In Charge, page 3
Joanne would take insult to this woman’s assumptions if she wasn’t grateful for an opportunity to boast. She kept humble on most occasions, but at times like these? Oh boy, did she love naming her achievements. It’s simply appropriate. She needs to be informed. “How could I when I already own three branches of this same coffee shop in the next town over?” she batted her lashes with sass. “Thanks for the advice, ma’am, but I’m really not as new to this as you think. I started out quite young and kept going from there,” she grinned widely with her signature winner’s smile.
With wide eyes, the lady laughed before apologizing. “Well, you must have started pretty darn young then,” she gave an impressed nod with pursed lips and crinkled brows, saying ‘mmm.’ “I love to see it.” With that, she went inside. “Now, let’s get your place looking good, shall we?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Joanne stepped in behind her, her own boot crumpling plastic when she did.
CHAPTER FOUR
Xavier killed his car engine on Market Avenue that cloudy Monday morning. He’d have to cross the road after getting out since his destination lay on the opposite side of his parking spot. He’d had eyes on it for weeks. During its renovations, paint job, and furnishing, he’d acted as its secret overseer. But its owner didn’t even know he existed. At least, not yet.
He got out and waited on the sidewalk. People with umbrellas walked back and forth around him. Some on phones, others bustling, most unaware of his presence. He tried dressing down to not draw attention. He wanted to be seen but not by any locals. Today, her opinion mattered above everything. It was the only way he’d get in there. Inside her world, where he could assist. She seemed completely capable of running a business, but Peachwood wasn’t Sweetgum. He knew the place and its people so possessed insight on how to win them over.
A slow-moving bus rolled from up-street as he crossed. The man checked his time while strolling along the other sidewalk, then paused. “Roasted Beans Coffee Spot. Savor the perfection,” the circular sign in black and white contained a cup of coffee with both phrases arched around it. ‘Roasted Beans Coffee Spot’ took the top while ‘Savor the Perfection’ curved the bottom. He liked it and had actually been present when she first put it up. Joanne behaved just like he’d predicted. Everything from which place her sign went had to be perfect. While parked four cars down from the building, Xavier had overheard her calling dimensions. Something about three feet from ground level and some inches for something else. While her carpenters hung the sign, she didn’t hesitate to remind where exactly it should go. He loved how particular she was about something so minor, but wondered just how receptive she’d be to outside suggestions with that attitude.
He pushed open the door to enter, and a mind-numbing warmth enveloped his body. Looks just like the others. He spent some time digesting the décor, then found something distinct. I stand corrected. He went to the wall-lining the booths, then smiled. Small paintings of coffee mugs and steam were near every table. Come to think of it, new coffee stickers lined the windows, too. Xavier backed up and admired them. This wasn’t like her Sweetgum branch at all. Just a couple of additions doesn’t mean it’s all that different. Everything else matched perfectly. From the color scheme to its heavenly aroma. Only that there’s no one upfront right now. The sign read ‘CLOSED,’ but a ‘HELP WANTED’ sign hung over it.
Xavier dinged the silver bell up front before waiting. I would have done a few things differently. He liked her business card promotion strategy, but while she did get a few heads turning, with them came skepticism. Confirmation that the new coffee place wasn’t locally owned bred doubts across town. Xavier had overheard quite a few discussions at meetings. Questions as to who Joanne was and whether she was stealing opportunities from residents took off like jets in the atmosphere. Civilians were hesitant to trust Joanne and her business, just like he’d predicted. Peachwood Grovers were… territorial by nature, but for good reason.
In the past, some bigshot company nearly opened a factory in town but ultimately failed when Xavier bought it out. Not a soul had agreed to having toxic fumes pollute their sweet home. To this day, his fellow Grovers still commended him for using his wealth to protect them. Now, that old factory was a school. The second one in town. One could argue that Peachwood residents were traumatized from that last invasion, but Joanne obviously had better intentions than greedy businessmen. Because she’s not that. She’s a greedy businesswoman! He chuckled at his own joke. She’s not greedy.
