Page 45 of Smoke and Fire
“Maybe,” I mused, thinking of my work with Bastian. I likely wouldn’t settle in as his assistant forever, but I enjoyed the doors this unexpected opportunity opened. “We’ll see how things tease out. Nothing concrete yet, anyway, so I’m still here.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Wonderful.”
“I just wish I hadn’t gotten such a useless degree in college. General studies?” I grimaced. “I should have just dropped out and finished later, when I knew what I wanted. Why don’t they push college for later adult years, after you’ve done all the stupid things and made the stupid mistakes and actually have a brain?”
She sighed. “I agree. I left early, too. Still haven’t finished my degree, just shifted right into real estate. Ellie left early, and I was proud of her. Regardless, I’m sure the right path will find you.”
Maybe it already did,whispered Inner Me.
“Indeed,” I said in answer to both.
I gestured to the sprawled paperwork to shift the topic.
“I would love to help with coordinating the Frolicking Moose, but I’m not sure what you’re picturing for the job. Lizbeth mentioned hiring a manager, or something. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I’m happy to do what I can.”
Bethany seemed relieved to refocus on the paperwork.
“Yes, we’re looking for a manager, I think. Someone to take over supplies, renting the loft, running the HomeBnb listing, placing food and inventory orders, barista management, and also the schedules and catering of the back room. I really want to strengthen the partnership between us and JJ’s bakery, but I haven’t had time to figure out how to push catering to interested people. The back room would be great for a wedding reception or party.” She waved a vague hand toward the back room. “But how?”
Not a single idea populated my mind. It was a complicated question that, as a pregnant woman, she shouldn’t have to deal with. A manager position would be a deeper integration into the Frolicking Moose than I wanted to have, and Bethany would need someone she deeply trusted. Someone with guaranteed longevity.
“Lizbeth mentioned a woman named Leslie.” I leaned back against the wall. “Is that an option?”
Bethany sighed. “Yes. I’ve been pushing back on the idea because I just haven’t been sure Leslie would want it. She’s just finalized a divorce.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. Divorce is never an easy process, even with amiability and a great attorney like Kinoshi. Anyway, I think she could use the work and I need her commitment to a task. If there’s one thing Leslie has, it’s boundaries and pragmatism. I’ll keep you updated.”
Wearily, she gathered up the paperwork while I put the ginger tea in a to-go container. With a smile, and a quick hug, she stepped back into the hot sunshine.
I stepped up to the large window as I brushed a piece of lint off the table, then looked over the hill north of here. The plume continued to chug away back there, tucked up against the mountains like it belonged. I scowled.
Was there another update from fire camp?
The fire had turned into an obsession. Would I be this absorbed if I didn’t know someone working up there? I wasn’t sure. I’d never looked at the horizon so much in my life, nor cared about analyzing weather reports. The ever-present smoke column gobbled up a lot of my thoughts. Those thoughts slid to a certain wildland firefighter a littletoomuch.
Vague news reports mentioned winds potentially pushing the fire east tonight before a gathering storm, which meant right toward Adventura.
Nothing had stirred up so far today. Only heat on a crackling dry afternoon without a lick of moisture. My lips were chapped and miserable, even though I constantly balmed them.
I slipped back behind the counter when a few cars headed for the drive-through. While I sank into the mindless task of pouring espresso and warming croissants, the door rang. A bright young woman with dreadlocks and a belly shirt walked inside with a smile. I called a greeting.
“Be with you in a sec!”
She waved and stood below the board, studying it with her head craned back. A full pack rested at her side, slung along her hips. It had been pieced together from different pieces of cut denim and old zippers. The bohemian look caught my eye. Something about her registered as vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put a finger on it.
Once the final car sped away, I stepped to the cash register with my usual smile.
“What can I get you?”
The woman’s fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag.
“Something cold,” she said. “The strawberry frap looks good. And add a cake pop, maybe? A little sweet something to celebrate.”
Her grin widened, revealing startlingly straight and white teeth. I turned to the cash register, which beeped as I entered the order.
