hoodlums doused it. She had to pay them fifteen percent of the restaurant’s earnings. Anger burned through her at the thought of her no longer working for the business and her future, but rather working so two losers didn’t have to. I have to do something about this. Then she remembered Sheriff Windsor and his deputies were on top of it, and she relaxed.
“You’ve got to be pissed more often.” Adalyn joked. “We couldn’t sell them fast enough. It’s been like that all day.”
“If it keeps up through dinner, you may be able to get another display case soon,” Sarah noted.
Adalyn raised her brow. “Isn’t the insurance going to cover it?”
“Clumsiness isn’t covered.”
Before Adalyn could ask another question, Lena ducked into the back area and went to her office. Picking up the file Heath had dropped off, she took her purse out of the safe and walked back into the bistro.
“I’m heading out to the print shop to get some flyers done. Heath turned over the new branding he’s been working on for the past few months, and I want everything to be ready for the next holiday sale we put together. Are you guys going to be okay?” Lena asked as she took the flash drive out of the file and dropped it into her purse.
Adalyn smiled. “We’ll be fine. We have the meeting for the Offerman wedding later tonight too. Anything you need me to prep for that?”
Lena smiled back and shook her head. Thankfully, Adalyn was always on her game. Lena made a mental note to give her a promotion when everything finally wound down from the wedding season. Without a doubt, her star employee could manage it, and Lena had enough in the bank to facilitate a small pay raise for one of her hardest workers. Well, she would, so long as she didn’t have to pay off those thugs. Her body tensed at the memory and she rolled her shoulders, trying to shake it off.
“I’ll keep my phone on if you need me,” she informed her before walking out the door.
Hissing, she braced her hand over her eyes at the early afternoon sun. That was one thing she wasn’t used to much of anymore; she rarely came outside when there was sunlight. There was too much work to be done inside, and by the time everything was marked off her list, it was dark. Still, the short walk through town to the print shop wasn’t unwelcomed. As she strolled down San Juan Street, she made sure to pay attention to the buzz of the crowds, the pungent aromas from the lunch rush at the corner cafes, and the fronds of the palm trees swaying in the midday air.
After the realization that she was living life with her head down, coupled with the brush of danger the night before, she was trying to take more time to appreciate the little things, like being able to walk around the town square, enjoying the temperate wind twirling through her loose hair.
Lena stopped in front of the printing shop Mr. DeLuca—the owner of the ceramic store a few doors down from the bistro—had highly recommended.
A customer pushed past her with a murmured apology as he entered. A burst of cold air circulated around her feet, then quickly dissipated into the warmth of the summer day. For a split second, she dreaded going into the artificial light of the shop, but she couldn’t lollygag all afternoon. She had a ton of paperwork to finish back at the office, and then she had to meet with the Offermans.
An electronic buzz squawked loudly when she entered the shop, and she flinched. It was hardly as charming as her happy bell, but to each their own. Various computers, shelves of organized paper, and enormous printers behind the counter made her break out into a sweat. As embarrassed as she was to admit it, technology had never been her strong suit. When she thought about how much money she’d spent on computer courses, she cringed.
Lena lightly fingered the flash drive in her purse while she waited behind the customer who had bumped into her outside.
There was a teenage boy waiting on him, bumbling around a bit. He kept talking in small fits and starts, as if he was overwhelmed, and he whirled around in place, looking at the various computer monitors before frantically typing something into the laptop in front of him.
“I need some help here,” the teenager called out in a pleading voice,