If placed in Joanne’s position as an outside business, Xavier would have gotten acquainted with other small business owners for their seal of approval. Sally’s Salon and Michael’s Eatery were nearby. Joanne would have better luck here if well-known local businesses could vouch for her. Peachwood trusted Peachwood and Peachwood alone. Sure, Mr. Jones spoke well of her whenever she came up, but that was one word against hundreds of skeptics. Xavier told a few friends he’d liked her coffee, but not even that swayed them. One or two curious cats might visit for a cup, but a few customers weren’t enough for good business.
The back door creaked open. “Sorry for the wait,” a woman in an apron and jeans met him up front. With hands spread across the counter, she snapped her fingers. “You’re here for the interview,” she said, as if enlightened.
Xavier for once had no words. Until now, he’d only seen her from afar.
Joanne’s round-shaped brown eyes blinked confusedly. Her even complexion and rich dark skin tone radiated the bright colored lights on this dingy gray morning. She wore a black cap with her business name in white letters. From it came braided pigtails stretching just a little beyond her shoulders. Small hoop earrings hung from her ears. Gold hoops that matched a thin necklace hanging over her black rounded collar. “Sir? Did you come for the interview?” she asked slower.
Xavier caught himself at last. “Yes. Good morning. My name is Xavier Evans. It’s an honor to stand before you in this wonderful establishment.”
“Okay then,” she seemed impressed. While she shook his hand, he noted the tenderness of hers. It felt… small in his grasp. Small yet sure, firm. He slipped his away when they finished shaking. No nail polish painted her shortly cut nails. “Follow me to the back.”
Comfy, he rested himself in one out of two soft-cushioned chairs in her office. They’d gone through the bakery before coming here. Another door nearby led to what he presumed was the manager’s office. His future office if he played his cards right this afternoon.
Joanne clasped her hands behind her name template. “So, Mr. Evans, I took a look at your application form. Your cover letter, especially, seemed quite convincing. You sound ready to die for Roasted Beans if it means getting its name out there.” She rolled her chair forward. A few unpacked boxes lay around the room. Behind her was a window displaying the view outside. Just an empty alley and chain-link fence. Nothing particularly breathtaking.
He thought about the words written on his cover letter. He promised booming sales with skills he’d learned through prior managerial roles. He’d managed a skate park after college, but just for three years. His career as an investor kicked off quite soon following that. Even in college, Xavier had begun saving toward his now successful business. “That’s because I am,” he said smoothly. “I’ve already started plans on how to do just that,” he plucked a folded page from his pocket. “Here. I think you’ll find my ideas worth considering.”
Joanne arched an eyebrow before stopping him. “Hold up,” she reclined while holding the arms of her chair. “You haven’t gotten the job yet, sir. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we can talk plans after you receive a position at my business. Am I clear?”
He should have expected this response. “Crystal,” he placed his suggestions back where he’d taken them. “I suppose that’s enough proof of how eager I am for this position. I’ve heard talk around town about your place,” he tapped his thumbs. “People like the design, but I’ve heard a few doubtful remarks here and there. I guess I just really don’t want such an amazing café to be overlooked. Plus, it helps that I’m a big fan of coffee,” he said, hoping he wasn’t laying it on too thick.
To that, she frowned, sitting upright. “Well, it won’t be overlooked, so you have nothing to worry about.” She placed her hands on her desk. “Your application also mentioned past management experience at a local skate park. A job you had for three years, I believe?” she brought it up like an issue. “Can you tell me what you’ve been doing between then and now?”
Xavier preferred hiding his true profession as long as possible. “I believe I did clarify that I’ve worked remotely since then,” not completely wrong. He did oversee some companies for friends out of state. Never for long, of course. They mainly contacted him to oversee and manage fresh businesses. He’d depart from affairs once the company found its footing. “I mentioned a few overseas establishments.”
