by Pamela Morsi
“Miss Kepper is not listening,” he assured her brightly. “And she is the soul of discretion on personnel matters.”
By the time he got to the other side of his desk, he could see Cher-L was frowning slightly. He hoped that was a good sign. He sat down and opened her file. He already knew what was there, but he flipped through it carefully nonetheless. There were already two serious reprimands that Cher-L has signed off on. Both in the last three months. Three strikes, you’re out. It was the rule in baseball as well as the grocery business.
Pete looked the young woman directly in the eye. He kept his voice soft, but his words were firm.
“Cher-L, things don’t seem to be working out very well for you in our bakery.”
She bit her lip and leaned forward, offering him an excellent view down the front of her blouse. Pete kept his eyes on her face.
“I am so sorry,” she said, her voice as breathy as a Marilyn Monroe impersonator. “Leaving the dough out, well, it was just awful and expensive and, oh you have every right to be so angry at me.”
Her apology was spoken in such an enticingly sexy voice, Pete fully expected her next line to be a description of herself as “a very naughty girl.” Forestalling that, he went straight to the point.
“I believe it is time for both of us to admit that Guthrie Foods is not a good employment fit for you.”
She sat up a little straighter and recrossed her legs. Clearly, she was rethinking her assumptions about him and deciding on another tack.
“The bakery is just not quite my thing,” she said. “All those old biddies, half of them crazed with menopause and the other half taking turns with PMS. It’s like trying to work in the eye of an estrogen hurricane every day of the week!”
Pete understood that talking about female biology was another distraction intended to make him waver in his decision. He steeled himself for more of the same. Mention of maxi pads and monthly courses was the nuclear option for women when manipulating male bosses.
“The organization needs to work like a team, Cher-L,” he said. “I believe you’ve tried to be a team player. I give you credit for that. But I think, by nature, you are a more…more creative sort and you’ll be happier and more successful in a different type of work environment.”
With a quick indrawn breath and an exaggerated jaw drop, Cher-L was smiling again. “I was thinking exactly that same thing,” she told him. “The bakery just isn’t the place for me. Bread is boring, boring, boring. I’m thinking that my natural gift for color and display and stuff, just makes me perfect for produce. The produce department would be great for me.”
Pete wasn’t about to transfer Cher-L to produce. He was not unaware of gossip that suggested she and the produce manager had engaged in trysts in the back parking lot. The produce manager was a married man with two little kids. Even if none of it was true, he had no doubt that Cher-L would use the rumors to her advantage.
“No, Cher-L,” he stated firmly. “A transfer to another department is not going to be possible. We are terminating your employment with us.”
She was incredulous at the idea. She needed the job. She had rent to pay and credit card bills. There were so few jobs in town. If she lost this one, where would she ever find another?
Pete kept his resolve as unmovable as stone. And continued to repeat the final verdict. She was no longer employed at Guthrie Foods.
When argument failed, she began to cry.
Pete hated tears worse than anything. There was no way to fight back, nothing to do but live through them. In his head he knew that he was in the right, but the crying made him feel like such a heel. He sat there listening to her sobs as long as he could stand it. Finally he went for his own secret weapon. He stepped out the door and walked down the hall.
He didn’t need to even speak to Miss Kepper. She obviously had been listening and she was waiting. Without a word, she went up the hall and into his office.
“Cher-L,” he heard Miss Kepper say. “It’s time to go to the bathroom, wash your face and straighten up. I’ll mail your check by the end of the week.”
Pete moved over to the edge of the room, not hiding, but not visible to anyone just passing in the corridor.
A few minutes later he saw the back of Cher-L as she went by. She’d stopped crying but all the confidence had gone out of her walk. She looked now to be the person he’d originally thought her to be, a lonely confused young woman in need of a job.
