Even her appreciation for my pastry didn’t shake my annoyance with her behavior. She’d been here a couple of months and she’d never put in an honest week’s work. She had a few good days, a few no-shows, but mostly she just drifted in and out like her job was an afterthought. I was tired of carrying her weight.

“You haven’t dated anyone since I’ve been working here, right?” she asked, oblivious to my mounting anger.

“That’s super none of your business,” I said.

Lucy, returning with the book club orders, eyed Ariel. “Eight iced caramel frappes, one iced green tea, and one pot of lemon and hibiscus.”

Ariel popped the rest of the lemon bar in her mouth and chewed. “Sorry, Babe. I just assumed. But it’s fine. Dating isn’t for everyone.” It wasn’t much of an apology.

For a girl in desperate need of allies, she has an awful lot of sass. I gritted my teeth.

But then the door opened again and in our distraction, Ariel pulled a Houdini.

I sighed. “What do you wanna bet we don’t see her again until after the lunch rush?”

“Try closing time,” said Lucy, filling up the orders with the practiced ease of a barista. “Hand me the caramel sauce, would you?”

As expected, Ariel didn’t reappear until the end of the day, just in time to show her face. Tom, who had come in for his usual game of chess with Ralph, asked once again if the deliveries had been checked against the invoice so he could pay the bill. Ariel swore up and down that she had done it, even though I was pretty sure she hadn’t.

When Levi came to pick me up, I’d never been so eager to leave.

“Hey, Levi,” chirped Lucy when he came through the door, looking like the quintessential summer boy in his blue plaid American Eagle button-down.

“Hey,” he greeted us as he approached. “Ready to go?” He gave Lucy a wave, and as I turned to do the same, she gave me a quick thumbs-up.

Butterflies were raging in my stomach like they were on freaking Molly. “I’d love to introduce you to Tom and Ralph,” I said. “Ralph was on the art center’s selection committee.”

Levi nodded eagerly. “I’d love that.”

Ariel hung around for a few minutes, clearly angling for an introduction, but Tom and Ralph monopolized the conversation with questions about the art residency. Levi had his sketchbook in a beat-up messenger bag and flipped it open to familiar scenes of Oar’s Rest: the post office’s window boxes, overflowing with flowers; vibrant shutters on whitewashed cottages; a huge wedge of pie from Kimble’s Diner, blueberry filling oozing onto the plate.

Appropriately impressed, Tom had sent us on our way, giving me his blessing with a hearty wink that I hoped Levi didn’t catch.