“Yes, but you’ve only managed them for short time periods. One for six months, this real estate company in Dubai for five—Dubai?” Joanne blinked several times. She zoomed in on her phone screen.
“Ha ha ha,” Xavier shifted in place. “And now you can surely understand why I don’t stick around long at these establishments. They’ve paid me well. The owners only got in touch for my close inspection, anyway. Sort of to hear my advice as they navigated difficult times.” He watched how her face morphed from surprised to suspicious.
Joanne put the phone down. “So, you think I need your advice,” her expression said she wasn’t pleased.
He maintained his cool. “Look, the people I’ve worked for in the past were just friends of mine who thought my knowledge would be useful in achieving their business goals. I’m by no means an expert who thinks he can take over, but I think that if we work together, Roasted Beans Coffee Spot can have quite the positive impact on Peachwood.” He crossed his legs confidently, smiling though she scowled.
It took a while, but Joanne’s face softened. By no means was she grinning, but she seemed less pressed. “Well, all right then,” she took a deep breath. “If I were to hire you, what are a few things you’d do to ensure the smooth run of my café?” she seemed to dismiss their prior topic.
Xavier prayed she really had. He didn’t need her suspecting his true intentions here. I’ve given away too much. What if she dug into his resume and found out that the companies he’d managed belonged to investors? It wouldn’t take much to trace back to him. He wasn’t sure how she’d react to the truth, but so far, she struck him as someone who detested lying. Technically, he hadn’t told a lie yet, but withholding details could count as such. “I’d first of all deliver free coffee and pastries to business owners nearby. To gain their support. I think getting employees to stand outside with samples might help as well and, oh, perhaps setting up vending stands at local events might be a great idea to draw people in. I’ve lived in Peachwood my whole life. I know a thing or two about its people. They like community and warmth. If we extend a hand, they’ll take it, and before you know it, business will boom.” He took note of her blandness throughout his explanation. Joanne Richards sure is tough. He might have started things on the wrong foot, too.
Joanne’s brows creased in what Xavier read as consideration. She snapped her fingers. “I like the free samples idea, but everything else sounds desperate.”
Wow. Xavier blew a puff of air from his mouth. “Trust me,” he said with conviction. “If we take that approach, results will come before you know it. Peachwood is a tough town for aliens. Especially—”
“Aliens?” Joanne interjected. “Why that term? And you didn’t answer my question. I asked how you’d ensure the smooth run of my café. Not how to get business.” She drummed her fingers on her desk.
Xavier didn’t flinch. “I was getting to that. And about the ‘alien’ comment. It’s well known you’re not from town, Ms. Richards. I didn’t mean it offensively.”
Joanne waved a hand in dismissal. “Okay, fine. Now tell me your plan,” she sat back with crossed arms.
“Gladly.” He was more than happy to share.
CHAPTER FIVE
With the opening three weeks away, Joanne’s main focus was preparing her staff for the big day. She’d already settled issues with supply orders, stocks, and purchases, so she could now show her handpicked employees how to operate their tools. They’d not only need to handle coffee makers but also cash registers and yogurt machines. Stressing the importance of team work took first place on her list. All of these were essential for work to run well.
“And remember, don’t mix that up with the croissants, although they look similar. If you look closely, they have a different tone from one another,” she spoke behind the counter after lunch a week later. She intended for training to last seven days. They’d already knocked four days out of seven off their calendar. Her teenage workers carried a special zeal. These kids were fresh out of high school and looking to make ends meet at college. They asked many relevant questions during sessions, which Joanne appreciated.
“Okay, and what about the two tarts? Because the strawberry and cherry tarts are the same color,” someone pointed out with their hand raised. Joanne had put out samples from their menu. They covered the counter in boxes.
