As the lyrical tinkle of wind chimes announced the arrival of the first Saturday customer at Bev’s Book Nook, Vienna lowered the lid of her laptop and took a deep breath.
Hopefully the basic procedural instructions Mom had given her yesterday would be sufficient for a day and a half of work. Not that Mom had seemed in the least worried about leaving her shop in the hands of a rookie salesclerk. After the cursory briefing, she’d been more interested in enthusing about her road trip to Seattle.
But why fret? Her mom was a text away if anything went awry.
“Good morning.” Vienna smiled as the twentysomething woman with triple-pierced ears and spiky, multicolor hair who was often behind the counter at The Perfect Blend entered. Bren, if her recollection of the woman’s nametag was correct. “May I help you?”
“Is Bev here?”
“No. She’s out of town.”
“Oh.” The barista didn’t attempt to hide her disappointment. “She ordered a book for me, and while I was in town, I thought I’d stop by and see if it had come in.”
“She didn’t mention anything about it to me, but let me poke around in back. It’s Bren, right?” She slid off the stool.
“Yeah. You’re Bev’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“You’ve been at The Blend a lot the past couple of weeks.”
“I know. I love the ambiance. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but what I’ve sampled has been delicious. And your pastries are to die for.”
“Zach’s a stickler about quality.”
“It shows. Give me a sec.”
Vienna pushed through the swinging door into the back room, but a fast circuit of the stock on the shelving and her mother’s desk didn’t produce any results.
“Sorry.” She returned to the shop. “I don’t see anything.”
“No worries. Bev usually texts me when a book arrives, so I had a feeling it wasn’t here.”
In that case, why had she stopped in?
The woman answered the unspoken question with her next comment.
“It must be great to have a mother like Bev.”
Ah. She was here because she liked being around Mom.
No surprise there. Judging by Bren’s appearance, she and Mom were kindred spirits. And if Bren’s fashion idiosyncrasies weren’t tolerated well by her own family, she’d found a sympathetic ear in Mom.
“She’s an amazing person.” Vienna slid back onto her stool.
“Also an awesome listener.” Bren fiddled with the zipper pull on her jacket. “When will she be back?”
“Monday.”
“I’ll stop in after work.”
She must really want to talk to Mom.
“If it’s important, I could text her and ask her to call you.”
“No. Thanks anyway.” Her lips quirked up. “I just need a Bev fix. Seriously, your mom should hang out a shingle. Half the town parades through here looking for advice.”
Huh.
Mom had always been gregarious and empathetic, but who knew she’d become Dr. Phil? And why hadn’t those skills helped her with her daughter and parents?
Then again, it was harder to connect with unreceptive subjects than with people who sought out your advice and counsel.
“Mom can always be counted on to offer an honest opinion.” At the very least.
“That’s true.” Bren flicked a glance toward the cookie jar Vienna had filled earlier.
“Help yourself.” She lifted the lid. “Mom baked a fresh batch last night. They’ve been calling to me, but I’m trying to resist. I won’t be able to stop at one, and I don’t want the calories.”
“Thanks.” Bren took a cookie with a bakery tissue and meandered down the counter to examine the jewelry in the glass display case. “Your mom is super talented. Katherine Parker is a regular customer. She wore a pair of Bev’s earrings for her photo shoot for People and gave your mom credit.”
Vienna’s jaw dropped. “Katherine Parker, the actress?”
“Yep.” Bren continued to examine the jewelry. “She married Zach, and now she runs Chocolate Harbor next door to the coffee shop. But she still acts too. Bev said orders skyrocketed after that article.” Bren straightened. “If you talk to your mom, will you tell her I’ll be by Monday?”
“Sure.”
Bren disappeared out the door as Vienna digested this new piece of intel about her mother. Before she finished processing it, however, another customer entered.
Vienna switched mental gears and put her salesclerk hat back on. “May I help you?”
