Page 16 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind

-Sample a muffin and a scone. For Important Mental Health Reasons.

-Make sure Man Bun shaved/isn’t disturbing the peace

-And then stop thinking about how he was acting last night

-Get a drink of water

Is it the most professional list in the world? No.

But will it keep me fed and hydrated? Yes.

Nodding, I look over my list with satisfaction. I can do most of these with no problems. So I take a deep breath, savor my last few seconds of peace and quiet, and stand up. Then I tuck my list into my pocket and head back out to the shop.

We’ve only just opened, so I have the rows to myself as I walk through the bookshelves, inhaling with a smile. There’s nothing better than that smell—the smell of books and paper and little worlds tucked away between the pages. It smells even better in the secondhand aisle, where all the books have been donated and loved before.

I’m just in time to see Soren when I emerge from the mystery section, settling himself in his favorite leather armchair with a smug look of satisfaction on his face. And glaring at him by the door, clearly fresh from outside, is none other than Carmina Hildegarde.

She’s dressed immaculately, as per usual. I don’t understand how someone that old can still look so elegant. But she does; she always does. I think part of it is her facial expression—a haughty look that proclaims her to be better than everyone else around her. I heard she used to be a model back in the day, and I believe it. Her white hair is fluffy but smoothed into a fancy twist at the back of her head, and her sneering lips are a vibrant red. Her blouse and skirt, though simple, look expensive.

Soren, I can’t help but notice, does not look elegant. His hair is in its typical bun, and he did not shave. I roll my eyes.

Carmina places her bony, wrinkled hands on her hips, her large purse dangling from one arm. Then she stomps over to Soren, so violently that for a second I worry she’s going to snap her high heels. She doesn’t, though; she reaches him fine and then stands there, glaring down at him, while he pretends not to notice her.

Because of course he does.

I sigh. “Carmina,” I say, approaching the two of them before they come to blows. “Do you want to sit over here?” I say, gesturing to an empty table. “It gets great sunlight; you’ll be nice and warm.”

“No,” Carmina snaps. She doesn’t even look at me; she keeps her beady little eyes on Soren. “I want to sit here.” She punctuates that last word with a stomp of her foot.

“Well, this seat’s taken, unfortunately”—I glare at Soren too, because he’s being a child about this—“so come sit over here. Come on,” I say, taking her gently by the elbow and leading her away from the hulking blond man bun occupying her favorite chair. I settle her gently at the table in the sun and then say, “Let me get you your muffin, and then I’ll grab you a drink, okay?”

Carmina sniffs haughtily and sets her handbag on the table next to her. “Lemonade, please. And is there blueberry today?”

I nod. “Of course.” We always make blueberry muffins and orange zest muffins.

She sniffs again. “That will do, I suppose.”

I do my best not to roll my eyes at this. It’s the same thing she gets every time; there’s no need to be so uppity. But I force a smile and then hurry behind the counter, using the tongs to grab a blueberry muffin from out of the display case. I put it on one of our little white plates, and then I return to the impatient old woman.

“Here you go,” I say, setting the plate in front of her with a littleclink.“Give me a minute to get your drink, all right?”

She doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t thank me. She just begins unwrapping her muffing with spindly fingers.

Fine. It’s fine. She’s a paying customer; her money can be her thanks.

Because I am professional rather than petty, I don’t make Carmina wait for her drink—even though it’s more tempting than I’d ever admit out loud. I just fill a medium cup with lemonade and a bit of ice before going back to her table once more. I set the drink and a wrapped straw in front of her.

“Let someone know if you need anything else,” I say.Then I leave her alone.

I smile with satisfaction as several more customers enter the shop. It’s a popular breakfast spot, since we offer fresh muffins and scones as well as lemonade, hot chocolate, coffee, and several different kinds of herbal teas. My smile twists into a scowl, though, when I notice people purposefully avoiding the seat right next to Soren’s.

“Man Bun,” I say, approaching him, because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen it happen.

He holds up one finger without looking up from his laptop. “No,” he says.

“You’re scaring away customers,” I say.

His snort is little more than a puff of breath. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not.”

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