Joanne nodded. “There’ll be blue food coloring on the bottom of the cherry tarts,” she used tongs to lift one. “See?” the staff droned a collective ‘oh,’ then took notes. Only one boy seemed unprepared in that regard. He’d always ask someone for paper when the note-taking started. He also spent most of their sessions leaning by the coffee makers. Staying in the back seemed to be his preference. Whatever, Joanne would judge him based on his performance, not his behavior, throughout training. She’d dealt with enough employees to know that nonchalant workers sometimes worked best. They absorbed information like sponges and put their colleagues at ease in high-stress conditions. But not everyone’s the same. “Okay, so we went over everything on the menu. You guys know how to make both espresso and classic coffee, so… let’s take questions then call it a day for training. I know some of you have classes,” one hand shot up from the back. “Oh.” Her good attitude plummeted the second she saw him. I was starting to wonder why he’d been quiet all day.
With great effort, Joanne buried her distaste under politeness. “Yes, Xavier?” from the second they’d sat down together, she’d known he’d be difficult. She would have chosen the other interviewee if it weren’t for Xavier’s undeniable passion. She wished more candidates had come forward as potential managers, but that wasn’t the case. Back in Sweetgum, she’d have loads of applications flooding her emails when a new branch opened. Pedestrians would call out to her, too, asking for a spot. But here in Peachwood? Nope. We’re not doing that. As much as it pained her to admit, Xavier’s words had left an impact on her: what he’d said about Peachwood and its people. She hadn’t felt alienated until that word rolled off his tongue.
Xavier wore a white sweater over his broad upper body. It sucked on his muscles, creating a detailed picture of his solid pecs. He wore dark jeans over black leather shoes. She’d seen him every day this week and, quite frankly, was sick of his natural good looks. He had a well-trimmed beard on that face of his. That chiseled face that always wore a smile. Slender brows, slanted brown eyes, long lashes, broad nose. At this rate, Joanne could draw him. He always seemed to find himself in her personal space, staring down either pleasantly or inquisitively. His rich, dark complexion complimented his eye color and full brown lips.
“We went over the whole cup system yesterday, including how to refill the paper cups for coffee,” Xavier guided her to the cups stacked behind them. They stayed by the coffee makers, on a black desk at the back. “And while I do like how they’re arranged with each one inside another, I think that organizing them this way could pose an issue on busy days if employees are particularly scrambling,” he picked a cup off another. “Easy for me to do since I’m not stressed, but look.” He grabbed several, and others tumbled down.
Joanne bit her inner lip as people agreed with him. “Well, that can happen with anything if you’re not careful. Mistakes are normal. That doesn’t mean there’s an issue with our cup organization.” Was this guy for real? Did he not hear himself? It had been this way for every session. If it wasn’t the register, it was the coffeemaker, and if that wasn’t a problem, he hated their uniforms. She couldn’t tell if he had it out for her or genuinely wanted to help.
Xavier shook his head. “I think it does mean there’s an issue. My suggestion would be to line them up so it’s easy to just pick one and fill it before fastening the lid,” he demonstrated by spreading out ten cups with ease before taking one and holding it under the coffee dispenser. “See that? So, one of you will be tasked with that, too. Who wants to do cup lining?” He stood beside Joanne while searching for hands. “You want to do it, Charline?”
“Okay, no,” Joanne gently brought Xavier back to his place, then dusted her hands. She heard giggling from their young staff but ignored it. “The cups will stay how they are because they’ve been that way at all my other branches and have worked fine,” she emphasized the word fine to Xavier. “I am in charge, so trust me on this. It doesn’t mean I won’t hear your suggestion, but in terms of minor details such as cups, I don’t think we need to argue,” she clapped. “Okay, so—”
“I actually think that these so-called ‘minor details’ do require our attention. That’s how you gain success in every aspect of business,” Xavier stopped her to say. He faced the trainees while holding the counter. Once again, he’d put himself on Joanne’s level; up front and central. “Imagine if one of those chairs had a short leg,” he waved his arm over the lobby. “Don’t you think it would say something to our customers about what we stand for?” He connected his fingertips while everyone whispered.
