Page 14 of Welcome to Ero-TEA-Ca: We’re Open!

Cassandra

C ass had hoped the morning would be a new start, maybe a break from the string of shitty circumstances which had befallen her recently.

Yesterday had been a doozy, completely embarrassing herself in front of Kendal with her word vomit about Harriet being a seductress, her mother turning up, and then her worlds colliding spectacularly while the entire café listened in as Mother Dearest yapped on about doggy-style drawings on a sodding teapot.

She’d gone through an agonising dinner with Lolita and Kendal.

All she’d wanted to do was stay hidden away in her house, but that wasn’t a remote possibility when her mum was in town.

After dinner, they’d all gone back to Cass’s place, watched crap telly, and gone to bed.

It was fine. In fact, it was the best way to end the terrible day; however, because Cass had clearly pissed off the gods or something, she had to listen to the distinct buzzing emanating from the spare room. Her mother was utterly shameless.

So here she was, preparing the café for opening, praying to anyone or anything listening to grant her a day of reprieve, when the oven in their tiny kitchen started making a weird noise.

Sean, the maintenance worker, had assured Kendal he’d fixed the blasted thing, but clearly not.

It was making such a racket, Cass was reluctant to put anything in to bake.

The way her life was shaping up, the bloomin’ thing would set fire, or something equally hazardous.

Snatching her mobile off the counter, Cass jabbed the screen until she found Sean’s number. He was about to get an earful. Fixed, my arse!

“Cass, what can I do for you at this very early hour,” Sean practically yawned through the phone. Instead of speaking, Cass held the phone close to the oven. After several moments, she retreated back to the café.

“That’s our supposedly fixed oven, Sean.”

“It was fixed, Cass.”

“Well, it’s not anymore. I can’t bake in it while it’s making that noise. God knows what will happen.”

“Alright, I’ll come in. Give me an hour.”

“Fine.” Cass jabbed the screen again, ending the call.

Now what was she supposed to do? Her loyal customers expected their Danishes freshly cooked.

As she was mulling over her predicament, a wave of gold hair zipped past the window.

Harriet. Harriet, who had an oven. Harriet, who had witnessed her mortification yesterday.

Actually, Harriet, who was the cause of it. Again.

Cass was still ticked off Harriet had brought the teapot into the café. Why couldn’t she have waited until the end of the day? Even better, why couldn’t she have found Kendal’s address and given her the sodding thing at home, far away from Cass and the café?

Torn between staying mad and forgoing Danishes for the day or putting on a smile and heading over to the tea shop, Cass flexed her hands, which curled into furious little balls.

Unable to disappoint her customers, Cass snagged the tray of uncooked pastries and slipped out the back door. Harriet’s rear entrance was only a few feet away, but it felt like Cass had to bridge more than that to get over the discomfort wriggling in her belly.

Clearing her throat and donning her very best professional face, she rapped on the door three times, waited for three seconds, and repeated.

Banging sounds reverberated through the steel door, followed by some profanities.

Eventually it swung open, and a dishevelled-looking Harriet stood there half irritated, half pleased.

“May I use your oven?”

“You know, I didn’t even realise there was a door here.

We’ve only ever used the front entrance, so thanks for that.

Although, the mountain of stock I just had to shift puts me well over my weekly exercise quota.

I should thank you for that too, I guess.

Now I can have a second Danish, which I’m guessing are what’s on that tray you’re holding. ”

Ignoring the fact she found Harriet’s long-winded sentences cute, Cass simply nodded. “Indeed. The oven’s on the fritz. I daren’t use it until Sean has inspected it.”

Smiling brightly, Harriet beckoned Cass inside with a flourish and a small bow. “My oven is at your disposal.”

The Danishes were cooking well, and Cass was running out of reasons to look through the oven door. She either did that or entertained a conversation with Harriet, and she’d rather drink Starbucks swill than look at the woman right now.

Harriet had tried to make polite conversation but eventually begged off to do something elsewhere. Now Cass was sweating in the heat of the tiny kitchen area, wondering if she could slip back to the café and come back when the food was ready.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Harriet’s chirpy voice sliced through Cass’s latest mind meltdown.

