Two users had arrived early in the morning. One had arrived in the evening. There was only one early afternoon computer user, who signed in at 1:05. Bridget felt her shoulders slump as she read the name.
“Phoenix DeBuque.”
Who the heck is Phoenix DeBuque? she thought with frustration. The name meant nothing to her. It had not come up in the course of her investigation, and she’d never heard her employees mention the name, either.
“Helpful?” Mary asked hopefully.
Bridget shook her head. Her tone was sorrowful as she said. “Nope, not really. Well, at least I tried. Thanks, Mary.”
“Please tell your father I said hello!” Mary said.
When Bridget returned to the café at 12:45, she saw that Sara had arrived early. Her dark, straight hair was up in a bun, held in place with red chopsticks that matched her ruby red painted lips. Her ebony white skin was as flawless as ever, and she wore her typical uniform of a white blouse and black slacks. There was a man lugging a bulky camera standing next to her. Sara flashed a smile and waved. “Bridget! So glad you’re here. Is it okay if we get started?”
Bridget pasted on a smile to match her friend’s, as if she wasn’t having one of the hardest, most stressful days of her life. “Sure,” she said. “What can I do to facilitate things?”
“Just get back there and do your thing,” Sara said. “We’ll want some footage of you and your crew working behind the counter and helping out customers. Then I’ll ask you a few questions, and Craig here will get your answers on film. I might also quote you in the article I eventually write up. It’ll just be general stuff about the business... you know, history, organizational elements, mission statement if you have one... that sort of thing.”
Bridget applied a fresh coat of lip gloss and tried to smooth down a few strands of her hair, which had been blown this way and that by the light spring breeze.
“You look great,” Sara said. She turned to her cameraman. “Craig, you ready to roll?”
Bridget took the cue and headed for the counter. She slipped through the hinged door and joined the crew of baristas already working. There was a small line of customers at the register. Bridget wished she’d gotten more sleep the night before—the bags under her eyes were sure to show up on film. She didn’t want her exhausted facade to be splashed across the Dayton City Newspaper’s website when the post about Glitter Cup went up.
This isn’t about me, she reminded herself. It’s about the company. And the sooner I get done with this filming, the sooner I can get back to investigating.
I wonder who Phoenix DeBuque is?
For the next fifteen minutes, she searched the corners of her mind for any memory of the name. At the same time, she helped her crew provide drinks and food items to the café patrons who ordered.
Sebastian was functioning like an old pro at the register. He was spending enough time with each customer to make them feel appreciated and welcome, while still keeping the line moving.
Bridget was in the middle of loading a few fresh gallons of skim milk into the fridge beneath the espresso machine when she heard a commotion.
“What’s he doing?” Sean asked.
“Is he leaving the register... again?” Christine said. “I thought he learned his lesson about that the last time.”
“When he walked Pat to her seat?” Adrienne said with a laugh.
Bridget finished loading the milks, and then stood up from her kneeling position and looked around for Sebastian to see what the fuss was about.
She saw Sebastian making his way out from behind the counter. He walked with purpose toward the customer who was first in line—a man with a worn sun hat on, glasses, and a thick black cape that looked closer to a trash bag than an actual clothing item. Bridget had seen this customer many times; he was the homeless man who often posted up out front of the doors, collecting change until he had enough money for a cup of hot coffee or maybe a breakfast sandwich.
Oh great, Bridget thought. What’s he doing? He needs to stay behind the register.
The homeless man, who referred to himself as Rollins, was often angry and sometimes downright rude. Bridget hoped that Rollins had not said anything provocative to Sebastian. What if Rollins insulted Sebastian, and Sebastian was about to go retaliate?
The cameras were rolling, which made Bridget feel even worse. Whatever Sebastian was about to do, it was going to be caught on film.
Heads turned in the café as Sebastian’s strange behavior grabbed people’s curiosity.
Sebastian widened his arms as he approached Rollins. “Come here, brother,” he said. “I think you need a hug.”
To everyone’s surprise, Sebastian enveloped the homeless man in the warmest, most heartfelt hug that Bridget had ever witnessed. The elderly homeless man had tears in his eyes as he laid his head against Sebastian’s shoulders and patted his back in return. “Thank you, brother,” Rollins said in return. “You don’t know how rough it’s been for me... you don’t know how much I needed that.”
“Yeah, I do,” Sebastian said in return. “And we’re all in this together. A good friend of mine told me once that we’re all connected. I just realized she’s right.”
The two held onto each other, and a hushed silence filled the café. People were swept up in the emotion of the embrace. More than a few eyes in the place glistened with tears. Bridget felt her own eyes tear up, too. Sebastian’s act of kindness truly touched her heart.
All my worry about Dad’s right to his invention have been so prominent in my mind over this last week, that I’ve lost touch of what’s important—this connection, she realized.
She used the back of her hand to wipe away a tear. Sebastian and Rollins parted, and now instead of his usual grumpy grimace, Rollins was smiling. His eyes were shining just a little bit brighter.
Sebastian returned to his position behind the register, and Bridget sidled up to him.
“What was that all about?” Bridget asked.
“I’ve been doing that trick you taught me,” Sebastian said. “The one where you look into another person’s eyes. I was trying to figure out a way to help Rollins. I was about to buy him a coffee with my leftover tip money, but then when I looked into his eyes, I realized that wasn’t what he really needed. What he really needed—the thing that would be most helpful to him, I realized—was love. Maybe that’s all any of us really needs”
Bridget smiled. She was still teary eyed, but despite her blurry vision, she noticed Sara and the cameraman departing. Bridget was happy that the filming was over. “I think you’re right,” she said to Sebastian, while wiping away another tear. “I’ve been so caught up in this blackmail investigation, I really lost sight of that. Maybe that’s even what whoever the blackmailer is actually needs.”
She heard a sob. It came from behind her. She turned and saw Adrienne, also teary eyed, with one hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide. And just like that, Bridget knew.
13
Beauty
Bridget remembered Jeremiah’s words: “the main character is a hero of mine,” and “the protagonist is sort of known for rising up out of the ashes.”