Andi hadn’t realized how much she’d counted on the coffee stop until the possibility was gone. She wasted half of a sleepless night in denial. They couldn’t do this to her. Guthrie had been in the wrong. In the light of day, the council would see that and alter their position. That was, of course, a complete fantasy on her part. The decision was made and, as far as the city was concerned, it was final. She could take them to court, but she couldn’t afford that, and she’d probably lose anyway. There was nothing to be done. When it came to opening a small business, it was prudent to worry about striking out. But she hadn’t expected to be thrown out of the game before she even made it to the batter’s box.
She went directly from denial to outrage. How dare they deprive her of an opportunity to create a livelihood! How dare they deprive the community of a place to drive through and get coffee!
Andi was still furious over breakfast.
Her father was sympathetic, but not that consoling.
“It was a good idea and you presented it well,” he said between bites of oatmeal. “You gave yourself a fair shot and you should be rightly proud of that. But plenty of great ideas never get implemented. I’m sure they taught you that in business school.”
“Of course they did,” Andi agreed, unsmiling. “But I guess they failed to mention that a venture could be rejected for no reason except a creepy old alderman takes a public affront at having his bias pointed out.”
Pop shook his head and tutted. “I know you’re feeling like it was all unfair,” he said. “But you knew it wasn’t going to be a sure thing. They call it ‘granting a variance’ because it’s asking for an exception. You had to know from the outset that you may not get it.”
She didn’t answer. She had known it, of course. But she hadn’t really considered it. A business, any business seemed better than a empty building. It was unreasonable that the council couldn’t see that.
Andi sat, stewing, as her coffee turned tepid and her oatmeal congealed.
Jelly got up from the table, her breakfast unfinished, and raced to her room. In a minute she was back with one of her stuffed animals. She set it on the table next to Andi.
“What’s this?”
“It’s Happy Bear,” Jelly told her. “He smiles all the time. We have to take smiles wherever we can find them.” Her sister’s earnestness was endearing. “Maybe you should keep him with you today,” Jelly added.
Andi picked up the nearly ragged pink-and-purple bear. He had patches of missing fur, a clumsily mended right leg and one eye was completely gone, but his bright red, velour grin was completely intact.
“For a smiling guy, he looks pretty beat-up,” she pointed out to Jelly.
Her sister shrugged. “Sometimes I have to hold him a lot,” she admitted solemnly. “And the washing machine is hard on everybody.”
Andi eyed her sister’s very serious concern and forced a smile to the corners of her mouth.
“Thanks, Jelly,” she said. “I’ll borrow him from you. Just for today.”
Jelly sighed with relief and smiled cheerily as if that settled everything.
Andi piddled away the morning, doing nothing constructive and allowing her thoughts to go over the council meeting again and again. Trying to make it all come out differently. It didn’t.
As Pop and Jelly left for work, Andi aimlessly surfed the Internet. Finally she got up from the couch and went into the kitchen to fix herself something for lunch.
Happy Bear was still sitting on the table where Jelly had left him. Andi grimaced at the sight
of the big, red smile on the creature’s face. For an instant she envied Jelly. Her world was so much simpler than Andi’s own. And she could find such happiness in small things.
That thought was immediately followed by a more truthful assessment of reality. Life was far from easy for her sister. Much of the world was shut off from her as too risky and unsafe. And there were so many things that she could never understand, but that impacted her every day of her life.
Andi straightened her spine. She was going to stop feeling sorry for herself and get busy getting on with her life. She went up to her room and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She pulled her hair up into a casual ponytail and put on a pair of well-aged, comfortable sneakers. After finding the keys and leaving a note on the refrigerator, she headed out the front door.
The car wash building still needed to be cleaned up and the supplies still needed to be sold. She might as well get busy at that. She had nothing better to do.
The seventeen-block trek actually lifted her mood considerably. When the sun is shining and the breeze is blowing and there is a scent of crab apple blossoms in the air, it’s hard to remain pessimistic. Something would come up, Andi assured herself. Something even better than the Coffee Stop. And it would be something that Guthrie and son couldn’t stop. She just needed to keep herself open to the possibilities.
