help. I couldn't blame her for that, so maybe I could "donate" one to the shop. If I made the old one disappear before she caught me, she would have no choice but to accept it. I grinned to myself. That might actually work.
Cam and I spent the rest of the morning going over the books and, after a couple of intense hours of analysis, I announced that the shop could indeed afford an assistant manager.
The relief on Cam's face told me that I had made the right decision to talk to her about hiring someone to help at the shop. It also made me realize that I'd been neglecting her update emails for a while now. I wondered how long ago she'd first mentioned it and felt a sharp stab of guilt. She'd sent them every quarter like clockwork since I invested but after the first few years, I figured she knew what she was doing and didn't need me to look over her shoulder. It seemed I needed to catch up on those soon.
That was one of the main reasons I'd said I wanted to learn the day-to-day operations and some of the ice cream recipes. Not the only reason, but the main one. I'd realized that I could spend more time with Cam if I helped out at the store while I was here. Then again, I hadn't made ice cream with her yet. Considering my lack of skill in the kitchen, it could turn out to be a shitshow.
Then there was the fact that even if we hired someone immediately and started training them, it would be weeks before they were up to speed. That meant all the responsibility would fall on Cam's shoulders anyway.
I finally pushed back from the desk and turned to Cam.
"We should put a want ad in the local paper and online," I said.
She laughed and shook her head. "Give me five minutes."
Still grinning at me, she picked up her cell phone and scrolled through it. She finally selected a name and lifted it to her ear. Then she said, ""Hi, Mrs. Phelps. It's Cameron McClane. How are you today?"
Oh, my God. It was the infamous Mrs. Phelps who thought that I was Cam's girlfriend in a romantic sense rather than a platonic one. I had to meet this woman. She sounded like a character. There was also the fact that she shared a trait with me—she said what she was thinking without a filter. It wasn't always the most fortunate characteristic and sometimes my words came out wrong, but I always enjoyed meeting other people with that quirk. It reminded me that I wasn't the only awkward and accidentally offensive person on the planet. Verbal diarrhea was a real problem for a certain percentage of the population and it was nice to know I wasn't alone.
I listened to Cam's conversation with Mrs. Phelps with half an ear as I swung back and forth in her swiveling office chair.
Cam finally hung up and looked at me. "Apparently, the girl...er, woman that Mrs. Phelps recommended is someone I knew when I was younger. I thought she was a lot younger than me but it seems I was wrong. She's nearly twenty-five."
My curiosity was piqued. Cam had a great memory for people. "What do you remember about her?" I asked.
"She's quiet and sweet. The youngest of five kids and the only girl. The best I can recall, she never got into trouble. I didn't even know she was back in town."
"Then we should definitely call her. If she isn't fodder for gossip then she must still be quiet and sweet."
"I'll call my mom and get her number." After a short pause, Cam continued, "Do you want to put an ad out online, just in case? I mean, what if she turns out to be a closet psycho?"
"Then she'll fit right in with us," I quipped.
"Ha, ha, you're hilarious."
"I know, right?"
"Okay, enough. It's time to make ice cream and clean. If you actually help instead of sitting around and looking pretty, we might get out of here in time to pick up a pizza and go home for that movie night you've been wanting to have."
"You say that like I didn't just go through a year's worth of financials for the shop in one morning!" I said, my tone defensive.
Cam laughed and rose to her feet. "Okay, so you've earned your keep for this week. Now it's time to work off next week's."