by Annora Green
“Sounds like your perfect match,” Sophia grumbled.
Poor, unfortunate soul who was about to be married to her lunatic of a sister, she thought to herself.
“He is a delight,” Sabrina cooed, clasping her hands dramatically to her chest as Sophia set a steaming cup of green tea in front of her. “So handsome, so darling. I will treasure him forever and ever.”
“He sounds more like a prize than a partner,” Sophia pointed out.
She giggled. “Well, maybe he is. Nothing wrong with a little eye - and arm - candy, is there? So, sis. Enough about me. How’s your love life these days?”
Sophia sat down next to her sister, frowning, and cradled her hot coffee in one hand while reaching for a turnover with the other.
“There’s not much to speak of in way of my love life, but that’s because I’m drowning in work,” she said simply.
Sabrina shook her head as she delicately took another bite of the turnover. “So sad that you spend so much of your time on that silly little business. Haven’t you made enough money to retire yet?”
Sophia sighed. “I’m 35. Not 64. And no, I’d rather not quit my career and drain my life savings in my 30s.”
“Oh, but it’s so much fun,” Sabrina said, eyes wide, feigning concern. “I’m also worried you won’t have a date to bring to my wedding. What a shame that would be, so many romantic couples swirling around to the live music, and you all alone, lingering off to the side... sad, really.”
Sabrina’s wedding was not even until the late spring. Sophia could scrounge up someone from her little black book by then, she thought. Couldn’t she? Perhaps Walter... or Andre... or... wait, they were both married. No matter, she would figure it out.
“I have time,” she grumbled. “I’ll find someone. Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you by showing up unchaperoned to your precious wedding.”
“I’d hate to have to set you up with Cousin Phil,” she said, her eyes flashing mischievously.
“That won’t happen,” Sophia said, unamused by the prospect.
“All right, if you say so. But let me know if you need any help in that department. I know lots of people, and so does William,” she laughed to herself, clearly thinking of something.
Sophia chewed her turnover in silence.
“What about Percy? Will he bring a date?” Sabrina asked.
“Not unless you’re talking about the wedding you’ll have when he’s 25,” said Sophia, rolling her eyes.
¨°¨
Percy finally made his way downstairs just before 11, and Sophia sat with him while he ate his turnover and freshly squeezed orange-pineapple-ginger-kale juice - his favorite combination in her mandatory morning health juice repertoire. After breakfast, Percy left to hang out with some friends and visit a comic book store a few blocks from FORBIDDEN. After driving him into town, Sophia decided it was an opportune time to stop by her own store.
She normally tried to not make a habit of going into her shop on Sunday, but this was a busy season, after all, and her assistant manager, Seth, was going to be handling things in the shop today so Elle, who had worked 7 days in a row, could have a well-deserved day off. She had a few things she wanted to discuss with Seth about an upcoming New Year’s event at the store.
But as she approached her shop from her parking spot a block away, she noticed a brand new spectacle outside of The Little Cafe and forgot all about her schedule.
Outside the cafe, there were now tables and chairs. A few of the inflatable decorations had been taken down and replaced with a live fiddle player, someone playing what appeared to be a ukulele, and a singer that was brooding moodily.
Sophia swore under her breath as she sized up the scene.
Then, she stormed into the cafe, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dark interior, searching for Ari. The smell of delicious, fresh, perfect coffee instantly called to her, but she forced herself to ignore it.
“Is Ari around?” She asked the barista behind the counter who made the homemade donuts - Rachel, was it? - who was setting a latte down at a table.
“Yeah, she is. Anything in particular you need?” Rachel asked, towering over her with a hand on a hip and narrowing her eyes that were coated with mascara and slick black eyeliner.
“I need to talk to her,” Sophia said.
The woman raised her eyebrows, wiped her hand on the tiny black apron she wore over her sequined skirt and told her to hang on a minute.
Sophia went up to the bar and sat on one of the stools. Why did everything have to smell - and look - so good in here? She wanted to ignore the place altogether in hopes it would go out of business, but glancing around, it looked like today was even more crowded than yesterday had been. Every table was filled, and many of the stools at the shiny counter were occupied by patrons sipping and munching on fragrant treats, appearing to be content and well-caffeinated.
“Sophia. You’re back,” said Ari, stepping up to her behind the counter. “What can I get you today?”
“Ms. Little. Good morning. What I would like today is an explanation for why you decided to hold a ridiculous and noisy spectacle outside in the public space, destroying virtually every town ordinance concerning live performances.”
Ari crossed her arms. “It’s something for my customers to enjoy and is definitely not a spectacle. I put a few tables out there so my patrons could sit outside and enjoy coffee and music.”
Sophia opened her mouth to speak.
“Wait. Let me finish, please,” Ari said firmly. “I also want to let you know I spoke with Arnie of the Retail Association - his name was listed on the website as the Association’s contact person - and got all of the details on what I can and cannot do. I learned I was not supposed to have inflatable decorations because of some weird little bylaw, so thanks for your warning, you might’ve noticed they’re gone now. However, I also learned that the other things I’ve got out there are totally acceptable. Plus, live music during certain hours of the day is also allowed with a permit, which I have,” she said, producing a small piece of paper from her pocket. “I got it 100% approved by Arnie himself.”
