Page 32 of Working for the Mob

“Is there anything wrong?” Jamie asked.

“Art asked me to check in and make sure everything is going alright.” He shot a jerky glance at Lucy. “I better be going.”

“Stop by anytime,” Jamie said.

He left in a rush, as though we chased him out.

“So, he is Art’s partner. Even though he’s …” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “Is that allowed?”

“Of course, it’s allowed,” Jamie said, and for the first time in the two days I worked for him, he sounded cross. “We’ve got Quaker roots here. We’ve always pushed for equality, and the Necci’s won’t hear a word against it.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, I shut it. Probably the first smart thing I’ve done since arriving in East Lannington. This wasn’t how things were done in the city.

“I think I’m really starting to get the hang of this cash register thing,” Lucy said to Jamie, as though nothing happened. My mood brightened a shade. Lucy needed something to be good at besides makeup and boys. “I even got through customers faster than yesterday.”

“Getting the hang of it?” Jamie asked, his previous tone forgotten. “Ladies, today we went through more customers than ever. Our sales hit a new high! And it's all thanks to you two.”

“Us?” I asked, confused. I gave Lucy credit for bringing in some more of the manlier customers, but I hadn’t contributed anything.

“Yes. Both of you,” Jamie said. “Do you know how many compliments I’ve received about the coffee?”

I felt a red heat cover my face––the first blush in East Lannington that didn’t have anything to do with Art. I had convinced Jamie to order better beans from Turnersville and buy a grinder, I even offered for him to take the funds out of my own paycheck, although he refused. However, they weren’t in yet.

To hold me over, I played around with Jamie’s coffee ratio until the coffee was a tad stronger without using too many grounds.

“Keep this up, and you’ll be putting me out of a job,” he said, and I suppressed a smile. I was nowhere near ready for that responsibility.

“This is just a bad batch of bread,” Lucy said, and put her sandwich down.

I looked at my mostly eaten turkey sandwich. She had a point. I even saw some of the customers picking their meat out of their sandwiches and eating it by itself.

“I’ll be sure to let them know,” Jamie said.

???

No one offered to give us a ride home that afternoon. Instead, Lucy and I trudged our way back to our cottage.

“I don’t think we should serve our customers the bread from that new bakery tomorrow,” Lucy said, before I could even lock the door.

Jamie needed to run errands for the café and left us the key.

“It’s just not good,” she continued. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Me neither,” I said, barely listening. I just wanted to get off my feet. “I mean, it’s not like we can cook the bread ourselves.”

“You know what I’d do to make it better? And it’s more than just that they don’t use salt. No, it’s just like how mom taught us. You have to control the humidity.”

My mom had tried and failed to teach me baking, but Lucy always helped her in the kitchen whenever she had a chance. It was the one time I can remember them bonding.

“Hang on, Luce,” I said, and stopped. “I just had a thought: why don’t you do it? Why don’t you bake the bread?”

Lucy laughed off the idea. “Please. I can’t bake for the entire town! It requires a professional. And an oven!”

“But you just diagnosed what was wrong with the bread, and a ‘professional’ baked that. And we can use the oven at home! We just need to go to Art and ask him to buy us the ingredients and …” I trailed off. I hadn’t heard from Art all day. I wasn’t sure whether we were currently speaking or not. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to evenseehim or not.

And I had no clue where Jamie was.

“Never mind. We don’t have the funds,” I said, glumly, and headed back to our house.

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