Page 52 of Working for the Mob

He followed Lance out of the restaurant in a huff.

“We should get back to work,” Jamie said, and looked at the ever-increasing line of customers.

Something clicked. “Hey, can you guys cover for me real quick? I have an idea,” I said, and took off down the street.

“Wait, you can’t leave us during the morning rush! Genny!” Lucy yelled after me, but I didn’t turn around.

Bert’s delivery van sat parked outside of the café, filling three prime spots in front of the café, but I didn’t have time to dwell on that. I headed to the supermarket and bought enough wax paper for fifty sandwiches and stopped at Miss Dunham’s on the way back.

“Hey Genevieve, how are you?” Miss Dunham asked.

“Miss Dunham, do you have a table we could use during our lunch hour at the café?” I asked her.

Miss Dunham’s eyebrows jumped to her hairline at my question. Then she scrunched up her face and stroked her chin. “You know, I think I’ve got just the thing. Hang on.”

Miss Dunham disappeared into the back of her shop and returned three minutes later with a long table, sturdy enough for me to dance on.

“I wiped it down to get all the blood off it.” I winced and prayed no customer would notice. “You want this outside the café?” she asked.

“That’d be perfect.”

I helped the butcher carry the table to the door of the café and thanked her for her help. The delivery truck was gone; Jamie must have had them pull around to the back.

I rushed in the store and approached Jamie while he carried a tray of coffee to waiting customers. “I’ve got a plan.”

“Congratulations. I’m busy.”

“I got us a table. We’ll make the sandwiches during the hour we’re closed and then sell them outside. And we’ll throw in a free drink to everyone who buys a sandwich as an apology for not having seating for them.”

Jamie stopped bringing out coffee and bit his lip in thought. His face was unreadable. Finally, he nodded his head.

“That’ll work,” he said at last. “We may need you to help out during the rush. I’ll talk to Art.”

I knew that the mountain of paperwork waiting for me in Art’s office was down to an ant hill. Art wouldn’t disagree.

“That sounds good,” I said, and ran to the counter to fill the orders that had piled up beside Lucy.

“Is that a corned beef sandwich for you, Mrs. Jenkins?” I asked, and handed her the wrapped sandwich. As the last customer of the day, I gladly handed over the second-to-last corned beef sandwich.

Mrs. Jenkins took the sandwich and nodded. “You’re not as ornery as I first thought you were. You must have been spending a lot of time with your sister.”

I forced a laugh. “Thanks, Mrs. Jenkins. You’re not too bad yourself.”

“Thank Lucy for that loaf of bread yesterday,” she said.

“She’s right there if you want to tell her,” I said, and indicated Lucy behind me, filling a drink for a customer.

“I think I will. Lucy!” Mrs. Jenkins called, and pulled my sister into a conversation.

Jamie brought the closed sign from inside the store and placed it on the table in front of us. He laid his hand on my shoulder. “You saved the day for us, Genevieve. No wonder Art wants to keep you so close.”

I glowed from the praise, but couldn’t help myself. “You mean he doesn’t think that I’m a self-righteous dolt?”

Jamie barked a laugh that Art could hear down the street. “No. Of course not.”

“Oh, good. Because … um. I overheard you two talking, the first week we were here and ... he called me that.”

Jamie wore a fatherly expression. “Art can be a little prickly around the edges. How can I put this nicely? He can come off––”

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