Page List

Font Size:

She drew in a breath. Hiring a man with the razzle-dazzle of a talk-show host had not been what she’d envisaged, but she was here in Hanrahan to remake herself, wasn’t she? Rigid and fussy, that was the old Vera. This new Vera had to be flexible.

She could adapt. ‘Barista, you say.’

‘My lovely, I can make you a latte that would make an angel sing.’

She fought down a smile. ‘That’s quite a claim. Do people outside of the city know how to make decent coffee?’

He threw his hands up in mock horror. ‘Such prejudice. Skinny flat whites, iced long blacks, affogatos—show me your machine, lady, and I’ll show you caffeine heaven.’

She grinned. ‘Sheath that indignation, Dundee. I believe you. Unfortunately, the espresso machine hasn’t arrived yet.’ She eyed him, wondering if he reallywouldsuit. Graeme the barista was clearly a small-town people person—she’d need that, because she sure as hell wasn’t any good with small towns. Or people. She could barely run her own messed-up life. ‘Do you have references?’

He winked. ‘All sorts. What skills are you needing referenced?’

‘Coffee-making, obviously. But I’ll be needing more than a coffee that can—um—show me heaven. I need a front of house person. Like a maître’d of a restaurant. Someone who knows the customers’ names, keeps the peace when someone decides their skinny-soy-half-strength-with-a-quarter-sugar isn’t hot enough. Someone who can keep an eye on young staff and check the milk order when it arrives and balance the till. Who isn’t above giving the loos a quick swab when the waitstaff are slammed.’

‘Oh,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘You need a miracle worker. The answer, then, is yes. I can do all of that and more.’

Graeme sounded too good to be true. She frowned. This café was the only way she was going to be able to keep an income coming in if the worst happened and her lawyer couldn’t keep her out of prison. She couldn’t afford to not ask tough questions, not when so much was at stake. ‘If you’re such a hotshot, Graeme, how is it you’re out of work? And why are you burying your barista awesomeness in Hanrahan?’

He shrugged. ‘Love and lust, Vera.’

Did he just say—

He must have read her look of befuddlement, because he laughed. ‘I know, right? Who would have thought Hanrahan was such a hotbed of romance for middle-aged guys like me? I moved here to be closer to my partner Alex about a year ago, but it’s well past time I found myself some gainful employment. And Marigold—have you met her yet? Town busybody? Heart of gold and impervious to snubs?—well, she showed me your advertisement and said fate was giving me a gentle nudge.’

‘Fate?’ God, she hoped not. She was hoping the disastrous string of events which resulted in her placing the advert in the local paper had come to an end. She’d had quite enough of fate for the time being … especially as her own never seemed to arrive as gentle nudges. Her fate felt like it was being flung from a distance by a vengeful goblin.

Graeme smiled. ‘Marigold is a bit of a hippy. She throws words like fate and karma and mindfulness around like she’s throwing frisbees for a pet dog … I blame it on the yoga.’

They had moved deeper into the room, to where tape marks on the old floorboards marked where the new timber veneer counter would be installed, and she did a survey, wishing the hard work was done already. To her right, tall sash windows looked out over Paterson Street to the small park, and a soot-stained fireplace of dark brick soared from floor to ceiling.

To the left, more windows framed the view of lake and mountain that had driven the monthly rent up to a worryingly high amount.

This café was a gamble, and one she couldn’t afford to lose: if fate had truly brought Graeme to this moment of decision, desperation had been what had brought her. She shouldn’t employ the first person she interviewed, no matter how sweet he seemed. She had a lot riding on this café, and so did her aunt.

She racked her brain for another employer-like question to ask. ‘Have you been out of work long? I’ll be needing someone who can put in a full working week. There’ll be some early starts, too.’

‘I know the drill, Vera. The thing is … I get a bit antsy when I have too much alone time. I’ve been building an extension on our house which has kept me flat strap, but I’m happier surrounded by a bit of bustle.’

Alone time. Sounded like bliss to her, and she was hoping for plenty of it herself now she’d moved to Hanrahan. She didn’t know anyone, and no-one knew her. She’d learned her lesson: getting involved brought nothing with it but hurt and betrayal, and she was so done with that. Her relationships from now on were going to involve her, her battered pile of recipe books, and the never-ending list of tasks she had to complete to get this café up and thriving.

She made a snap decision. Graeme didn’t look like a bad bet, and she needed a barista. A fun one with charm to spare was just icing on the cake. ‘Okay. Why don’t we say a four-week trial? I’ll pay above the going rates, but only just, because I’m pretty much broke. I’m hoping to open a week from today, and there’s plenty of work if you want to start sooner.’

Graeme held out his hand. ‘You’re making the right decision, boss.’

She grinned at him, because really, who wouldn’t? He was one hundred per cent adorable. And besides, she had a good feeling about this arrangement. Her new (and only) employee was like the fire to her hydrant, the dazzle to her drab. The more he kept the customers entertained, the more she could devote herself to her pots and pans in the privacy of the commercial kitchen out back.

‘When you say I can start sooner … I do have a few ideas.’

And so it began, she thought. Her café was no longer a one-woman dream. ‘Ideas? Like what?’

‘Are those bentwood chairs I see, tucked under all that plastic?’

‘Yes. Mahogany stain. I was hoping for some club chairs in a cigar-coloured leather, but my bank manager was starting to look pale and sweaty whenever I asked if I could extend the overdraft.’

Graeme moved forward to lift the plastic and inspect the exposed wood. ‘Now, where’s the fun in getting it all perfect at once? These chairs will look lovely … old school, to suit the building. What’s the age of this place, Federation?’

‘Nineteen ten, according to the lease I signed.’