jasper. Sam.” She hoisted her tote bag over her shoulder. “Can I have a flat white to go? And a black with two sugars for Dad in ten minutes or so? He’s running a little late.”
“Ten minutes? O-okay.” Jasper rolled his shoulders in what he probably thought was casual, but it screamed “pick me!”
Poor boy. I didn’t think Riley was aware her smile turned him to mush. Besotted or not, he had yet to mess up an order when she was around.
“How’s the renovation going?” I asked as I rang up her order.
“Funny you should ask. Layla found us a new temp.” She nodded towards the corner booth. “Rick’s over the moon and super impressed already. I only briefly met him when Rick showed him the ballroom.”
I let out a slow breath as my heart raced. Not a guest. Not leaving. If anything, we might have gained a regular.
Jasper put the flat white on the counter. “Still working on that special project?”
“Yup. I’ll tell you more about it soon. Going to see if he’d like company.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask their name, or his name. Riley referred to the Niren as he, but she also mentioned she’d just met him. I swallowed the question and grabbed a broom to keep from staring at them. “Going to tidy the patio.” Tidying helped me clear my head.
“Better put your phone on the counter before you do that… boss.”
I glared at him. “It happened one time!” Well, one time on the patio.
“Sure. That’s why your kid threatened to buy you one of those senior folk phones.”
One of Julian’s friendlier threats regarding my phone. I shook my head and sighed. “He put the repair store’s number in my emergency list.” Also known as David Drummond—Riley’s dad—for when I inevitably broke it… again. The reason I wasn’t still using my trusty clamshell—never even scratched that one—was the lack of a decent camera. No more grainy images of our kids.
Jasper laughed. “Ouch. I’m sure you deserved it, though. I’ve heard the stories.”
Baristas gossiped like our machines mid-rush when it came to me being a tech klutz—loud, constant, and impossible to ignore. “Where are the days when staff respected management?”
“Feared, you mean. Nah, man. We respect the hell out of you, but you can’t blame us when you’re ribbing us about your precious Gandalf all the time.”
“Fair enough.” I’d never wrecked a coffee machine, at least. I took my phone out of my pocket and handed it over. “Guard it well, young damsel behind the counter, and leave Gandalf alone.” Though, out of all of them, he and Zane were the least likely to wreck it.
Jasper held it against his chest. “My precious.”
Goof. Shaking my head, I went outside and made the patio presentable. Straightening chairs, putting up the umbrellas, giving the tables a quick wipe. Anything to keep myself from staring at the Niren, now I knew they were staying. None of it helped me clear my thoughts, though. What was it about this customer I couldn’t stop thinking about? I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had a crush on anyone after Tammy and I divorced.
Speaking of… Riley and the Niren walked out together—Riley talking a mile a minute, though not at her usual decibel level. The Niren looked glorious in sunlight, from the color of their skin to their vibrant blue eyes.
They nodded as they passed, while Riley waved. “See ya, Sam.”
I must have smiled like a total sap, waving the cleaning cloth about. “See ya, Riley. Give your dad my best.”
“Will do,” she replied over her shoulder as they crossed the plaza.
I stood there, holding the broom and cleaning cloth, and stared, enchanted, even after Riley disappeared towards the underground parking. I couldn’t turn away. The way the Niren moved across the concrete, it appeared like they were floating. I was still holding my breath when the hotel’s doors closed behind. With one last glance and a few deep breaths—and renewed hope I’d see them again—I stepped back inside.
For a moment, it seemed Jasper was going to comment, but then he shook his head and handed me my phone back. The ping of the doorbell saved me from explaining away what he probably understood better than anyone. “Thanks.”
He winked and turned to the customer. “Good morning. Welcome to Café Magnifique. How can I help you?”
I feared more gossiping in my future. If it wasn’t just the two of us manning the counter, I’d have escaped into the office, but maybe it was better that I couldn’t.
