Page 54 of Coffee Shop Girl
Millie gazed out the drive-through window, toward where Ellie and Devin were combing through the weeds. He had his lure in hand. Mud already coated Ellie’s legs up to the knee. Her long hair trailed into the water as she bent low.
“She seems...” Millie’s gaze tapered, then brightened. “Like she’ll be wonderful for Devin. He’s had a hard time since your father died. Summer means he’s either working in the garage with his dad or stuck with me since his friends are all gone or busy.”
Devin crouched in the water and reached for something as it swam by. Ellie laughed when he squirted her on accident.
“I have a feeling you’re right,” I said, filled with unabashed relief.
Maybe we had a fighting chance after all.
* * *
“No,you can’t reverse the steps, or the machine won’t work. I think. I’ve never tried,” I said, lips pursed as I regarded the espresso machine.
Lizbeth grinned maniacally. “Let’s try it.”
I swatted her hand away and jabbed a finger toward the laptop. “Just take some more notes. We can clean this process up later.”
The espresso machine had been tricky to learn, but I’d forced myself through it as best I could when Dad first died. Vaguely recalling his actions from when we’d hung out in the shop on my visits had helped. Trying to picture the behemoth through Lizbeth’s eyes now made it easier to break it down into smaller steps. She’d never operated it before, which forced me to remember all the little details.
Like how to flush it, for one.
Step back,Maverick had said,and imagine you’re seeing this process for the first time. What can you say, and where can you start, to make this successful for your employee?
Lizbeth sighed and leaned over the counter to study what we had already done. The sheer number of things I did to run the shop every day boggled my mind. Documenting them had simultaneously exhausted and validated me.
Lizbeth, who thrilled to the organization and fell more in love with the shop every day, tapped away at the computer. She read aloud what we’d just written, verified processes, and asked questions. Maverick sat at the table, a running ledger of numbers on his computer. Most days he wore a pair of glasses that made him even more attractive.
If such a thing was possible.
“We still haven’t discussed the close-down routine,” I muttered. It had been a week since we started this process, and every day we found more to do. More to clean up.
Numbers to run.
I suppressed a groan. This processalsobrought to light my own weaknesses with glaring intensity. Just this morning, I’d run out of whole milk and had to send Lizbeth across the road to the grocery store to buy more. Half the time, I spent more mental space trying to create a definitive process, then follow and test it. Maybe I didn’t make cappuccinos the best way. Was there another way?
My inventory? A laughingstock.
NowonderAnthony quit in a fiery huff. I kind of didn’t blame him. I should send him a card. Did they even make sorry-I-fired-you-because-I-suck-as-a-boss kind of cards?
“Put drive-through customer service on the list too,” I said. “Maverick will want a process for dealing with difficult customers.”
“Affirmative,” Maverick called from the office in a deep, amused growl. I listened, savoring every second with a fluttering stomach.
“Can I take a break?” Lizbeth asked, eyes hopeful. A new stack of romance books waited in her usual corner. We’d been at this for over two hours. I had to remind myself that it wasn’t herjob to run this place, even though she wanted to help. She was still a teenager and deserved some semblance of a summer.
She’d likely just spend it with her romance novels, but at least she’d be happy.
“Of course.”
With a squeal, she retreated, grabbed her stack of books, set them on the floor, and curled into the chair. Ellie was messing around in the pantry with a few fishing lures I’d given to her and Devin. The two heathens had been running wild outside since they’d met, usually wading in the lake. She impatiently waited for him every morning now. He hadn’t shown up yet, but it didn’t stop her from casting a glare at the door every five seconds.
“Sandwiches for lunch, Ellie?” I asked.
She nodded, her tongue stuck out one side of her mouth.
Outside, a car door slammed. I glanced up to see a willowy figure with red hair and freckled skin standing there, squinting. My heart dropped all the way to my stomach.
Jim.
