“You didn’t see the ” Opal asks.
A customer reaches for one of the West Bend Gazette newspapers lying on a table near the counter, as if it’s totally normal that she’s listening to our conversation. “This article."
My eyes scan the headline and then the article itself, my head spinning as I attempt to take it in.
“It’s good press,” Opal notes. “It’s not an exposé or anything.”
“It really is,” the nosy customer interjects. “It’s the most interesting thing to happen at a store in West Bend in at least the past few months. Probably since Martha Talbot started carrying all of those erotic books at the bookstore. You’d get even more business if you had that man shirtless behind the counter, you know. Wouldn't hurt to start carrying some of those dirty books here, either."
I look up from the newspaper at the customer, who’s looking at me as if giving me advice on how to exploit my employee’s appearance is completely appropriate.
“What?” she asks, her voice innocent. “I’m sixty years old. I need something nice to look at, too.”
“Why stop there?” I ask. “Why don’t I hire all male staff and parade them around shirtless while you stuff dollar bills down their pants in between sips of coffee?”
“Oh, I’d come here every day if you did that,” the woman behind her pipes up.
“That was sarcasm."
“Well, there’s no need to be rude,” she sniffs. “Does this mean the gentleman with the beard isn’t coming in today?”
“No,” I say tersely. “He is not.”
Opal doesn’t waste any time. As soon as I turn the sign in the front window to “closed” in the afternoon, she starts in on me.
“You know,” she says, "it was a lot easier on me last week when Mr. Saint was here in the mornings.”
I exhale heavily. “Not you too, Opal.”
I’ve heard it all morning from customers now. Mostly female customers. Where’s the guy with the beard? We heard about the rules. We wanted to see for ourselves. Why are the rules not on the board? Was the article wrong?
The article in the West Bend Gazette drummed up more business than we’ve ever had. And thanks to being in the front of the store with Opal all day, I’m behind on a cake I’m supposed to make, which means I’ll have to come back here with Chloe and have her do her homework here this afternoon while I work.
I already feel guilty bringing Chloe into work and I haven’t even done it yet.
“I’m an old woman." Opal clucks her tongue. "It's hard for me to do things sometimes."
“I can’t believe you just tried to use that to guilt me into getting Killian back here. You’re in better shape than I am.”
Opal smiles. “Can’t blame an old woman for trying. Now, are you going to tell me what happened, or is a text saying that he isn’t coming in going to be all I get?”
I sigh as I restock a napkin holder. “Nothing happened."
“Mmm-hmm,” Opal grunts as she wipes a table. “That’s why you come in here today all huffy and bent out of shape.”
“I am not huffy and bent out of shape,” I protest.
Opal arches her eyebrow and gives me a look. “If I looked up 'huffy' in the dictionary, your picture would be right underneath it."
"I'm not letting Killian Saint waltz in here and change everything about this place." I don't even try to hide the edge in my voice. "Those rules were over the line. They were beyond inappropriate. They were rude and inconsiderate and –"
"And your revenue increased because of them?" Opal asks, her voice innocent. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye from the other side of the room, where she's wiping down another table.
"That could very well have been coincidental." I shove sugar packets into a plastic container.
"There were quite a few people showing up here who had never been here before," Opal points out.
"Yeah, because they heard that we were incredibly rude here," I protest, exasperated.
"Or because it was interesting and different."
"It wasn't interesting and different. It was a gimmick."
"Seems like you shouldn't be refusing a gimmick that gets people in here."
"People in this town just love to be involved when there's anything that might be fodder for gossip. They came to rubberneck at the disaster."
"It was good publicity," Opal insists. "The Gazette was all over it. The piece they did wasn't unfavorable."
"It wasn't favorable either."
"It was publicity," Opal says. "For a few days, this place was the talk of the town."
"I don't want to be the talk of the town because I'm rude to my customers and have a hot guy working behind the counter. I want people to come here because they like the food and the coffee."
Opal turns toward me, wiping her hands on the front of her apron. "Regardless of whether you agree with his methods, his heart was in the right place."
I narrow my eyes at her. "Why are you taking up for Killian Saint?"