“Well, Mindy’s basement flooded last night. Pipes burst.
She’s stuck there — says she can’t come. You know we’re slammed on weekends.”
I pressed the phone tighter.
“Listen. You show up, or you don’t bother showing up ever again. I’m not closing the café because of you.”
The line went dead.
I wanted to cry right there in my hallway. I grabbed my bag, ran outside, and leaned into John’s open window. He looked so handsome, so rested.
“Work called. They’re desperate. They need me for a few hours — Mindy’s house flooded.
I swear I’ll be quick!”
“A few hours? We have to get on the road. They’re expecting us.”
“I know, I know.
Of course, nothing was fast.
By the time I tied my apron, the place was already full of grumpy regulars barking for refills.
Mindy never showed up. My manager kept barking orders. When I begged him to let me go, he just waved a dish rag at me.
“Unless you’re planning to shut this place down yourself, you’re staying.
And stop looking at your phone. Give it to me!”
So I stayed. And I served.
By the time I got my phone back, it was nearly five. I switched it on, and John’s message popped up instantly.
You’ll have to get here on your own. Don’t make this worse.”
The last bus to the suburbs was about to leave.
I grabbed my bag, didn’t even change out of my uniform. My nice dress stayed stuffed in the tote, untouched.
I ran. I ran so hard my feet slipped on the sidewalk. I made it to the bus station just as the doors were closing.
The driver sighed but let me in.
I dropped into a seat, panting. Halfway there, I felt for the small wrapped box in my bag. It wasn’t there.Continue reading…