Arriving at the corner of Grosvenor and Fifth Street she unlocked the door on the little building. It was better than it had been, but there was still plenty to be done.
Andi used a five-gallon jug of rust inhibitor to prop open the door, adding both light and ventilation to the inside. She began sorting and shifting. It was heavy work but, surprisingly, Andi welcomed the exertion. It made her feel like she was accomplishing something. And today, she really needed that feeling.
Andi glanced up as a shadow darkened her doorway.
“Hey, girl! I thought it might be you in here.”
At first, she didn’t recognize the woman. But the sound of her voice brought recognition.
“Oh, hi,” Andi said. “You’re the waitress from Connor’s Diner.”
The woman shrugged. “No, this week my sister is the waitress at Connor’s Diner. I’m just unemployed Tiff McCarin out walking the streets.”
With a smile Andi noted her conservative suit and sensible shoes. “That’s not quite the streetwalker outfit,” she said. “Even in Plainview.”
Tiff laughed. “Yeah, this is my disguise. I’m like a hunter in a duckblind. Camouflaged as I look for jobs.”
“I don’t think you’re going to find one here,” Andi said.
Tiff nodded. “That’s what I understand. Isn’t that just my luck? I finally know somebody who’s opening a business and it gets closed down before I even get a chance to beg for work.”
Andi nodded sympathetically.
“Well, you look nice,” she said. “Did you have interviews today?”
“Just one,” Tiff answered. “And when I showed up, they told me that they’d changed their mind about filling the position. So I guess I got dressed up for nothing.”
“My pop says that ‘nothing is for nothing.’ There’s always something good that comes out of everything.”
Tiff laughed. “He may be right. I passed my ex-husband on Hager Street and he was so stunned to see me looking good, he walked into a light pole. That alone was worth the extra effort with the makeup.”
Andi laughed, only because Tiff was laughing.
“I guess he hasn’t seen you lately.”
“Only from a distance, I guess. We have a six-year-old son,” Tiff said. “He goes with his dad every other weekend. But Gil, that’s my ex, he just parks at the curb and Caleb meets him at the car.”
“I guess that’s one way to keep things civil.”
Tiff agreed. “No talking means no arguing. At this point that’s about all we can do for Caleb.”
Andi nodded.
“What about you?” Tiff asked. “Divorced?”
“Never married,” Andi answered. “Now are you going to tell me how lucky I am?”
“You get that a lot, I bet,” Tiff said.
“I think it’s supposed to make me feel better about my drastic fate.”
“Does it?”
“Truth is, I’m just getting used to it. In Chicago, being twenty-eight and single makes you an up-and-comer, free and on the town. But I get the feeling that back here in Plainview it means you’re an old maid.”
“Yikes, I bet that does smart a bit.”
Andi nodded.
“You just haven’t run into the right guy,” Tiff told her.
“There may not be one,” Andi said. “I’ve got my standards set way too high. My parents had this perfect marriage, I want one just like it.”
“Nobody’s marriage is perfect,” Tiff pointed out.
“Yeah, I keep telling myself that, but I think theirs must have been,” Andi said. “They always got along, they were both very easygoing. Even with raising my sister, which had to be stressful, they never seemed to lose their balance.”
“That does sound good.”
“I asked Pop about it once and he told me that marriage is like any other contract—if both people aren’t willing to abide by it, then it’s not a deal at all.”
Tiff nodded. “I sure hear that,” she said. “Wish my ex had cooperated. I’m not sure which is worse, being an old maid or having a failed marriage.”
“Oh, I think old maid has got to be worse,” Andi assured her. “At least you caught a husband, even if he managed to wiggle off the hook.”
Tiff chuckled. “You may be right about that,” she said. “I guess it goes to show that a lot of the free advice you get around this town is worth exactly how much you pay for it.”
