With that, he turned and made his way to the staircase that would lead him off of the boat.
Sebastian vaguely listened as his father bid goodbye to Kelcy and shared well wishes about her daughter’s surgery. Mostly, Sebastian stewed in a storm of concern that was brewing up from deep within him.
The thought of working as a lowly barista made him shudder with disgust.
He lifted a hand, and thought about his hair. A make-under? What did that mean? It probably meant he was going to look awful. And what kind of clothes had Giovanni supplied the apartment with? There was no way his father knew the cuts and styles he preferred. Thinking of the apartment made him cringe, too. Was it going to be big enough? Would there be a jacuzzi bath, or a king-size bed? Somehow, he doubted it.
It’s just one week, he thought. I’ll just make sure to help one stupid customer, and then I’ll take over the company from Dad and I won’t have to think about all of this again, for the rest of my life.
Simple.
Easy.
In one week, I’ll probably help hundreds of customers. Dad went easy on me.
Hey, if I’m not getting picked up until three, I still have time to get over to the east side of the bay for a quick surf session...
2
Beauty
“Morning, Sean,” Bridget Belvue said as she entered the back room of the café area.
Sean was standing at the sink, rinsing out a whipped cream container. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Good morning, Bridget! Hey, glad you’re here. Shelby Jackson called this morning before we were even open to the public. She asked that you call her back.”
“Great, thanks, Sean,” Bridget said. “Been busy this morning?”
“Nothing too crazy,” Sean said. “The regulars, plus some high school kids. I think they have the day off for some reason.”
“Oh boy. So lots of milkshakes, I’m guessing,” Bridget said with a roll of her eyes.
Sean laughed. “Oh yeah. I think we’re running low on cookie crumbles. How do they eat that stuff this early in the morning?”
Sean loaded the rinsed container into the washing machine nearby, and then picked up a second.
Bridget left him to his work. As she headed to her little office, she thought over what her regional supervisor, Shelby, might be calling about. It was still a few days too early for the change-of-seasons decorating instructions that usually came through before St. Patrick’s Day. Sales had been steady but not outstanding this quarter, so she didn’t expect any extra attention with regards to her numbers.
Bridget had been the manager of the café portion of the Glitter Cup Café and Bookstore in Dayton for three years. Over the course of those years, she’d picked up on the habits that her superiors had about communication. Unexpected calls like this were highly out of the ordinary.
She sat down at her desk and picked up the handwritten note that Sean had left on a post it by the phone. ‘Shelby Jackson—Call her ASAP!’
Bridget picked up the phone and dialed. “Hi Shelby, this is Bridget Belvue, over at the Dayton café...?”
“Oh, good! Glad you called, Bridget, though it’s a bit later than I hoped. This is going to come as very short notice to you. I wanted to give you some more warning, but such is life, I suppose! How are you? Things good over there in Dayton?”
“Um... yes, everything’s going well,” Bridget said. She glanced at her watch. “I usually get in at nine, since I stay until closing. It’s still a quarter to. What’s this about being late?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that you’re late. I know you’re one of the best café managers we have. No, no, nothing like that. It’s just I feel a bit guilty about springing this on you. I was hoping you might pop into your store earlier than usual, so you’d have some more advanced notice.”
Bridget waited for more. She was curious to know what her regional supervisor was talking about, and she knew that the best way to find out would be to stay silent and let her talk.
Shelby continued. “I had a strange call from Florence this morning,” she said.
This piqued Bridget’s curiosity even more. The original Glitter Cup had started out in Florence as a book shop that also sold coffees. The owner, a man by the name of Giovanni Costa, recognized that the success of his popular Florence café could be replicated throughout Italy, as well as in other cities in Europe. He’d experimented in Rome, Paris, London, and Dublin, and, as Bridget had heard many times, didn’t stop there. He’d gone on to open over 300 Glitter Cup Cafés worldwide.
While it was strange to hear from her regional supervisor, it was even more unexpected to hear that the corporate headquarters in Florence was involved. She felt a bit nervous as she waited for more.
Shelby went on. “They have a strange order for your Dayton café, and asked me to pass it along. Apparently, they’ve hired a new barista for you. His name’s Sebastian. He’s going to report to you today, at ten a.m.”
Bridget felt relieved and confused at the same time. “But we’re staffed up,” she said. “The café portion of our store has seven full-time employees, myself included. To be honest. I don’t really see the need to add another. Our sales haven’t picked up or anything lately, so I don’t see why they’re sending an extra pair of hands.” She frowned. “And what about the usual hiring process? I usually interview potential employees myself, to see if they’ll be a good fit for our little team.”
“I know, I know,” Shelby said. “It’s all very strange. Quite out of the norm. They said not to worry about the new hire paperwork. I guess it’s all been taken care of. These orders are coming down from the top, so we’ve got to roll with it. Again, sorry to spring it on you like this. I know how much goes into training new folks.”
“We’ll make it work,” Bridget said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. The truth was, she didn't like the thought of adding another barista to her team. For one thing, the space behind the counter was limited. The bookstore portion of Glitter Cup took up most of the square footage of their downtown shop, leaving just a small corner for the café. Three baristas on each shift was ideal; any more and it would be too crowded. Each barista had a clear duty to perform: one at the cash register, one at the espresso machine, and one handling the food. What would a fourth do?
The other thing that made her uneasy was the fact that this barista was coming in without her approval. Bridget usually used her keen sense of perception to figure out which applicants would fit in well with her existing team. What if the new barista wasn’t a good fit?
While thinking all this over, she started to complete her beginning-of-shift duties. She checked her email, put together the dairy order for the following week, and printed up a few fresh signs for the baked goods counter.
A little before ten, she exited her office. The back room, which housed the dishwashing station, fridge, freezer chest, a shelf for the stereo and a few rows of dry goods, and a small area for the staff to put coats, aprons, and purses, was empty. She moved out into the area behind the café counter. There was a small line formed in front of the register. Christine, in her late twenties, was at the register. Her long blonde ponytail squished against her back as she wrote down an order on a cup. Her voice, distinctive because of the quirky blend of accents that she had (Bridget had never been able to place it exactly, but thought it might be a mix of Midwestern and Bostonian), rang out above the hum of noise in the café and the bookstore beyond.