Page 20 of Lovebug
“Mrs. Kim. Pleasure to meet you. Apologies for the spitting. And the pawing.”
“Mrs. Kim runs the laundromat in Doylestown next to the Wawa,” Doreen explains.
“Oh, wonderful, great! Let me guess, your company name is… Stain!” I say and then laugh my head off.
The sweet older lady looks confused. “No. It is called Mrs. Kim’s.”
“Oh. Yes,” I say, sobering. “Absolutely. That’s a much better name for a laundromat than Stain. You’re right.” I turn to the woman sitting next to me, the pretty one who looked at me funny when I said I’m Bert’s fiancée. “Hi. I’m Mabel again. Well, Mabel. Not Mabel Again. I’m trying to stop doing that. My actual last name is McGonigle. Mabel McGonigle. And you are?”
I extend my hand to her.
She doesn’t take it.
She pushes her chair back, rises to stand, and says, “He sure does loveLaw & Order, huh?”
Then she leaves the coffee shop without another word.
My head whips to Bert and Doreen.
“What was that all about?” I ask.
“Bert, go,” Doreen says, a distressed look on her face.
“I’ll be right back, everyone,” Bert blurts, then hustles out the door after the odd woman whose name I never got.
Huh.
I crane my neck and watch him practically sprint down the street after this lady.
“Moving right along!” Doreen says, commanding my attention again, her bright smile and vibrant voice back in place. “So Dawn? Mrs. Kim? I know I speak for everyone when I say that we are thrilled to have powerful business owners like yourselves bringing your knowledge, expertise, and community to our team.”
“Oh, is it official? Are Dawn and Mrs. Kim officially part of the team?” I ask. In truth, I’m never quite sure what’s going on in this business. I mostly take orders from Doreen and Bert and do my best to keep up.
“Well, I’m sure theywillbe,” Doreen says after a quick sharp intake of breath, the kind that lets me know she’s not altogether pleased with my question. Right. I forgot. Always assume they’re in. They’d be crazy to pass up “the opportunity.”
Just then, a young man comes into the shop and taps Doreen on the shoulder. I’ve seen what’s about to happen at least a dozen times.
“Trevor, hello, dear.”
“Your mail, Doreen,” he responds, presenting several envelopes bundled together with a rubber band.
“Thank you so much, Trevor,” Doreen says. Her words are full of gratitude and dismissal. He nods and leaves.
Trevor is Doreen’s personal assistant. He always brings Doreen’s mail to her when she’s meeting with prospective team members. By mail, I mean her weekly paycheck. He did the same thing the first time I sat down to talk about “the opportunity” a few years ago.
“Oh, if you’ll excuse me, ladies. I just need to do a little busywork for a moment,” Doreen says on a breathy chuckle. “Get all my financial ducks in a row, you know.”
She proceeds to open one of the envelopes with an old-fashioned golden letter opener she fishes out of her purse.
“Ah, there we are.” She exhales and smiles, then smooths out a piece of paper on the table directly in Dawn’s and Mrs. Lee’s line of vision. They both lean forward to take a closer look. I see the moment both sets of eyes widen.
Doreen sips her tea, and continues, “It’s such a relief to know that my financial future is secure. That I can sit here with new friends late on a Monday afternoon, sipping tea and talking about possibilities without rushing back to a J-O-B.”
She spells out “job” like it’s a dirty, unmentionable word.
Dawn starts to look uncomfortable and rises to her feet. “Speaking of J-O-Bs, I do have to get back to mine, so—”
“This is your monthly paycheck?” Mrs. Lee asks with interest.
