You certainly have sophisticated taste!” Chelsea said, adding a third shot of espresso to a steaming café breve.
“It’s for my mom. It’s her birthday,” said the boy. He couldn’t have been older than ten, eleven tops. But his eyes seemed wiser. His skinny frame appeared in desperate need of a warm jacket.
“How ’bout a hot chocolate for you? It’s a little chilly outside.”
“That’s okay, I’m fine.”
Chelsea scooped up the boy’s pocket change. He was a quarter short of $3.55, but she wasn’t going to count that against him. “I’m Chelsea. I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Do you live around here?”
“I’m Marcus. I live a couple miles away.”
Chelsea wondered if he had walked from La Bandera. “I tell you what, Marcus. Your hot chocolate’s on the house today. And so are these blueberry muffins,” she said, wrapping them up to go. For the last three days, Chelsea had thrown away stale leftover baked goods. She’d much rather see someone enjoy them while they were fresh.
“Really? Wow . . . Thank you, ma’am!” Marcus pulled his baseball cap over his mop of dark hair. “I’ll be sure to come back here. To buy stuff,” he added in earnest. “Hope to see you next week!”
“See you then,” Chelsea said.
But the words felt false. She had taken a good hard look at her finances. The bottom line was this: Chelsea’s days at the café were numbered. The month was coming to a close, and she was still $8,500 short of her payment to the IRS.
She glanced at the clock. Two hours before closing. One hundred forty-eight lattes short of her daily quota. “Manny!” she hollered. “I’m making the call.”
Manny entered from the kitchen. “Closing for the day, boss?”
“I’m calling a realtor.” Chelsea closed her eyes, collecting her emotions. “I’m closing the café. For good.” She forced a smile. It was better than crying.
“Oh, Chelsea. No! You can’t!” Manny proved far less capable at controlling his emotions. He fell into a chair, his shoulders slumped.
Chelsea comforted him with a few pats on the back. Wait, is he crying? Shouldn’t I be the one crying?
“But what are you going to do now?” he asked.
A very good question. Chelsea could afford the first month’s bill with the dwindling cash in her savings. If she could make a quick sale on the café, she would be free of her mother’s debt. And after that? She couldn’t afford to think that far ahead.
“Right now . . . we are going to clean this place up. You can help yourself to any of the baked goods.”
Chelsea had been holding onto a real estate brochure touting the “Best of Alamo Heights” ever since Deb’s birthday party. It was hard to believe a few short weeks ago her idea of a next step was purchasing a McMansion. She put in a call to the realtor listed on the back.
What kind of name was Dennis Darling?
Emily descended the stairs, a bag of baby carrots in her hand, just as Chelsea was wrapping up the call with Dennis. He seemed to live up to his name, at least on the phone.
“Hey, Mom?” Emily asked.
Chelsea put her finger to her lips and pulled Emily onto her lap. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Chelsea said. “Oh, well, I look forward to meeting you too.” She set down the phone.
“Why are you smiling, Mom?” Emily asked.
“I’m not,” Chelsea said, reining in the grin that had crept onto her face.
“Oh. What’s wrong with Manny?”
Chelsea followed Emily’s gaze. A sniffling Manny disappeared into the kitchen with a warm, gooey chocolate lava cake. “Oh, I think Manny’s just really . . . hungry.”
“We need to get him some healthy snacks,” Emily said.
Ding! Ding! Two striking figures entered the café, a brawny, dark-skinned man accompanied by a towering woman with blond hair and blazing blue eyes.
“Wow,” Emily said. “Are you from the Olympics?”
The woman smiled. “We’re here to upgrade your Internet service.”
Chelsea couldn’t place her accent. Dutch? Norwegian, maybe? “I’m afraid I didn’t ask for any upgrade.” Chelsea stood, placing Emily back on the seat. “Manny?”
Manny moped into the café, still chomping on cake. But upon seeing the visitors, his mouth emptied. Like a chocolate volcano. Chelsea knew she wouldn’t be making lava cake again for a very long while.
“Do you know anything about an Internet upgrade?” she asked him.
Manny gave a tentative nod. “Is it the plan that’s free of charge for the first three months?”
“That’s the one.” The man’s biceps bulged as he opened a metal case. “Best connection we offer,” he said, placing a gleaming sphere on the table in front of Chelsea.
“It’s beautiful!” Manny marveled at the curious device. “But smaller than I imagined.” His fingers hovered inches above the object. “May I touch it?”
Had Manny lost his mind?
“Let’s not touch anything yet. It looks expensive,” Chelsea said. “What are the terms? Do I have to sign something?”
“No, it’s a just a trial period. If you wish to discontinue our service in three months, we’ll remove the router. No questions, no charges.”
Chelsea wasn’t convinced. “I’m not really big on the Internet. Besides, I probably won’t even be here in three months.”
“Where will we be, Mom?” Hancock asked. Chelsea hadn’t even seen him come downstairs.
“With Daddy?” Emily perked up.
“That’s enough, everybody!” After a long day of hard decisions, Chelsea’s patience had worn thin. She turned to the serviceman. “No additional charges?”
“Absolutely none,” he said.
Chelsea picked up the router. “How fast can you install it?”
“Before you can say amen,” he said with a smile.
Chelsea watched the duo walk out the door. Pushy salespeople rubbed her the wrong way. Especially ones that looked like supermodels. And now everything was bothering her. Even Manny.
He was sweeping the floor around her feet, whistling a jolly tune. What did he have to be so cheerful about? But then again, what did it matter now? There was a much harder conversation ahead.
“C’mon, kiddos,” Chelsea said. “Let’s go get supper.”
She was halfway up the stairs when the front door sounded the arrival of a customer. My final customer, she thought. She sent the kids to set the table and ceremoniously prepared “the last latte of the Higher Grounds Café” for a pensive patron named Miles, who had introduced himself and settled in with his laptop at a corner table.
“Your Internet’s broken,” he announced in a deep, booming voice as Chelsea delivered his latte. His eyes never left his screen.
“That’s impossible!” Manny cried, dropping his broom and running to the man’s side. At the sight of the screen, Manny squealed like a schoolgirl.
“What?” Chelsea asked. “What is it, Manny?”
“It’s perfect!”
Miles grimaced. “No, it’s broken, I assure you. I can only get to one website.”
“Well, let’s just hope it’s a good one,” Chelsea joked.
“Trust me,” Manny said with a grin. “You won’t be disappointed.”