Page 7 of Blame It On the Lattes

Four

Avery

By the time the movieended, Kennedy was yawning and getting a little too comfortable on the couch bed Cassidy’s parents had made for her. Thankfully their living room was large, so there were two other couches the rest of us could sit on without having to be huddled together on hers.

“You ready to go, sugar pie?” I asked, making eye contact with her before her eyes could flutter closed again.

“Do we have to?”

“Yes, baby. We need to get going so Amelia and Ron can get some rest, too.”

“I don’t want to go,” she whined, digging herself deeper into the couch.

I took a slow, deep breath, trying not to let myself get worked up. Kennedy was a sweet girl, but she was also a typical five-year-old, which meant her moods could give anyone whiplash, especially when she was tired.

“Crap,” Sam said from the other couch, staring down at his phone as he rubbed his hand down the scruff on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Cassidy asked.

“My new barista just quit on me. His family is going out of town for the holidays, so now I’m shorthanded and don’t have time to look for someone else.”

“Shit. That sucks,” Cassidy replied before shooting me a grimaced look. “Sorry.”

“She’s heard worse,” I replied with a laugh. “And she’s already asleep.”

Great. Just Great.

“What hours do you need someone?” Amelia asked. “I can see if anyone from the community center might be able to help out.”

Sam shook his head as his fingers flew across his phone.

“Thanks, Mom. I don’t want to be ungrateful, but I need someone who can handle a fast-paced environment and juggle multiple things at one time. Someone who isn’t bothered by loud noise or chaos. I don’t want to have to shout the orders over and over while waiting for hearing aids to properly adjust.”

“Someone like Avery,” Cassidy suggested, nudging me with her elbow.

I glared at her for a split second before looking over to find Sam’s eyes on me.

“I don’t know anything about coffee,” I admitted sheepishly as I tried to blend in with the couch.

“You don’t have to,” Cassidy said, continuing to interject herself. “Sam can teach you the basics. You’re a quick learner. Plus, you’re an elementary school teacher—you’re used to the chaos and loud noise. Not only that, you’re fully capable of juggling lots of things at one time. Perks of being a momanda schoolteacher.”

“Are you interested?” Sam asked, his eyes wide and full of hope.

I shifted again, not sure if I had ever been more uncomfortable in my life.

“I would hate to let you down,” I replied with a nervous laugh.

“Why do you think you would?” he questioned, setting his phone down and giving me his full attention.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged and made a weird face I would later regret. “What if I can’t learn how to make the drinks?”

“Then I’ll make them, and you can work the register.”

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