Wiping the sweat off her forehead as discreetly as humanly possible, she shook her head. “No thanks. These will be done shortly and I need to get back. Sean will be over soon, and I guess Kendal will start wondering where I am.”

“No worries.” Harriet was smiling again, and Cass didn’t know where to put her eyes.

The young woman was so effortlessly lovely, and it was becoming harder for Cass to ignore it.

She internally scoffed. She hadn’t ignored anything .

Cass knew full well she’d entertained one too many thoughts about Harriet.

Not all pleasant, because she was, after all, opening this damn shop.

But mostly they were nice—some even risqué.

A few dreams may have occurred that left Cass a little breathless in the morning light.

The second the oven bell rang, Cass let out a sigh of pure relief. Harriet cocked her eyebrow but remained silently watching from the doorway. Feeling like her skin was itching from Harriet’s gaze, Cass bundled the hot pastries onto a serving dish she’d had the foresight to bring along.

“Thank you for this.”

“Anytime,” Harriet replied. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Cass bypassed the remark, sending a tight-lipped smile back, and then slipped out of the kitchen. The morning air was a welcome balm to her now clammy skin.

Kendal was in the kitchen with Sean. “There you are!”

“Harriet was kind enough to let me use her oven. We have pastries.”

Kendal sidled over and leaned her body into Cass’s side. “Harriet, huh?”

Clenching her jaw, Cass did her level best not to take the bait. She should have known Kendal wouldn’t let yesterday’s slip-up go.

“Well, I didn’t think Doris in the haberdashery would have an oven, so yes—Harriet.”

“And how is our delightful neighbour?”

Don’t bite, Cass.

“Working, I presume. I was a little too busy cooking to pay attention.”

Kendal shot a look over her shoulder to Sean, who was bent over inspecting the oven and had his butt crack showing. “She didn’t try and seduce you, did she?”

The humour in Kendal’s voice grated, but Cass was stronger. She wouldn’t entertain another second of her ex-wife’s mocking.

“I’ll put these in the display and open up. I presume my mother will be here soon. Would you mind if I took a half day? I’d rather take her shopping than have her here all day.”

Sensing Kendal was about to delve into something Cass had no time for, she pushed through the door and began her routine in the café.

There were several locals already milling about outside, looking grumpy due to caffeine deprivation.

That suited Cass just fine. Maybe her day could be salvaged after all.

Flopping on the sofa, Cass growled out loud. It was a cathartic growl, a cleansing growl after an afternoon spent with Lolita. It saddened Cass a little that her mother didn’t know her at all. Or maybe she did, and simply didn’t like the person Cass was: too quiet, too ornery, too introverted.

No matter what Cass did or said, Lolita followed her own path, regardless of how it made Cass feel. At least their visits were only a few times a year. That was the only saving grace. Surely Lolita would be packing her bags again soon, off on a cruise or something similar, to sow a few more seeds.

At least she had the rest of the evening to herself.

That was one advantage of Lolita’s sex drive.

She soon homed in on the closest single male and that was that.

Cass would unfortunately hear all about it tomorrow, no doubt.

But, for tonight, she could have a nice hot soak, stick a microwave meal in, and then watch telly.

She might even find the time to write another letter to the council.

This one would outline Cass’s irritation with the local busker who insisted on playing nothing but Ed Sheeran songs.

If she had to listen to one more rendition of “Perfect” she was going to drown herself in the discarded coffee grounds.

The man couldn’t possibly think he was going to become a successful musical sensation that way.

The only thing he was succeeding at was playing on Cass’s last nerve.

Gordon wholeheartedly agreed, so Kendal couldn’t tell Cass she was being difficult.

With a smile on her face at the prospect of her evening being nothing short of perfect, Cass’s eyebrows furrowed the second her doorbell chimed.

If the person disrupting her night was anyone but an official from the Lottery informing her she’d won a gazillion pounds, Cass was going to unleash hell. Nothing would ruin her night.

Stomping to the front door, Cass ripped it open. Instead of a tirade, she fell mute. Harriet stood there in a cute, flowing dress, her hair pinned up in a high ponytail.

“Can I come in?”

“No, you cannot come in,” Cass wanted to shout. Instead, she stood aside and opened the door further. Harriet brushed past her, smelling like a summer breeze…again.