Page 38 of Working for the Mob

I followed Genevieve into the kitchen and Lucy froze. “Oh. I didn’t know you were dropping by.”

“Good evening, Lucy,” I said.

“He wants to sample the product,” Genevieve said, and rolled her eyes.

“I’d love that!” Lucy said, and handed me a piece of bread. “I know that this crust isn’t as flaky, but look at this glossy interior––it springs back when you press on it. And those bubbles are perfect. Here, taste it.”

She eagerly thrust a piece of bread in my hand and I put the first morsel of food in my mouth in hours.

The bread had flavor! It wasn’t dry either; perfectly moist. I wanted more. I could eat this as a meal.

“This will do for tomorrow,” I said, and Lucy let out a high-pitched squeal.

“I can’t wait,” she said, and jumped up and down. “Genny, we’re going to be sellingourbread at the café tomorrow. Isn’t that the bee’s knees?”

Genevieve glowed with pride, and smiled fondly at her sister.

“I’ll reimburse you what you paid for the ingredients,” I said. Genevieve nodded, but I don’t think Lucy heard me. She cradled a loaf and rocked it like a baby. “Is this a one-time thing, or could you do this again tomorrow night?”

“Oh, God,” Genevieve said, but her sister looked so excited, she nearly dropped her bread baby.

“You mean I get to do this again tomorrow?”

“As long as it continues to taste this good,” I said, but Genevieve held up her hand.

“Hold on,” she said. “We need to talk about some terms.”

“But Genny, Iwantto do this,” Lucy said.

“We need to talk about wage and rent. For both of us. I don’t want to keep working without knowing whether I’m making money or going into more debt,” she said.

I frowned. The two ladies couldn’t afford the rent on a house this size while working at the café. I had planned to let them continue to stay rent-free and pay them an allowance until they had enough to leave town. But now, I could pay Lucy as a baker and Genevieve as a bookkeeper.

Terms also meant paperwork, which I didn’t want. Of course, now I could make Genevieve complete the paperwork herself and just sign everything at the end.

“Deal,” I said, and held out my hand for her to shake. When she grasped my hand, I didn’t get the anticipated fireworks; maybe the interaction was too business.

“Yes, wedoneed two more shipments. How soon can you get them to me?” I asked Pete, our groceries distributor.

“Maybe by Monday?” Pete’s raspy voice said over the line.

It was already late Friday afternoon.

“I need them yesterday.”

“You can try Carl in Turnersville?”

I had already tried Carl. He couldn’t get me the shipment until late next week.

“Monday’s fine,” I said, exasperated, and hung up.

The war scuffle with the Valuncias made everything more difficult. The whole town felt like a boiler about to burst under the pressure. The supermarket already had to raise its cost of goods just to generate a profit.

Genevieve sat across from me in the office, her nose buried in the ledgers. Dark bags lay beneath her eyes as she worked––probably because of me. She and Lucy had worked day shifts and then baked every night this week. And I wouldn’t let them stop now either. The lines at the café were as long as they had ever been. People commented on how much better the bread was today compared to the last vendor.

After Genevieve’s morning shifts at the café, she would work for me in the office. She had already made it through two of our client’s work orders and was halfway through a third one. I couldn’t have completed that much work in two months.

She also picked up the accounting side of the job quicker than I expected her to. People went to school to learn how to bookkeep, and she taught herself the basics in an afternoon.

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