Page 52 of For My Finale
Blossom’s stomach sank. It was just as she’d feared. “How much are we talking?”
He gave her a rough estimate, and she had to concentrate so as not to choke. It would cost almost everything she was getting from the bank loan. She’d been so careful with money, stretching out what she could, but a new coffee machine hadn’t been in the budget.
“Great,” she muttered under her breath.
“Sorry, love,” the mechanic said, standing up and wiping his hands on a rag. “I know it’s a tough hit. Want me to leave you a quote, just in case?”
Blossom nodded, barely able to muster any words.
After he left, she stood behind the counter, staring at the now useless machine. This was the worst possible timing. Coffee-To-Go was gearing up to open, and here she was with no coffee machine. The best she could do was sell drip coffee until she figured out a way to get a new machine.
She could look for a second-hand one online, she supposed.
But in the meantime, there was no way she could compete.
She sighed and leaned against the counter. Could this day get any worse?
The door jingled again, and for a fleeting moment, she hoped it might be Lilah. Maybe the actress would stroll in with her confident smirk, cracking jokes, making everything better.
But it wasn’t Lilah. It was the coffee delivery man. And he was holding a bill.
Blossom forced herself not to say anything about her continuing bad luck. It looked like she was just jinxing herself.
BLOSSOM KNOCKED ON Lilah’s door and pushed it open whenshe saw smoke creeping out from under it. The smell of burned tomatoes hit her first. But she didn’t get the full impact of the disaster until she was standing in the kitchen doorway.
Tomato passata dripped down the front of the stove. A pot lay overturned on the floor, its contents long since spilled and congealing into an unfortunate mess. Strands of pasta hung unbelievably from the ceiling like pale, sticky streamers. And the sink was piled high with bowls, knives, cutting boards, and what looked a little like a pair of garden secateurs. Everything was smeared in various shades of red.
At the center of it all stood Lilah, holding a wooden spoon like a weapon, her hair falling out of its bun, her face wearing a somewhat harrowed expression.
“Okay,” Lilah said, sweeping an arm at the disaster around her. “In my defense, I had to work a shift at the pub this afternoon, and I was trying to make something nice.”
Blossom pressed her lips together. It was kind of funny, but she wasn’t sure Lilah would think so. “You murdered dinner.”
Lilah sighed dramatically. “I did. But in fairness, dinner deserved it. It was… uncooperative.”
Blossom surveyed the wreckage and then stepped forward, rolling up her sleeves. “Come on, let’s fix it.”
Together, they worked side by side, scrubbing and tidying as they went, until Lilah’s tiny kitchen was somewhat normal again and Blossom had filled Lilah in on her afternoon. Then they restarted dinner, this time with Blossom supervising.
Lilah chopped vegetables while Blossom handled the sauce and the pasta water.
“I have to admit that things go slightly better when we’re doing this together,” Lilah said.
“Slightly?” asked Blossom.
“Fine. Much. You could probably have done it alone, though.”
“I could,” shrugged Blossom. “But it’s easier with another pair of hands.”
“So what now?” asked Lilah, as the delicious smell of simmering tomato sauce and garlic filled the air. “You’re justgoing to throw the towel in with the cafe?”
“I’ve got no coffee machine,” said Blossom. “And with Coffee-To-Go opening so soon, it’s tough to justify buying a new one.”
“So you give up?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Take this as motivation to do better, get bigger,” said Lilah.
