And before I could argue, Mack clapped his hands. “Perfect.”
I sighed, knowing that I wouldn’t win this one.
“Your dad can’t make it?” Darby asked as he took a sip of his beer.
I shook my head as I said, “He has a meeting with his doctor to discuss his hands. He is considering doing alternative measures.”
Darby winced. “That sucks.”
It did.
I took a sip of my beer as I thought about what that meant for my dad.
“If he can’t write or type on the computer, he might have to close down his business.” I paused. “Unless I help him.”
“You can’t?” Codie, Ace’s woman, asked.
I paused.
“I can,” I admitted. “It just means that I would have to take on less responsibility at the coffee shop. And that means that I let Desi down.”
“Or y’all could hire someone to help,” Callum suggested as he took a sip of his own beer. “You never thought that it would go as big as it did. I don’t think either one of you expected to work as many hours as you have been, either. I think I remember that y’all discussed only having it open until about four pm, but now y’all are leaving it open until the customers leave, which sometimes is around eight. And Desi was up there making more pastries today because y’all ran out.”
I nodded. “I can’t really kick them out, though.”
“You could put in outside seating so that they don’t have to leave, but they also don’t stay inside,” Banks suggested. “And you could also close when you no longer have food to sell.”
That was true.
“Yes,” I said. “But there are some customers that can’t get there that early and still want coffee. Being open later gives them the option to get there.”
“Yeah,” Banks agreed. “Or you could open up an online store. Your sales are equally divided between bulk coffee and actual cups of coffee. That way they can order it and not add to the body count at the retail location.”
I sighed.
Did he have an answer to everything?
“Sometimes we sell out by twelve,” Desi said. “What then?”
“Then you can either sell coffee without the pastries, or you can close at twelve,” Banks said.
He had a point.
Coffee didn’t sell all that well after about mid-morning, I’d noticed. Was there a point in keeping it open when the pastries were the only thing that would sell after that point?
“Or,” Banks continued. “You could keep it open from six until ten. Customers could still sit on the patio and enjoy their coffee even between your closed hours. Then open it back up from six in the evening to ten. Or four to eight. Whatever. That gives you eight hours a day, just like you’re already doing. And two time windows. And, you can have someone that comes in just to close. If there happens to be pastries, good. If there isn’t, oh well.”
That was actually a very good suggestion.
“The in-between hours would give you a lot of hours of uninterrupted time to get your cakes done on a special order basis only,” I said to Desi. “And that also gives the high schoolers and college-age kids time to get out of school and come by. Also, that means Kasey could close.”
Darby choked, and I looked at him in surprise.
“You don’t like Kasey?” I teased.
Darby and Kasey did not get along.
Not at all.
I didn’t know why, because neither one of them were willing to tell me—even when I asked—but eventually I’d figure it out.
For now, I’d just make up worst-case scenarios in my head.
“No,” Darby said, finality in his tone.
“I sense a story,” Mack murmured, his eyes going from between me and Darby.
“Speaking of story,” Amity said, surprising the shit out of me that she would be willing to draw attention to herself. “Did you hear that Mack might be winning a prize with his bull riding piece on Banks?”
My mouth fell open and I looked at Mack.
“And you didn’t tell me?” I gasped.
Mack shrugged. “I don’t know if I won yet or not.”
“The rodeo circuit I’m on ran it,” Banks said. “I showed them the piece. Made them look good, so they were all for it.”
“Why’d you show them the piece?” I wondered.
“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged.
“Because it said something about you,” Ace corrected him. “It said, and I quote, ‘even the most diehard of non-fans enjoyed themselves. From the young to the old, and even the most cynical, will enjoy their time as long as Banks Valentine is there.’” Ace paused. “Or something like that.” His eyes came to me. “Your photo was in the paper as well. You can see your hands covering your face.”
I grimaced and looked at Mack accusingly.
“You took a picture of me and put me in the paper?” I gasped. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
“You’ve signed like a hundred thousand photo releases in your time,” he shrugged. “Why would I think this one would be any different?”