I smile. “So, I’m in?”

“You most definitely are. If you want to.”

I am tempted to hug her, but instead I just thank her maybe a few too many times.

“The pay is—” She pauses. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid it will offend you,” she says.

“Why would it offend me?”

“It’s $25 per hour plus any tips you make.”

“It’s better than I thought,” I say and I’m honest. I do quick math; it’s just a bit shy of my fancy journalistic job in New York. And there were definitely no tips there.

“Good to hear,” she says.

“I assume there is a test on the job,” I say.

“Just a few hours. And paid,” she says. “Half a shift. Anyhow, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

I appreciate the vote of confidence. I’m not as sure as she is, and I don’t know about great, but I’ll definitely do my best.

“When would you want me to start?”

“Now? As in, today? Or tomorrow? Whenever you want.”

“I can start now,” I say.

“Perfect. We can finish the trial period this evening. If it all goes well—which I’m sure will happen—do you know for how many hours a day you’d like to work? Four? More?”

“How about I work for however many hours you need me?” I say.

I don’t have a reason—yet—not to be here all day. When that reason shows up—hopefully soon—we’ll discuss this again. Besides, I want to make sure I’m in Celine’s good graces.

Her eyes widen. “That’s too good of an offer to pass up. Be careful, I might take you up on that and decide I need you here from 8 AM to midnight.”

I laugh. “That’s fine.”

No difference versus my job in New York. I wasn’t making coffee for sixteen hours, but I was up on my feet for just as long in a job I loathed. This can’t be any worse.

She seems excited, and that makes me feel even more guilty. She seems like such a kind person—her only fault is that she’s related to Ethan Delphy—who doesn’t deserve being used like this. But I plan on giving this job my absolute best, and hopefully, she’ll soon find someone who’s here to stay for the summer.

Celine is explaining everything with patience and a permanent smile.

“Is there a uniform or something I need to wear?”

She smirks. “Look at me. Do you think you need a uniform?”

She’s wearing a long purple and green tie-dye dress and sandals to match it. Celine and Carmel make me think of the flower power movement and Scott McKenzie’s song, and I’m tempted to put a flower in my hair and dance on the street. What’s gotten into me?

“I’ll just need an ID and some info for the paperwork, but we can deal with that later. It’s all online anyway. Should be painless.”

“Sure,” I say and give her my driver’s license so she can make a copy.

“Alright, just so you know, people here come for dinner as early as four. We have a couple of hours now before it gets busy again. It’s the perfect time to show you the ropes.”