“I hope so.” The woman joined her at the counter. “I live up in Coos Bay, but I was in here last month and put a deposit on a piece of jewelry. I wanted to pay the balance and pick up the piece, but I’ve misplaced my receipt. Could you check your records and see if you can find my transaction? I can give you the date and the amount I was billed.”
This could be beyond her limited skill set.
“I’ll be happy to try, but the owner is out of town this weekend and I’m filling in for her. Why don’t you give me the information and I’ll see what I can dig up?”
The woman recited it. “Don’t hurry. I like browsing in this shop.”
As the customer wandered off, Vienna tapped a finger on the register.
While the sales data was probably stored in Mom’s point-of-sale system, instructions on how to access that hadn’t been part of last night’s crash course. But it was possible Mom also kept other transaction records.
Vienna retreated to the back room and booted up the PC on the desk. While she waited, she checked the shelves in back and found a box with the woman’s name on it. No balance-due information attached, though.
She returned to the desk and dug out the passwords Mom had left with her in case there was an emergency. Riffled through the file drawers. All were neatly organized, but there was nothing that resembled a physical ledger.
No surprise there. Most records were kept online these days.
Once she was into the computer, she didn’t have to look far to find a promising Excel document. It was on the left of the desktop, labelled “sales.”
Vienna opened the spreadsheet and gave it a quick scan to get the lay of the land.
Mom kept her records by month, recording every online and in-person transaction in meticulous detail. This must be why her instructions had included not only checking customers out but keeping a list of what was sold and the amounts.
Yet the Excel document contained more data than that. Mom had typed in notes after many of the transactions. Like, “surgery coming up,” “son deployed overseas,” “issues with parents,” “new job in offing.”
No wonder her customers loved her. She cared about them as both patrons and people.
Vienna switched to the previous month, scrolled down to the date the customer had indicated, and inspected each transaction until she found a jewelry sale with a deposit that matched the amount the woman had provided. She jotted down the total and balance due.
As she prepared to stand, she skimmed the month-end totals at the bottom.
Did a double take.
Whoa.
Mom was not hurting for money.
Yes, there were expenses to running the shop, and book sales weren’t staggering. But the amount from those sales ought to cover operating costs. It was the income from the jewelry that was mind boggling.
Bren must not have been kidding about Mom’s sales skyrocketing.
Or perhaps they’d always been strong. After all, Mom had said several stores in Eugene had stocked her jewelry and that she’d had online orders even before she’d opened the shop.
Apparently the woman who’d once lived paycheck to paycheck and never cared about commercial success had developed a lucrative business and was a profitable entrepreneur in spite of herself. Based on her meticulous records, she’d also traded chaos for structure—at least in terms of finance.
Vienna shook her head.
One more Mom surprise to add to her growing list.
She picked up the slip of paper, retrieved the box, and returned to the front of the store. “I found the information. Here’s the total and balance due, along with your purchase.” She handed the woman the slip of paper and set the box on the counter.
“Thank you so much for your help.” She withdrew her credit card as Vienna rang up the balance.
Once the woman finished the transaction and left, quiet descended. For all of five minutes.
Then a steady flow of traffic kept Vienna hopping through midafternoon.
Sheesh.
How did her mom ever carve out a few minutes to eat lunch?
By three thirty, as the wind chimes on the door signaled the departure of the last customer in the current crop, Vienna escaped to the back room to grab another bottle of water and scarf down the yogurt she’d brought for lunch. The fruit would have to wait until later.
Thank goodness she could lock the door in ninety minutes. And tomorrow would be a short afternoon shift.
Retail sales were definitely not for her, even if Mom appeared to thrive in this environment. Par for the course, though. Their interests had always been at opposite ends of the spectrum.
As she twisted the cap off the bottle and prepared to take a swig, the chimes sounded again.
Good grief.
It appeared her yogurt would remain uneaten too.
