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“Sorry?”

Gemma shook her head in disbelief, although it was clear from the way Kent continued he assumed she actually wanted more information.

“Do you know that you have several customers throughout the week who sit at tables for over an hour and a half ordering nothing more than two cups of tea?”

“Well… Yes, lots of them are our regulars.”

“One was there with his notepad, scribbling away, and Sophie seemed to spend more time talking to him than anybody else.”

“That’s Sophie’s boyfriend, Graham. He’s always come in and done his drawing in the cafe. It’s how the pair of them met. I won’t rush customers out if all they want is a drink.”

“It’s poor business sense. And we can get triple the number of covers through just by being more efficient with a few factors. Which takes me on to table spaces. Graham, for instance, was taking up a four-person table.”

“That’s in the darkest corner of the café, that people don’t like,” Gemma continued, “and I’m sorry, but Graham has a lot more than two cups of tea. He has lunch there at least three times a week.”

“Well, yes, I’ll get onto food and drink now, starting with your menu. It’s dated.”

Gemma felt her jaw hanging lower with every word that came out of Kent’s mouth.

“The menu reflects what the customers like,” she said.

“I believe what you mean is that it reflects what your older customers like. You’re missing out on a whole demographic just because you haven’t bothered to make a few updates. And there is an issue with your prices. I’m sorry, but they’re ridiculous.”

Gemma could feel her eyebrows raised so high they were likely lost in her hairline, but she couldn’t lower them.

“I’m sorry, ridiculous? How exactly?”

“When was the last time you raised them? It’s like going back into the eighties. Do you know the price of a cup of tea in Maldon? Do you know what that costs?”

“I’d guess about two pounds.”

“You’d guess? That’s part of the problem; you shouldn’t be guessing, you should know these things. This is your job. Youshould know exactly what your competitors charge and your prices should be in line.”

Gemma pressed her thumb into her temples, trying to lessen the throbbing headache she could feel starting. Her instinct was to lay it on him yet again, to tell him to mind his own business and not to worry about coming into work. She would find someone else to replace him. But it wasn’t that simple. Yes, she could manage a few days without a chef, but this was Oscar’s nephew, which made the whole matter a lot more difficult. She drew in a deep breath and tried to speak as reasonably as possible.

“Kent, I appreciate you are experienced in your field of the hospitality business,” she spoke her words carefully, making sure everything she said was entirely factual, “but you have never worked in an environment like this before. Am I correct in thinking that?”

“I don’t have to have worked in Maldon to know how a good café should run.”

“But have you ever worked in a café at all? I’m sorry, I get that you’re only trying to do what you think is best for your uncle’s business, but you’re the chef here. Your place is in the kitchen, making the food that I decide goes on the menu. That’s it.”

For a split second, silence surrounded them. Silence that caused her muscles to grow tense. She had said what had to be said, in a professional and reasonable manner. Yet why did it feel like she was missing something? A split second later, a strange sound erupted from Kent’s lips. It took Gemma a moment to realise it was a laugh.

An awkward and strange laugh that was more like a scoff than anything joyful.

“I’ve not come in here just to be the chef,” he paused. “I’m here to run the cafe.”

CHAPTER 16

Not once had Gemma heard Kent crack a joke. Maybe it was because she’d barely spoken to him, but even so, he hadn’t given the impression of someone who liked to play pranks, and at that moment, there was no hint of humour on his face.

“Sorry?” she said, unable to form a more elaborate response. “What are you on about? I am the manager. I’ve always been the manager.”

“I get the feeling that Uncle Oscar hasn’t told you as much about the situation as I thought he was going to.”

“Do you think?” Gemma knew her voice was rising, and it was such a small space that several pairs of eyes looked in her direction, but she still didn’t lower her tone. “What the hell do you mean?”

Kent reached down to his drink, although rather than picking it up, he simply held the glass.