Chapter 2
I was scrubbing the tables clean the next time Ward Meachum came in. The downside of the all-white decor was that it required constant cleaning, but I didn't mind the extra work since it was something to keep my hands busy with. Jeff was at the counter, scooping ice cream into huge balls for a couple of kids. Their mother watched in quiet disbelief as he shuffled the colorful orbs on top of small waffle cones. I could see that she fully expected things to end up in a disaster as soon as the children had the cones in their hands. The size of our ice cream balls was something we were somewhat famous for, at least in our neighborhood.
For the first time ever, Mr. Meachum headed towards one of the small round tables near the window. I drew out my worn-out notebook from the apron (light green, same color as the curtains and table cloths) pocket and headed towards him, wondering if he was planning on meeting someone. Perhaps there was someone in his life he wanted to keep secret from all the paparazzi (I'd seen plenty of pictures of him and his ever changing, always gorgeous arm candy attending high society events), and thought our café was inconspicuous enough for a secret rendezvous. That would be interesting. But when I greeted him and inquired if he wanted to wait before ordering, he declined.
”The usual then?”
He nodded and then looked at me, contemplating.
”You really are always here, aren't you? Is this normal in your line of work?” I stared at him, puzzled. In my line of work? I could feel a bit of a naughty impulse surfacing in the back of my mind. The fidgety mother was herding her children out the door, obviously determined not to let the ice cream hazard happen inside.
”What I mean is, is your manager treating you ok? Do you even get sick days?” He was lowering his voice as he threw a side glance at Jeff. I had to wonder what on earth had caused this sudden awakening of social consciousness and attention to my well-being. Could it be that the return of his ”presumed dead” childhood friend had rattled his awareness of how ordinary people lived their lives? Yes, of course I'd read everything there was to read about the Meachum family, since not THAT many prominent figures visited our café on regular basis.
He was still looking at me, apparently a bit unnerved by my lack of response.
”I'm ok. Thanks. And actually, the manager happens to be here right now, just a second!” And off I went in search of my boss, at the same time thinking that this whim of mine might not be the most sensible thing to do right now.
I called Mr. Meachum's order out to Jeff and disappeared into the back room.
---
Ward felt a prickling irritation rise as he sat there, speechless. He did not need to see the manager, neither had he asked to. He had enough problems on his own, and he didn't need to take on the problems of a coffee shop waiter. Even with the amazing smile. He tightened his lips and sucked some air between his teeth. He should have taken the coffee to go just like always, and not sit here to be preyed upon, however much he wanted to show his father that he could. Ward considered leaving (preferably as soon as possible) when he heard someone clearing their throat behind him.
”Lumi Miller, the owner, and the manager. Nice to meet you. I believe you asked to see me? Something about the working hours of our employees?”
The coffee cup (black, no sugar) appeared in front of him, hot and steaming, and then an outstretched hand waiting for a handshake. The hand belonged to the waiter that had just left, only now sans the apron. Ward could see a mischevious sparkle in the soulful pair of eyes that quite obviously challenged him to play along. He couldn't help but feel a one-sided grin starting to form. Although, he had to scold himself for his archaic preconception of the man sitting at the cashier being the manager. Wasn't his own sister the most business savvy person (excluding his father) he knew? While at the same time he himself, who everyone considered the financial genius of the decade, was a fraud and a mere puppet? Who was he to have any prejudice against anything? It occurred to him that he did not have his pills with him.
He coerced the emerging murky thoughts, which kept constantly coaxing and whispering and trying to rob him of anything good and pure, into the cellar of his mind.
He rose, put on the 'business casual Ward' -face, shook hands, introduced himself (Ward Meachum, but please do call me Ward) and gestured towards the seat in front of him. He was delighted to notice that Lumi's grip was firm and confident and yes, he already felt comfortable enough to call her by her first name. At least in his mind.
”Please, have a seat, Ms. Miller. Yes, I was worried that you might overwork your employees, but now I see I might have misjudged the situation here.”
He watched as she perched herself on the edge of the seat, as if ready to dash off at any time, and tensely crossed her fingers over the table. She continued to stare at him, evidently amused. Ward was intrigued by the new information but at the same time felt a bit worried that the confusion had made him seem shallow. But would he have really wanted her to sit at this table if she hadn't been the owner? He had come here today to have a temporary respite from all the craziness of the outside world, not to make friends. Then again, was the peace and quiet really the only reason why he had wanted, for the first time, to sit down and spend some time here?
”Ms. Miller, I... I somehow made myself believe that he was the manager,” Ward nodded towards the gray-haired man sitting at the counter. ”I apologize.”
”Please call me Lumi. And there's no need to apologize. Jeff here is a lifesaver. He is retired, but helps here a few hours a day, and on those rare occasions when I absolutely cannot work.” She noticed Jeff hearing his name mentioned and shouted at him ”I just told him you are a sweetheart and I couldn't do this without you!”
Jeff blushed lightly, grunted and swayed his hand dismissively, but did it all with a smirk on his wrinkled face. Ward was a bit surprised to notice that he was actually touched by the warmheartedness of the exchange. He was more used to the matter-of-fact and clinical conversations that went on in the corporate life. He tried to think of something witty to say. His mind was buzzing and unable to form a coherent sentence.
”So... your name. It's very unusual. Is there a story to it?”
Lumi leaned back in her chair, obviously more relaxed. Her name was Finnish and meant quite simply 'snow'. Her Finnish mother and American father had met in Finland (he had been an expatriate and had had a contract to work there for 2 years) and fell in love. They had married, Lumi was born and they had lived happily (more or less) for a few years until the marriage had fallen apart and her father had moved back to the United States. She had decided to follow her father when she was 25. Lumi had worked at her father's IT company as a secretary and acquired a citizenship. She had never been very fond of her job, but it had paid the bills. A few years ago her father had died and left her enough capital to buy the property for the café (he had sold the company as soon as he had found out about the illness) and get started on her dream.
Ward felt a little breathless and light-headed. She had followed her dreams. She was living the dream. She had managed to do what must have seemed impossible at some point. Ward started to hope that maybe, someday, he might have a chance too.
Ward's phone beeped for attention. 'Stein, Frank N.' pulsated on the screen. The light-headedness vanished as if it had never been and was replaced with resignation.
---
I felt a little out of breath after disclosing my personal history so openly. I hadn't been planning to, but I had been a bit nervous and the words had just kept coming. It was too much information given to a practical stranger, as I came to notice when Ward's phone rang, and he couldn't have grabbed it faster. Good job Lumi, good job.
Wards lips were in a tight line and his demeanor shifted back to the unreadable, businesslike behavior. He started to get up. I felt I had to apologize for something.
”I'm sorry for tricking you earlier... and for the info dump.”
”It's perfectly fine, I really needed the distraction,” he muttered like it was hard for him to talk, but I knew he was obviously just beeing very polite. He started to dig out his wallet from the inside pocket of his perfectly tailored suit when I stopped him.
”This one is on the house since you had to sit there and listen to my life story.”
He froze for a moment, then looked at me with a sad smile. I was furious with myself for inflicting this kind of feeling to a customer with my stupid stories. I wished I had kept my mouth shut.
”I need to do that more often then,” he replied, the perfect gentleman.
”Please do, ” I murmured as I watched his ramrod straight back disappear into the crowded street, wishing this would not be the last time I saw him.