“What do you want to do, Dess?”
“Hmm, good question.” A light dreamy smile lights up her face. “I’ve thought about throwing in an application at the Seattle Aquarium for a volunteer position, but Dad would flip his shit.” She clams up. “Uh, sorry.”
I can’t help but smile. “Why there?”
“The otters are the cutest, Eliza. I love ocean mammals and all the other weird creatures. Have you seen the jellyfish? Heck, if he’d let me, I’d try SeaWorld. Perfect combination, being in SoCal out of the rain. But I guess this lab isn’t so bad. At least I’m actually doing stuff. Upstairs is naptime. It’s just staring at screens, clicking around, shuffling papers. I don’t even care how many zeros are behind those numbers. Ugh.”
She’s speaking my language. I can’t imagine corporate coffee office work being exciting for any high schooler. Though I wonder, why didn’t she shadow her mom?
“What does your mother do?” I ask absently, wiping down the counter.
When I look back, Destiny’s face sinks, and those bright-blue eyes seem dull.
My stomach flips over.
Oh, no.
Clearly, I’ve stepped on a landmine. I was just making conversation. I didn’t mean to upset her.
“Nobody told you?” Her voice comes out strained.
“No, but it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything if it’s too personal. I wasn’t trying to pry. I just wondered if she’d be a better person to shadow for this school thing...”
She hesitates, twining her fingers together.
“My mom died when I was five,” she whispers.
Oh, crap. There it is.
The answer I was dreading.
Without thinking, I step forward, pulling the girl into an instant hug.
“I’m so sorry, honey. I had no idea.” I release her. “Don’t tell him, but your dad’s kinda right. I have a big mouth sometimes. I never should’ve—”
“Eliza, chill. It’s okay,” she rushes out. “It was a long time ago. I’m not upset about it anymore. I barely remember, honestly... I guess I just kind of miss her sometimes. And the few good times I remember.”
“I bet you do,” I say firmly. “Part of you always will.”
Poor, poor kid.
Poor Grumpfather.
For the first time, I realize with some horror that my demon boss is a human being with heavy life experiences that have nothing to do with commodifying coffee and yelling at people.
He lost his wife ten years ago.
He raised this wonderful young girl alone.
Maybe that’s what made his heart a charred lump of coal, infinitely more scorched than his stupid drinks.
That gives me an idea for a terrible new name. He’s a lump of Cole now.
Lump.
But I’ll hold off on that one until he does something so awful I can’t feel sorry for him anymore.
Right now, my heart feels like lead.
I almost wish I’d never asked about Cole Lancaster’s life and gotten hit by the empathy bus.
Knowing there’s a good chance that life made a tyrant out of an otherwise pleasant family man kind of sucks the fun out of harassing him.
I mean, he’s had his battles. He may have owed Wayne a fat apology, but should I really keep adding to his woes?
I try to throw myself into cleaning—saving the janitorial staff some work—while Destiny taps at her phone. She gets up and grabs a broom on her own a little while later, sweeping around my feet, doing this awkward little dance while she hums a viral song I’ve heard on TikTok.
I’m lucky she wasn’t too stressed over my dumb questions. Or she bounces back on her feet lightning fast.
Once the chocolate finishes cooling and my timer dings, I start whipping up a fresh batch of marshmallow fluff.
“What’s next?” Destiny asks, emptying the dust pan in a bin nearby.
I grin at her. “You’ll find out soon. Start popping the crusts onto plates, assuming we have any we don’t have to beg the food team for.”
“On it!” She washes her hands and gets to work.
I transfer the marshmallow fluff to a bowl, grab a couple spoons, pull the chocolate from the fridge, and set everything up beside Destiny.
“Here, check this out. You tug on the wax paper and it comes up with a chocolate bar.” I pull one out and remove it from the paper. “Add a small line of marshmallow fluff and glue it to the graham cracker crust. Voilà! Your dad has his precious graham cracker to complete the S’mores Mocha.”
“Oh, cool! Can we try it?”
“Be my guest.” I gesture at the spread of cookies.
She’s still munching away on her third cookie when Mr. Lancaster comes to pick up his daughter a little while later.
He looks at Destiny with what seems like a tired glance. Or maybe it’s just my imagination now that I know he has good reasons for being world-weary.
“Dess, let’s go. I’ve still got a heap of work to catch up on at home and I have to make dinner.”
He makes dinner? No live-in chef?