She set the water on the desk and returned to the front of the shop. Halted as the identity of the latest customer registered.
What was Matt doing here?
He seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him, and his greeting confirmed that impression. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”
Pert and perky. That was her game plan.
She called up a smile. “I’m filling in for Mom.” She gave him a topline about her mother’s trip to Seattle. “Can I help you find a book?”
“No. I just thought I’d drop in while I was in town to pilfer a cookie. I was in the market for a sweet treat and some of the upbeat aura your mom radiated on my first visit.”
So Matt had succumbed to her mother’s charms too, like everyone else in town.
But why did he need to be around her upbeat aura?
Not a question she could ask.
“Sorry you got me instead.”
“I’m not complaining.” The corners of his mouth flexed a hair.
She squinted at him.
Was that a compliment? A come-on? A simple comment?
More likely a comeback he already regretted, given the flush creeping up his neck.
Wisest course was to let the remark pass and move on.
“I can offer you a cookie, though. Mom made them last night.” She lifted the lid on the jar by the register.
After a tiny hesitation, he crossed to her.
She pulled one out with a piece of baker’s tissue and held it out to him.
His fingers brushed hers as he took it, and her breath lodged in her throat.
Dang, this man could play havoc with her respiration.
Not to mention her heart.
He eased back, cookie in hand, faint furrows denting his brow. As if he was thinking about a very serious subject. Perhaps the one that had sent him in search of Mom’s upbeat aura. Like his late wife? The problems with the inn, and the state of his sister’s finances? The short-staffed vet practice he’d left behind in San—
“If your mom’s gone, that must mean you’re on your own for dinner tonight.”
She blinked.
That wasn’t remotely close to what she’d assumed was on his mind.
“Um . . .” She tried to get her stuck brain in gear.
Matt broke the lengthening silence. “I’m getting pizza from Frank’s. Andrew and Paige love it. Why don’t you join us?”
Her mouth began to water. If she’d eaten lunch, it would be much easier to resist his invitation.
But why not accept? Four people eating pizza together was about as innocuous as you could get. And as soon as they were finished, she could escape to her room to watch Mom’s awards program.
“I do like Frank’s pizza.”
“Then eat with us.”
“Okay. I will. Thanks.”
“What kind of pizza do you like?”
“I’m not picky. The one ingredient I avoid is olives. Everything else is fair game.”
“No olives. Got it. What time works for you?”
“I close here at five. Why don’t I bring Mom’s leftover cookies for dessert—unless you already have that covered?”
“No. I keep ice cream on hand, but that’s it. You don’t have to bring dessert, though.”
“I insist. In fact, since I’ll be out anyway, would you like me to pick up the pizza too?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll take care of that. Why don’t we plan to eat at six?”
“That’ll be fine.”
“See you then.” He lifted his cookie, took a bite, and strolled toward the door.
As the musical chimes filled the shop, Vienna sank onto the stool behind the counter, a delicious tingle racing up her spine.
Dinner with Matt.
And Andrew and Paige too, of course.
Much more pleasant than a solitary meal at the Myrtle, or the leftover tofu-based stir fry in Mom’s fridge from their dinner two nights ago that had been surprisingly tasty. Mom had suggested she eat it tonight for dinner, but it would keep another day or two.
Vienna rested her elbow on the counter and propped her chin in her palm.
When had she last shared dinner with a man? Six months ago, maybe? Yes. With the guy she’d met during the social hour after the multi-church Christmas concert. An engineer.
A date so unremarkable his name had evaporated from her memory.
That wasn’t going to happen with Matt. No matter where she ended up after landing a new job, she wasn’t going to forget him.
So why not enjoy tonight? Once Mom returned, the two of them would resume their nightly get-togethers for the duration of her stay. This would be her one chance to enjoy a meal with Matt, in the company of two chaperones.
It was an ideal setup.
Because what could possibly go wrong with a simple, casual, lighthearted pizza dinner?