Andi nodded agreement and Tiff changed the subject.
“So what’s the problem with your business here?” she asked. “What’s so dangerous that the city council wouldn’t let you sell coffee?”
Declining to go into personalities, Andi made it simple. “We don’t have the facilities to comply with the rules for a food or beverage business,” she said. “So we can’t open anything that serves food and drink.”
Tiff nodded. “So what can you open?”
Andi shrugged. “Nothing, I guess,” she replied. “We have to get approved to do anything different. And truthfully, I don’t think I have any friends on the council. I think they would just as soon I stay at home and let the people in the business community come up with the new business ideas.”
“I thought new blood was always supposed to be good.”
Andi shrugged. “New blood maybe, but maybe not any new ideas from the Wolkowiczs. We never did fit in to the country-club set.”
“So what’s next?”
“I’m cleaning this place out and sorting this stuff,” Andi said. “I’m hoping I can sell it all on eBay.”
“You want some help?”
“You’re all dressed up,” Andi pointed out. “And besides, I can hardly afford bus fare, so I sure can’t pay for help.”
“I’ve got my car parked down at Conner’s with all my clean laundry in the back,” she said. “I’ll go change into shorts and a T. I’ve got nothing to do until Caleb gets out of day camp. It would be nice to feel like I’m working even if I don’t get paid.”
A few minutes later Tiff was back, wearing Daisy Dukes and eager to help. Andi hadn’t realized how much she needed an extra pair of hands until she had them. The two women managed to move everything to one side of the room so they could clean the floor. With mops from the storage closet and plenty of soapy wash water, they proceeded to do just that. The two worked well together and the accomplishment seemed to lift the mood of both of them. But they were ready for a break when someone else showed up at their door.
“What’s going on?” a young woman asked as she peered in at Andi.
“Just cleaning up,” Andi answered.
The young woman, whose hair was strangely blue-striped, squi
nted into the darkness of the building.
“Tiffany Crandall? Is that you?”
Tiff straightened, assessing the newcomer. “I used to be,” she answered. “I’m Tiff McCarin now. Who are you?”
“I’m Lisa Craven’s little sister, remember me?”
Tiff eyed her more closely. “Cheryl? I wouldn’t have recognized you. The blue-haired stripes are really…eye-catching.”
“Thanks! My name now is Cher-L. I changed it, too.”
“Cher-L?” Tiff repeated it as if it were a question.
The girl nodded. “Cool, huh.” She spelled it for them, including the dash. “My mom named me Cheryl which is just like an ordinary loser name. So I gave it meaning. I’m Cher-L, because that’s who I am. I share L.”
“You share L?”
“Yeah, L,” she answered. “L is like all the good things, love and life and laughter. It’s a name that really means something. It’s like a stage name.”
“A stage name?” Andi repeated. “Are you an actress or a singer?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that really,” she answered. “I’m just getting myself prepared…you know…to be famous or something. You never know, right?”
Andi and Tiff shot glances at each other.
Tiff murmured a tepid agreement, Andi focused her attention on the mop.
Cher-L didn’t seem to note the lack of enthusiasm. She walked into the middle of the floor and turned slowly in a circle as if taking the whole room in.
“I like this place,” she said. “It’s got good qi, you know, in kind of a funky way.”
“Uh…it belongs to my pop,” Andi said. “I’ll let him know you approve.”
Cher-L promptly seated herself atop a plastic barrel of wax concentrate, crossing her legs and allowing one high-heeled slide to dangle perilously from her foot.
“I’ve walked by this place a million times in my life,” Cher-L said. “This is the first time I’ve seen it open.”
“Andi and I are just cleaning it up,” Tiff told her. “She’s going to try to sell these old supplies on eBay.”
Cher-L glanced around and nodded. “I guess if people will buy a piece of toast that looks like the Virgin Mary, they ought to buy boxes of old car fresheners.”
