Page 88 of Working for the Mob

My rigid body shook in rage.

“You have no right to––”

“Genny can’t go home,” Lucy interrupted. “She’s managing the café. She needs to run it at least until Jamie comes back.”

“This is not what we planned for you, Genevieve,” my father said, his voice as firm as it was patronizing.

“And what about my plans, Dad? You can’t just come here and uproot my life. Our life,” I said, with a gesture to Lucy.

“Your life? Please, in this Podunk Farmville?”

“It’s more than that.”

“I have an idea,” Lucy said. We both turned to her with little patience. Lucy’s ideas weren’t always helpful. “Why doesn’t Dad hang out at the café tomorrow and see us in action?”

“No, Luce. He was there today …”

But my dad beamed at me.

“I think I’d like that. In fact, why don’t I stay for the week? It will give me an idea of why you’re throwing away your entire life.” He stared at me victoriously, like he just won. And I knew why. He thought with more opportunity, he’d be able to convince me what a Podunk Farmville East Lannington really was.

Chapter 26 – Genevieve

The next morning, I expected to slip by my dad, who slept on the couch in the living room. He greeted me in the kitchen, instead. I barely made him out through my blurry vision.

Already dressed, he sat at our breakfast table, with the morning’s newspaper.

“Good morning,” he said, way happier than he should be at 4:30.

“No talking before coffee.”

“I made a pot. I hope it’s not too strong for you,” he said, his mug raised.

The coffee was not too strong. I inherited my taste for coffee from my dad, while my mom prefers her herbal teas.

Dad even offered to drive us to the café, which I only accepted because the temperature was colder than dinner the night before.

I unlocked the café thirty minutes later, fully caffeinated, and ushered Lucy and my dad inside. Lucy immediately escaped to the kitchen to bake her perfect scones, which left me stuck with my dad in the front.

My dad helped me take down the chairs in the dining room. While I stocked the display case, he inspected every Phillies baseball Jamie displayed. I started a pot of boiling water to make coffee, and came back to find my dad studying the display case.

“Would you like anything?” I asked.

“You know, if you reorganize your display case to display every drink in the front, they may sell better.”

Of course, he would try to control me at the work he so disapproved of.

“We don’t need to. We have all the drinks on the menu.”

“Nothing beats seeing that Orange Crush at the front of the case, close enough to taste. I think your sales would increase at least ten-percent just by moving them to the front.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the display case.”

“I’m only saying there is room for improvement.”

“I’m going to help Lucy with her scones.”

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