Page 25 of Billionaire and the Barista

I began ticking off on my fingers what I like in an assistant. “Over twenty-one preferred, a degree, but not necessary if they have proven experience, driver’s license with clean driving record, competent, tech-savvy. They need to be able to think ahead and take care of problems before they arrive. I’m not looking for a bodyguard.”

She nodded. “I have an idea now. I’ll vet the candidates before I set up interviews. What time of day would you prefer to have those meetings, spread out or get them all done at once?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, finding a solution before there is a situation. Before lunch, and all at once.”

“I’m on it.” She left my office.

It had been several days since I had tried to see Gabriella. The entire weekend as I tip-toed around my mother I kept thinking about Gabriella. Her smile, how she looked so beautiful, even while clearly being tired. I kept thinking about how I had missed all those years ago that she owned the café. No wonder she couldn’t come to Europe with me. Why hadn’t she said something?

I wasn’t going to get answers by second-guessing myself. I stood and crossed out of my office, grabbing my jacket.

“I’m out,” I announced as I passed Cameron’s desk.

I needed to see Gabriella, and I was curious if what I had witnessed last week was a fluke or not.

When I pulled in the parking lot at Love Buns, I could only assume that the crush of patrons last week had not been a fluke. It was just as crowded when I walked in the door. Gabriella was behind the counter, another person with her, this time a young woman.

“Can I help you? Oh, hi Nathan,” she said as I stepped up to the counter.

“I was hoping to have a chance to get to talk to you,” I said.

She let out a snort. “I told you to call. I’m really busy today.”

“I can wait,” I said.

“Fine, wait. But it will be a couple of hours, not minutes. You really should just call and we can set something up.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Fine, wait. What do you want while you wait?”

“Chef’s choice. What do you recommend? I’ll take your first two suggestions and a large black coffee,” I told her.

She handed my order to the young woman making the coffee and ringing up the orders. I paid and carried my plate and cup to the seating area. For late morning, the place was more packed than I would have guessed. It was too early for the lunch crowd, plus— I scanned the menu to confirm my thoughts— Love Buns didn’t serve meals, or sandwiches even.

The seating area was full. I spotted a double table with a single person working on their laptop.

“Do you mind? There aren’t any other seats?” I asked.

“Sure, whatever,” the man kept his focus on the computer in front of him the entire time.

As before the cupcake Gabriella gave me was melt on the tongue perfection. It didn’t literally melt, but it was a pleasure to eat, smooth, moist, sweet. I can’t say I properly appreciated a well-made cake before having those perfect little cupcakes from Gabriella.

The last time I was here, the clientele was made up of the dreary after-work labor force. Those people slogging through their week. It made sense they would stop in here for a little ray of happiness to get them through the last few days of the week. This morning there seemed to be a mixed lot of people. Students with textbooks cracked open. Moms with small children in tow getting together. There was more than one person like my table mate with a laptop open in front of them.

How many novels were being written at this very moment?

To the side, there was a self-bus center for dirty dishes and garbage. Next to that was a narrow counter with utensils, extra napkins, sugar packets, and a large tip jar that said Wi-Fi across the front. Above that pinned to a corkboard full of fliers and business cards was a sign pointing down to the jar that said, “help us keep good internet.” The lettering was clear and cleanly written with a black marker. The rest of the sign was decorated by what looked like the crayon scribbles of a small child.

The patrons in the seating area did not come and go. The turnover was fairly low, but they did return to the counter for coffee refills or to purchase another delicious cupcake. So, they weren’t simply working there rent-free.

Gabriella had been right; it was a long time before I even noticed the crowd through the door had slowed to a trickle. I went back up to the counter to ask if she should talk now, but she was gone.

“Where did Gabriella go?” I asked the girl who was still there.

“Gabby’s in the kitchen,” she said pointing to the swing door.

I hadn’t been in that kitchen for years. The prep counters were full of cupcake pans, full of liners, and waiting for batter.

“Gabriella?” I called out.

“Back here!”

I followed her voice and found her elbow-deep in a sink full of dishes.

“I thought you were going to come talk to me when it slowed down?” I asked.

She shook her head and let out a bitter laugh. “Just because there aren’t customers walking in the door doesn't mean it’s slowed down. I didn’t tell you to make an appointment to brush you off Nathan. I’m swamped. I have to finish these cupcakes, and to do that I need my equipment cleaned. My dishwasher had to go home sick last night, and I was too tired, so I gambled that I would be able to take care of everything this morning.” She lifted her soap-covered hands and the dish she was scrubbing out of the suds. “As you can see, I lost. Seriously, make an appointment. The best times are after five on Sunday, after seven Monday through Wednesdays. On Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, you might be able to catch me before ten or eleven.”

“Those are the café hours. If you can’t meet with me until after the café closes, let's do something better. Let me take you out to dinner.”

She smiled. I did not anticipate her answer when she turned me down.

---