Sophia’s jaw clenched as she studied the woman. “Why are you so insistent on attracting this kind of attention to your cafe, Ms. Little? Can’t you understand that it is disrespecting all of the other quiet and sophisticated businesses on this street?”
“No, it’s not,” A woman said, overhearing their conversation, a to-go cup of coffee in her hand with the The Little Cafe logo printed on it.
Sophia looked over at her. She thought she recognized the woman from the gourmet salad restaurant across the street.
“We needed a coffee place around here. It attracts more customers to this part of town, they grab their coffee, shop more, get lunch at my restaurant afterwards. And this outdoor space looks real nice. Very festive,” she said, nodding and smiling at Ari.
“It seems,” Ari said, turning back to Sophia, “I’m not disrupting anything. Look, I’m just trying to get business. I’m also trying to follow the rules. My outdoor patio and festive Christmas display have both been approved by the right people. We’re neighbors, so I want to be civil. You’re welcome to ignore all of my decorations - which, by the way, will be gone after next weekend once New Year’s has passed - and you can either ignore me, too, or take me up on my policy of free coffee for neighbors.”
“I want nothing to do with your coffee,” Sophia said.
“I’ve got customers to serve. Talk to you later. Or not,” Ari snapped, her expression dark, resuming her work.
“Goodbye, Ms. Little,” Sophia replied, and without a backwards glance, left.
¨°¨
Between the early morning visit from Sabrina and the bedlam that was having The Little Cafe next door, as she stepped into her shop, Sophia could only think about how she was suddenly regretting having given up smoking a year prior.
Behind the counter of her shop was Seth, politely answering questions from a woman who Sophia reco
gnized as a regular customer.
Seth was an excellent manager, nearly as good as Elle. Organized, smart, impeccably dressed. The only drawback with him was that he was a bit unconventional, and at times glib, behind the scenes. He had a penchant for bringing up awkward topics with coworkers, everything from tales of his mother, to detailed descriptions about the type of women he liked to date, to the occasional, dreaded, thinly-veiled suggestions that he and Sophia should go out sometime.
Sophia ignored his passes, knowing that the same lack of reservation was what made him so good with customers on the floor (he didn’t, mercifully, bring up awkward topics with her clients, and that, she decided, was what counted). On top of it, he was efficient and creative, and he’d offered many helpful suggestions, like exclusive sales events and exclusive evening soirees for her most loyal customers.
So she kept him around, as the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks, and gritted her teeth and dealt with it when, once again, that afternoon he brought up the topic of a new restaurant.
“It’s Japanese fusion. Delicious, healthy, a well-known chef. It was reviewed in the newspaper and got top marks,” he said.
“Did it?” Sophia asked vaguely, hoping her lack of interest carried through in her tone. She knew where this was going.
“Yes,” Seth said, once again not picking up the hint.
He never got the hint.
“So, if you want to step out and want to try it at lunch sometime, perhaps next week...” he suggested as Sophia busily arranged a new display of bras in a back corner of the shop.
“I’ll keep it in mind, Seth,” she said noncommittally. “Now, would you mind going upstairs to fetch that box of silk robes for me, please?”
¨°¨
On Monday, Sophia arrived at work and found that the display in front of Ari’s cafe has toned down ever so slightly. No live musicians, and the obnoxious inflatable decorations that she had removed were still gone, still not replaced with anything that could be upsetting. Just a wintery scene (or as wintery as California can get in December) of fairy lights and a few small potted trees, and the tables still outside.
Sophia had combed through her sales reports at home the afternoon prior. Earlier this morning Elle had texted her a link to a trendy fashion vlogger who had featured a few items from her winter line, which had subsequently made visits to her online shop soar. She was in a generally upbeat mood when she greeted Elle downstairs, who was folding crimson satin pajama sets on a table.
“How are you today?” Sophia asked her.
“Good! I got some Christmas shopping done yesterday, finally,” Elle smiled.
“Anyone in particular you had to shop for?” Sophia asked.
To her knowledge, Elle was single, and she didn’t have any children.
“Maybe a special someone,” Elle said coyly. “How are you this morning?”
“Not too bad,” Sophia said.
“Is Percy excited for Christmas?” Elle asked, sensing that Sophia was in a rare mood for small talk.
“He is. He emailed me a long wish list of video games a few weeks ago, so he’ll likely find a few of those under the tree. I still have to bake our annual Christmas cookies with him.”
“Molasses spice?”
“You have a good memory,” Sophia smiled, as she moved towards the velvet curtain and went upstairs.
Her mood dampened slightly when she remembered that the coffee machine was still broken. Someone had pulled a tea kettle and French press out from some forgotten cupboard somewhere. Sophia studied the implements for a few moments and decided that a French press just wasn’t worth exploring first thing on a Monday morning.
