Pumpkin Spice

by C. L. Ryder

  “Maybe she could give you some thoughts? If she is that successful.”

  Bethany frowned. “You kidding me? I don’t want the first thing we talk about to be how my business is failing. Especially asking for advice! That’d be horrible.”

  “Oh,” Jackson said, with a knowing look. “So you are interested in her.”

  “As a friend,” Bethany said quickly.

  Jackson smiled back, and she could see he was analyzing her. She hated when he did that. “Cut it out,” she laughed.

  “Tell me the truth, is she hot? Just give me your opinion. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  “She’s… pretty attractive,” Bethany said finally. “But I told you. I’m not looking for anything. I don’t have time…”

  Jackson grinned and nodded at her. The phone by the cash register rang, and he quickly scooped it up.

  “Hello, LeFlorette’s Coffee. Oh, hi, Marcos.” His smile disappeared. “Yeah, she’s right here.” He held the phone out to Bethany. “Marcos. He’s having some trouble at the supplier.”

  Marcos had gone out on an errand to pick up a bulk order of chicken from their supplier, whom Bethany had negotiated a new, lower “longtime customer” price with. It’d taken her a great deal of finessing to get the deal to go through—but if they hadn’t agreed to it then they would’ve been in hot water. Their spicy chicken melt sandwiches were one of the main things keeping them afloat, but they couldn’t afford to buy the same quantities of chicken they used to, and not at the same prices.

  “Damnit,” Bethany muttered, and took the phone. “Hey, Marcos. What’s the problem? You’re kidding me. We agreed… No. Yes. Yeah. Just… just wait there, okay? I’ll be over there. Yeah. Just call my cell phone next time. Okay, bye.”

  She handed the phone back to Jackson, who placed it back into the cradle. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Somebody over there fucked up the order, and they’re claiming that the deal I made never happened. I’m sure I can clear it up, I just need to go over there and talk to them.”

  “Jesus. Okay,” Jackson said. “I can handle things here.”

  “Thanks, Jackson,” she said, grabbing her purse from beneath the counter. “I’ll be back.”

  Normally, her mind would’ve been buzzing with all the possibilities of what could go wrong and what course of action she should take to correct it. This was a big problem. If the supplier refused to acknowledge the deal they’d made, she might not be able to afford to buy the chicken—and if her customers came in and found out they weren’t serving the chicken melt sandwiches… well, she couldn’t afford to lose any more customers. But her thoughts were occupied by something else.

  She wasn’t lying when she’d told Jackson that Jane was just a friend. Sure, Jane was attractive. She was intriguing. But this definitely wasn’t the time to get involved in anything.

  Was it?

  Besides, she didn’t even know if Jane was lesbian or not. She probably wasn’t.

  Normally, she would’ve had no problem putting her out of her mind. She would’ve occupied her thoughts with the urgent things, the things that mattered. She had a lot to think about right now, the least of them being some girl… But the memories of the night before continued to replay over and over in her mind. They only stopped when Bethany drove the car up the block and passed by The Standard. She found herself unable to stop from glancing out the passenger-side window at the bustling coffee shop, and unable to fight the hot anger that flared up inside.

  Seven

  Jane sat at her desk as construction workers and IT people routed cable and moved desks into the space above the café that was to become the Southern California main headquarters. The first hires would be coming in at the beginning of the following week, so Jane was enjoying the feeling of working in a small, intimate environment again while it lasted. It was just her and Lyle here now—none of the bigwig type outsiders she’d inevitably had to bring into the company to help run it, who were always fretting about some potential lawsuit, or offering their sage advice on how to cut corners to save money.

  She had her laptop open on her otherwise bare desk, her feet propped up on an empty plastic shipping box with “CAT6 1000FT 20CT” labeled on the side. Open on her screen screen was a video chat with Paul Whedon, her CFO. Paul was one of those outsiders. He was in his late fifties and had worked for several big food and restaurant chain companies. Paul wasn’t used to the freewheeling and sometimes seemingly reckless style of business that had armed Jane with the fresh energy needed to make The Standard what it was.

  “Look, Jane. The company is no longer a startup. It’s already unusual enough that you’ve separated yourself from the main headquarters and moved down to San Diego. It’s like we’re operating without a CEO here.”

  “Once the SD office is up and running, which it will be soon, we’ll be communicating all the time like we are right now,” Jane said, stretching her hands behind her head. “Remote work is where it’s at, Paul. Eventually, I’m gonna have it so none of our corporate staff have to come in to an office at all. It’s just a waste of time and money.” She watched on the screen as Paul squirmed in his seat.

  “We need to focus on the company’s future, Jane. Where it’s going to head—Jesus, it sounds like a war zone over there. What’s going on?”

  “Sorry. They’re getting the office set up.” She leaned forward, closer to the computer. “We’re in an expansion phase, Paul. I’m not concerned about rushing to find the next big thing. We concentrate on doing what we do best, we keep listening to our customers, and eventually we’ll know what to jump onto next.”

