Are you safe? That was the most important thing.
JoJo called and whispered over the phone, “Yeah, I’m okay, but she was getting on me about not doing enough to help around the house, so I think I better stay here and work. If I cut some firewood and clean the kitchen and do her laundry, I think she’ll leave me alone. If I leave for work, I’ll probably find my stuff on the front porch when I get home.”
“This is bullshit,” Val said quietly. “I know you pay rent.”
JoJo sighed. “She doesn’t see it that way.”
“We’ll find you a room somewhere soon. I promise.”
There was a long silence on the phone. “I’m all she has, Val.”
It was an impossible situation. JoJo was trying to be a good kid to a horrible parent. “At some point, honey, you’re going to have to take care of yourself first.”
“I know. Can Eve fill in today?”
“She has class.”
“I am so sorry.”
Val could hear the guilt in their voice. “Don’t worry about it. Lie low and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Call one of us if you need help. That is an order. I’ll figure something out.”
“Thanks, Val.”
She hung up and ran a fast brush over her hair before she knotted it behind her and tied on a bandanna.
No delivery.
No barista.
Val was going to have to serve double duty on the register and the coffee counter. Greeeeat. And she might need to send Ramon to the market for sad onions, which was going to piss him off.
The sun wasn’t even over the mountains, so Val was surprised to hear the quiet tap on her door. She grabbed her phone, pulled on her gloves and went to answer it. Jackson was leaning against the doorjamb, still in his flannel sleep pants and a T-shirt.
“Morning.” Val ruffled his bedhead. “What’s up?”
“I forgot to tell you that Andy has a permission slip he needs signed.” Jackson yawned and covered his mouth. “I put it on the table. Can you make sure you sign it?”
“Cool. What’s it for?”
He squinted. “Observatory, I think?”
“Fun.” Val sort of wished she could be the mom who went on the field trips—at least the cool ones—but that wasn’t in the cards. “I’m surprised he forgot about it.”
“He barely moved his nose out of that book last night. I don’t think he was thinking about anything other than that.”
“Right.” Val glanced at her phone and noticed she’d missed another call from Don. “Go back to sleep, honey. You boys want to come by Misfit for breakfast this morning?”
Jackson yawned again. “Dunno. I’ll ask Andy when he wakes up.”
“Good man,” Val whispered. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Her phone buzzed again. “Are you kidding me?” It was Rachel, Josh’s girlfriend. Unbelievable.
“You know,” Jackson said, “you don’t have to do everything on your own.”
“I know I don’t.” She walked out of her room, trying to scoot Jackson back toward his bed. “I have you.”
“I’m talking about work stuff. You have employees.”
Val sighed. “I know, but those employees have their own lives and I’m the boss. Unfortunately.”
“Just think about delegating more.” He turned and waved at her. “That’s all I’m saying. It’s not you against the world. And don’t forget the permission slip.”
Which she absolutely would have done. Probably. She detoured from her direct line to the front door and signed the school permission slip after a fast scan, all while trying not to think about the multiple texts someone was sending her, judging by the constant buzzing from the phone in her back pocket.
So help her, if Josh and Rachel were trying to increase his custody again…
All he had was every other weekend and he barely followed through on those visits, but if he got every weekend written into their custody agreement, then the money he had to pay for child support would decrease ever so slightly.
Jerk.
It left Val in the unenviable position of documenting every call and every visit the boys had with their father, just so she had evidence in court that she had full custody. It was maddening and draining and exactly what Josh probably wanted. He knew that eventually she’d forget something and she’d kick herself.
You know, you don’t have to do everything on your own.
Ha! It was a nice thought, but Jackson had no idea. No idea at all.
The boys did come into the restaurant, but only long enough to grab egg sandwiches before they sped off to school. Ramon was at the grill, Val was at the register and the coffee station, and Max was doing his best to keep the plates going in and out.
Unfortunately, because Val was pulling double duty, her customers at the counter were a little neglected. “Sorry, Dad.”
Vincent Costa waved a hand. “I’m fine. I got my coffee, and Philip here is keeping me company.”
Val glanced up and saw Robin’s dad sitting next to hers at the counter. “Hey, Mr. Lewis, how are you this morning?”
She didn’t catch his answer because the phone started ringing.
Don’t cry. There’s no crying in baseball. Or restaurants.
She picked it up. “Misfit Mountain Coffee Shop. We do not take orders or reservations over the phone.” Val found it best to start every phone call with disclaimers.
“It’s Monica. I was wondering if you’d had time—”
Val started to laugh hysterically. “I haven’t had time to pee since seven a.m. JoJo called in, so I’m short a barista and a server.”
“That sounds uncomfortable for everyone. Want me to come help?”
“Are you a barista?”
“No, but I can work a register and serve breakfast, smart-ass.”
Good enough.
Val snapped, “You’re hired. Be here an hour ago. I love you forever.” She hung up when another customer walked up to the register. “Hey, what can I get you?”
Monica walked in fifteen minutes later.
“You’re my best friend,” Val shouted across the restaurant. “Robin lost her title.”
“I thought we were both your best friends.”
“Yeah, but she made me brownies last week, so she’d pulled ahead slightly.”
“Brownies?” Monica stashed her purse under the counter. “You’re a cheap date. Apron?”
Val ducked down and grabbed one, tossed it to Monica, and pointed to the counter. “These two plates are for Jeanie and her friend.” She pointed to the two women at the end of the short counter. “You’re on the register and taking care of the counter. You know how to use this kind of register?”
“Same one Robin has.” Monica tied on the apron and walked behind the digital register, shoving Val to the side. “Go. Make coffee and write snarky comments on cups. I got this. Hi, Ramon!”
“Hey, Monica. You hungry?”
“Not yet, but I expect onion rings for lunch.”
“I’ll be happy to make some when I get some damn onions.”
“I can’t help that Don still isn’t here,” Val snapped. “I told you to go to the market!”