She said hello to two of her seamstresses who were in today. They were working on finishing up special orders from some of her more elite clientele who had the budget for bespoke work. A young man who handled shipments for her online store and managed her inventory, most of which was located in a warehouse some 20 minutes away, was also in the office this morning. He had stopped into the office to fill out some paperwork.
Finally at her desk, she opened up her laptop to discover that she had an email reply from the mayor of Palo Rosa, who invited her to present her grievances with The Little Cafe that evening at the monthly town meeting.
Sophia was tempted to reply and say she was dropping the issue until after the holidays. She really was busy. Ari’s little spectacle had been a nuisance all weekend long, sure, but things seemed to have settled down this morning. She had more important things to do than to battle a blonde barista.
Before she could reply to the message, she was interrupted. First, by Elle, who had some things to go over with her about holiday schedules and a special post-Christmas, pre-New Year’s event that Seth was coordinating. She was also brainstorming ways to drum up hype for Valentine’s Day as soon as January was underway. Finally, she needed approvals on several custom orders that had come in over the weekend.
The second time Sophia thought about writing the email, she paused as she realized she had a headache coming on. This one was likely caused by the lack of a decent cup of coffee all morning. But as she tried to go downstairs to ask Elle if she would be willing to run over to The Little Cafe while Sophia kept an eye on the shop, she was bombarded with questions from her seamstresses about the custom orders and their work on new designs for upcoming collections.
The coffee was quickly forgotten.
By the time Sophia was finished, lunchtime had come and gone and it was only her growling stomach that reminded her it was time to go across the street to the salad restaurant for her usual Monday order of kale, pomegranate, quinoa and Meyer lemon detox salad.
She stepped outside, and out of habit, glanced towards Ari’s cafe. Out front, as usual there were several people sitting at the bistro tables, but today, there was a new attraction added to the mix.
Rachel.
Rachel was standing outside in decidedly non-daytime attire and handing out samples of coffee and wedges of donuts, along with tiny slips of paper.
Sophia stood completely still, observing Rachel in the way a hawk might eye its prey before swooping in for the attack.
It was not that Sophia took issue with Rachel’s choice of attire. She was, after all, a designer of lingerie, and thus hardly a prude when it came to clothing. People could wear whatever they wanted to wear, for all Sophia cared. But the spectacle of it all, during the daytime on a Monday no less, felt so cheap; Rachel clearly positioning herself outside of the cafe to attract the attention of any and all pedestrians. She was, to put it simply, sending a less-than-desirable message and destroying the atmosphere of Palo Rosa.
And just when she had thought everything had settled down, no less.
Sophia forgot about the salad and growing hunger in her stomach and stormed past Rachel, pushing her way through the doors and entering the cafe.
And then it hit her.
She had had too little to eat so far that day, and finding herself surrounded by the luscious aromas of fresh coffee, donuts, and warm, yeasty cinnamon bread made her head spin.
Her stomach nearly caused her to surrender, turn around and just go get her damn salad, until she spotted the source of her annoyance innocently making a cappuccino.
She walked over.
“Do you have a permit for handing out food samples on the sidewalk?” Sophia demanded, not giving Ari the chance to get a word in first.
“A... what? Come on,” Ari said distractedly, glancing up at her. “How and why would a permit be necessary to hand out free samples and coupons to pedestrians right in front of my cafe? Right where they’re all already sitting and ordering food anyways?”
“I didn’t make the rules,” Sophia replied tartly.
“Look, Rach is practically inside, she’s standing in the doorway. And it’s only during lunchtime. Just trying to drum up business.”
“I think Rachel is trying to drum up a little something else,” Sophia said.
Ari rolled her
eyes. “Didn’t take you for a prude.”
“A permit is needed to hand out food samples to the general public,” Sophia said in a firm and authoritative tone.
Even as she said it, though, she knew she was exaggerating. Street vendors could not sell food without a permit. Handing out a free sample just outside one’s entrance was hardly the same as being a street vendor. Sophia knew no one else would really bat an eye at Ari or her employees handing out free samples.
But these were not normal circumstances. This woman was starting to seriously irritate her. And Sophia wanted to make it very clear to Ari who had been first to set up shop in Palo Rosa, and who was entitled to enforce the rules and standards of practice around here.
“What is your problem? Seriously. Do you just really hate coffee, or what? What did I do to you?” Ari asked, starting to lose it, her cheeks turning slightly red over the steam of the machine.
“I love coffee. I don’t like petulant coffee shop owners who march into town and think they can steamroll over our quiet mannerisms and way of doing business-”
“You’re not really demonstrating ‘quiet mannerisms,’” Ari interrupted her to point out.
Sophia ignored her and continued, “-and totally upset a retail environment where many small businesses have worked very hard to attract a very discerning clientele in a competitive market.”
“Look around,” Ari replied while pouring steamed milk into a mug. “Does this shop look like some half-assed establishment that’s taking away from the quality or prestige of your precious little shopping district?”
“I should hope it does not,” said a familiar, velvety voice next to Sophia.
