Page 46 of Common Grounds

I arch an eyebrow and tap my pen against the table. “Would you put money on that, too?” I ask sarcastically.

Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “I would.”

Chapter eighteen

Trevor

“Uh, Boss?” James pokes his head through the door to the back office on Monday morning. I’m currently sitting in front of my ancient laptop and between piles of invoices and receipts. My hand is lodged in my hair, gripping it tight as I’m obsessing over a spreadsheet with numbers from the weekend’s sales. Better. Not enough, but much better.

When I don’t look up, James clears his throat. “There’s a pregnant woman here to see you?”

“A what?” I ask, then shake my head to clear it. “James, you shouldn’t assume a woman is pregnant.”

“She told me she’s pregnant,” he insists.

“Why would she do that?” I’m not exactly sure why I’m even having this conversation instead of just going out to see what this person wants, but I’m too invested now.

“She said, ‘I’m pregnant, and I need a muffin and to talk to Trevor. In that order.’” He looks up and to the left as he punctuates each syllable with a movement of his head as if he’s trying to remember exactly what she said to him while he quotes her.

I sigh deeply and release the death grip on my hair. “Did you get her a muffin?” I ask.

“Of course I did,” he says, offended.

“Okay.” I don’t bother reminding him that’s not necessarily a given. Instead, I push my way past him and out into the store. Emery’s sister is standing smack in the middle of the empty shop, her hands on her hips, and her baby bump protruding almost past her feet. Her eyes dart over every surface of the place, scrutinizing.

“Ah, there you are,” she says when she sees me. “Are you ready to get to work?”

I frown and look around the empty shop. “There’s no one here,” I say.

Her eyebrows squish together, then she shakes her head. “Oh. No. Not that kind of work. I mean you have a grand re-opening event in a few weeks, and we need to get you ready.”

I stare at her as if I wasn’t standing in that exact same spot just a few days ago, looking at this place in almost the same way she is. “Do you have any experience in this?”

“No,” she says slowly. “But I’ve watched a lot of restaurant makeover shows.”

I tick up an eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

She narrows her eyes at me as if I’m clueless. “Of course I’m not serious. I mean, yeah, I’ve watched a lot of those shows, but I’m an investment manager. My job is dealing with money. You want to make money, right?”

“That would be nice,” I say.

“Good. So, let’s get to work.” She plops herself down into a chair near the door where a muffin has been placed for her. “I’m going to need your profit and loss statements for the past year, and a cost breakdown of all your current menu items.” I turn to leave, but she calls after me. “Oh, and I asked your employee for a half-caff iced mocha, too, but he’s nowhere to be found. What’s up with that?”

I face her slowly. “I’ll get that for you right away.”

“Why can’t he do it?” Cass is incredibly imposing in a sweet and unsuspecting way, and I feel like she’s drilling holes into my brain by the way she’s regarding me. It feels a lot like being scrutinized by her sister, and the reminder of Emery has me feeling lightheaded for a moment.

“Uh…” I start, trying to regain my bearings. Probably no use lying to her. “It’s complicated. He’s good at a lot of things, but making specialty drinks isn’t really one of them.”

“What types of things is he good at?” She tears a piece off her muffin and pops it into her mouth. When I just stare at her, she nods. “Right. We will remedy that, too.”

“I won’t fire him,” I say, suddenly defensive. “I believe he can be taught. I just haven’t had a reason to teach him.”

“Well, you have a reason now.” She circles her hand in the air, as if to hurry me up. “Coffee, please. And statements.”

Shit. She’s so much like her sister, and I suddenly wish Emery was here. “Yes, ma’am.” I salute good-naturedly, and she laughs as she takes another bite of her muffin.

I get started on her drink first, assuming that she is going to need some sustenance before looking at my bloody loss statements. She said “profit and loss,” but, let’s face it: there hasn’t been a profit to speak of in a long time.

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