  She’d heard this fretting before. Bigger, more, more, more. Paul wanted “innovation” to try and drive the company, but Jane knew his style of innovation. It was the same type that Apple was suffering from now—adding what wasn’t needed or what they weren’t particularly good at. Paul was fantastic with the numbers, which was why Jane had hired him, but his vision for how a coffee shop like The Standard should expand was decidedly on a different level. If Paul were CEO, they’d be well on their way to becoming a fast food joint. Hell, Jane had already given in to Paul’s suggestion of serving simple (low quality) breakfast and lunch foods. It was a compromise she’d been willing to make to keep him happy, but she wasn’t going to go any further.

  Paul shifted in his chair. “Alright. But the Chinese investors want something new, Jane.”

  Jane knew Paul wasn’t happy about taking advice from a CEO half his age, but she wasn’t going to budge on her principals. “They’re just scared that we’ll tank if we open in Shanghai. I get it. But let’s just let the coffee speak for itself, huh? And in the meantime, I’ll keep my eye out for the next big thing.” She winked at the screen. “Okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Jane.”

  “Anything else?”

  “That’s it.”

  Jane nodded. “Alright. Talk to later.” She closed the chat program, and then shut the laptop.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” a worker said, pointing to the box that Jane had her feet up on.

  “Oh, sorry.” She dropped her feet to let him take the box, and then reclined back in her chair. The next big thing. Their current big thing was the next big thing as far as she was concerned—an affordable selection of the highest quality, fair trade coffees. An artisanal selection in a friendly, accessible environment. But she knew how the game worked. Consumers were fickle. And in this day and age, it was easy to drop off the map and be replaced by something else.

  She was hungry. She got up and went downstairs to the café, which was bustling with customers. She made her rounds, greeting and checking up on the guests, and then went into the back office where Lyle was looking over some spreadsheets on his laptop.

  “Lyle, I’m gonna go to lunch. That place you told me about? Fantastic sandwiches. I’ll bring some back for the staff.”

  “Sure thing, Jane. How’d the meeting go?”

  “You know Paul. E
very day I ask myself, ‘why didn’t Lyle take the CFO position?’”

  Lyle laughed. “You know why. I couldn’t handle a position with that much pressure.”

  “You’ve got the skills for it, though. And the mindset.”

  “I know,” Lyle smiled. “Why? Is Paul not working out?”

  “He’s great. Knows his shit, of course. But like I said—you know Paul.”

  “Right. Oh, hey.” Lyle went over to his bag, unzipped it, and pulled out a sheet of pink construction paper. “Angie drew this for you.”

  Jane took the paper from Lyle. Drawn on it was a jumble of multi-colored crayon lines that just barely seemed to look like a person’s face. She laughed, surprised. “She drew this for me? That’s so sweet of her. What is it?”

  “She said it’s a drawing of you and her. She said she misses her auntie Jane.”

  Jane smiled, charmed. “Well, you tell her this is going right up on my fridge at home, at that I miss her too. I’ll be back with lunch.”

  She went up to her office to put the drawing into her work bag, and took a moment to admire it again. She smiled, thinking of Angie’s bubbly personality. She always loved to go visit Lyle and his wife, and to have her only chance to play the fun auntie. Even after all the years of spending time with Lyle and his family, she’d never longed for one of her own. Her mind had always been on the job. As she looked at the drawing, a strange feeling began to circle around deep in her heart, one that she’d never felt before. She frowned, slid the drawing into the bag, and left the office.

  Lyle had been with her from the beginning, and when The Standard had started its shoot to the top, he’d been the first one who Jane had asked to become CFO. She already knew at the time that Lyle would turn her down. He was business minded and a whiz with numbers, but he was also lacking in self-confidence. Convincing him to stay on as an assistant manager had already been a tough enough job.

  With the warm afternoon breeze on her back and the sounds of the neighborhood bustle at her ears, Jane’s mind quickly turned from business to thoughts of Bethany. She wished she had gotten her number, but somehow asking had entirely skipped her mind. She would’ve liked to have asked her out for lunch so that she didn’t have to wait an entire week just to see her again.

  I only just met the girl, she thought. Relax.

  Jane was good at compartmentalizing. She usually had no problem re-focusing her mind against distractions. For some reason, she just couldn’t stop thinking about Bethany. She’d gone to sleep the night before with her on her mind, and nothing had changed when she’d woken up. The whole day at work Bethany had been sitting in the back of her head; during the meeting with Paul, answering e-mails, talking numbers with Lyle… It hadn’t affected her ability to work, but this had never happened to her before.

  Why?

  Why now, all of a sudden?

  She could only come up with one reason. She was getting older, and she was no longer certain that dedicating her entire life to her business was what she wanted. It was a strange thought, one that she never would’ve considered ten years ago. If someone back then had asked her if she could be happy being single but highly successful for the rest of her life, she would’ve answered with a definite resounding, “yes.”

