When a customer raised his hand, Sherry changed her direction to exchange a few words with him before finally making her way back to the kitchen.

“Stop drooling over your girlfriend and get me three latte macchiatos,” Danielle said, leaning between two bar stools.

Madison straightened. “I’m not drooling.” How could she learn to be a good waitress if she didn’t observe? “Besides, I have no idea how to handle this stupid coffee machine, so—”

Sherry came back from the kitchen and touched Madison’s arm with her warm fingers while looking at Danielle. “Sorry, I haven’t had the time yet.”

“Time for what?” Madison asked.

“Sherry promised earlier to finally give you a quick tour of the coffee machine today.”

“Quick tour?” Madison crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t need a quick tour.”

Danielle opened her mouth, but it was Sherry who spoke first. “Madison, you’re doing a fantastic job here, and it’s easy to see that you’re not a co-owner just on paper.”

“But?”

Sherry’s hand on her arm started a slow caress, distracting Madison. “But I’m sure you would like to be able to do everything here.”

“What you meant to say is that you would like me to be able to do everything here.”

The soft caresses were making it hard to focus, so Madison took a step back to interrupt the contact. Why didn’t Sherry just cut out her sugarcoating and say what was really on her mind? She and Danielle thought she was doing nothing but standing around uselessly. Madison could almost hear Grandmother Eileen’s stern voice saying, “You’re a good-for-nothing.”

Sherry’s fingertips touched her arm again. “Danielle, could you give us a second?” As soon as Danielle had disappeared into the kitchen, Sherry said softly, “I’m sorry. Why don’t we—?”

Madison tore away from her. “Did you have to talk about me being a good-for-nothing with Danielle behind my back?”

Sherry stared at her. “I did no such thing. And neither has Danielle. Besides, why would you think you’re a good-for-nothing?”

“Save your breath. I know what’s going on here.”

“Excuse me.” A young woman leaned over the bar. “I’ve been waiting for more than ten minutes for my latte macchiato now.”

Madison yanked the dishtowel from her shoulder and threw it on the counter. “Then five more minutes won’t kill you, will it?”

The woman’s mouth fell open, and even Sherry gaped at her.

“I…I’m getting to it right away,” Sherry said. “And of course, it’s on the house. I’m really sorry. It’s—”

“I don’t have to put up with being spoken to like that!” The customer turned on her heel, marched toward her table to grab her purse, and left the Archer while mumbling some pretty creative expletives.

“Was that really necessary?” Sherry asked.