  A memory of three years prior, when Lyle’s daughter was born, came to her mind. She had been ecstatic for her friends, and she’d loved seeing Angie grow, but she never once had felt any desire or longing for what they had, or for what Lyle had with his wife and daughter. Her focus was on her business. The company was her family. The company was her child.

  I’m letting my emotions get the best of me, she thought. That’s all.

  She reached the front of LeFlorette’s and pulled open the door, and the bells hanging in the frame jingled. The place was mostly empty, and she felt an unexpected pang of guilt.

  It’s your fault, you know?

  Up behind the front counter, Jackson perked up. “Hey there again,” he smiled. “Welcome back. You just missed the owner, she just had to run out.”

  “Are you serious?” Jane said. “Well, that’s fine. I’m actually here just for the sandwiches today. Can you guys do a bulk order? It’s nothing crazy, just six sandwiches. For my office.”

  “Sure, I can do six. I’m by myself, so it might take a little bit longer, is that okay?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Spicy chickens?”

  “You know it.”

  She paid for the sandwiches and then sat down at the counter while Jackson hurried to the back to start making them. She rubbed her jaw. There was no bruising, but it had gotten so sore during the night that it’d woken her up and sent her searching through the moving boxes for a bottle of Tylenol.

  She really wanted to see Bethany again to talk more with her… and to get back in the ring together. She wanted to beat her and even the score. Just thinking about seeing her again sent shivers of excitement through her body that she had to fight to control.

  She chewed her lip. Get a hold of yourself.

  “So, you work nearby?” Jackson asked as he slid the six sandwiches onto the grill.

  “Yeah, in the neighborhood,” she replied.

  “What do you do?”

  Jane winced. “It’s a… I’m a manager for a… small local company.” She gritted her teeth.

  She didn’t feel good about having lying to Jackson, but she knew that telling him who she was wouldn’t a great idea. The funny thing was that she’d gone through this situation before, and had never had a problem saying just who she was even if it might cause a scene. It wasn’t something she relished doing, but she didn’t feel terrible about it either. After all, The Standard had started small too. To Jane, a place’s failure meant they hadn’t fought hard enough, or smart enough.

  “It’s really nice of you to buy lunch for your office,” he said over the sizzling grill. The savory smell of spices and grilled onions filled the air, making Jane’s stomach rumble. It even perked up the two other customers sitting in the corner, and they looked over towards the kitchen to see what was cooking.

  “What can I say? I’m a thoughtful boss.”

  “I would think getting lunch’d be the intern’s job,” he said, flipping the sandwiches over in quick succession.

  “I’ve been blessed with an extra ounce of free time,” she replied. “I’m actually new to the neighborhood. Well, somewhat. I was born here, moved out of town for work, and I got a transfer back. Decided I’d check out the neighborhood, see where the good spots are.”

  “No way! Well, we’ve been around for a good two decades. We’re a family shop. The owner, her parents opened it back in the day, when she was just a baby.”

  “They’re retired now, or something?” she asked. “I have to admit, I don’t remember this place.”

  “No,” he said, his voice slightly distant. “They… both passed away at a fairly young age, sadly. Callie—Mrs. LeFlorette—she left us only three years ago.”

  “I see,” Jane said, a heavy sinking feeling tugging at her heart. “I’m sorry.” She felt terrible, but what could be done? It was part of the business. Part of life. “It sounds like you knew her quite well? How long have you been working here?”

  Jackson slid the sandwiches off the grill and onto a long wooden cutting board, and pulled out a serrated bread knife. “I started working here when I was in high school, so it’s been a good number of years.” He smiled. “Though if you hadn’t noticed, we aren’t exactly the most popular place on the block anymore. I don’t know how much longer we have left, hate to say it.”

  “I’m surprised more folks aren’t coming in for your sandwiches,” Jane said honestly. “I don’t see much competition there.”

  “We’re still hanging in because of our regulars.” He wrapped each sandwich in paper, sliced them diagonally, and then wrapped them again in foil and packed them into a plastic bag. He put the bag onto the counter in front of Jane and leaned in as if he was going to let her in
on a secret. “You’re probably right. We’re competing for coffee, but we could be doing more about our sandwiches.” He shrugged. “I don’t know much about that kind of thing. Here’s your sandwiches.”

  Jane laughed. “Thanks,” she said, picking up the bag. “You have a great day, Jackson.” She headed for the door.

  “You too… oh. I never got your name.”

  She stopped at the door. “Jane,” she said, after a second’s pause.

  Eight

  Bethany refused to admit it to both Jackson and Marcos, even with their endless prodding and teasing, but she really hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that next boxing class. What she felt most towards Jane was a cautious curiosity. Over the week she’d found herself daydreaming about what their next exchange would be like, and the more she played it in her mind, the more she started to dip into fantasy. Cautiousness was slowly becoming excitement, and by the time class day came, seeing Jane again was all that was on her mind.