It was the Café I go to daily. I was a regular paying customer. Sandra, the owner, knew my name and my order without conversation. Once I came inside, she began to prepare it. It was a comfortable place for me. I am in my mid-thirties and a professional. Sandra was older than I. I do not know her age exactly. She always wore a dress and flats. Sandra was shapely with nice round hips and a bosom that attracted attention from men. Her hair was long, halfway down her back. I suppose it was once brown. Mind you brown remained, but it was greyer these days. A quite beautiful woman.
We spoke each time I came in. Nothing deep or personal. I had a job to get to and she had a business to run. It would have been rude of me to take her time. But Sandra would make the rounds when the counter was not busy. She checked with each patron and made certain all was well. A nice lady and businessperson.
The Café was busy before the holidays. Gift cards from there were a nice present. I had bought and given it myself. And they were good for anything in the store. This particular year, a thick stack of cards went to work colleagues and management personnel. I had no one else to spend my money on. And I know most appreciated the idea. I thought of Sandra's as "my" Café. I loved the atmosphere, and the people were great. Sandra had a marvelous thing going there. There were always seasonal coffee drinks. I was very partial to peppermint or chocolate cherry lattes. That is when I was not sipping double espresso.
My job shuts down for the holidays a couple of days before Christmas. I did not have to go back until after the New Year. A good long break. Time to de-stress and remember why I work so hard. This means when I arrived at Sandra's Café later in the morning. Strolling up to the counter to make my order, Sandra looks at her watch.
"You're running a little late, aren't you?"
I smile and return.
"Nope. Off for the rest of the year. My time is my own."
Seconds later, a ponderously large Chocolate Cherry latte is mine. I find an out of the way spot to drink my coffee and play a stupid game on my phone.
There was a woman in the Café this morning with five kids. They were all under six years of age. She appeared exhausted and had trouble keeping them corralled. One of the little munchkins dropped and broke a bag of roasted coffee beans. As you may imagine, beans went everywhere. The mom tried to clean up the mess while dealing with the other four kids. It ain't happening. Sandra also attempted to pick the floor, but the counter demands her attention. I jump up and ask Sandra to give me the broom and dustpan.
"I got this." I tell her.
The mother and brood made their purchases and head out. It became peaceful. It is obvious Sandra did not have the help she needs. I decided to hang around. Once I had the bean mess swept up, I started busing and cleaning tables. Sandra gave directions on where to put stuff.
Sandra looked at me and mouths.
"Thank you"
The morning drifted into the afternoon. I made myself useful. The crowd dissipated after the lunch hour. I had found a nice corner to sit and wait for the next disaster or table to clean.
Sandra glided towards me and asked.
"You want lunch? It is on the house as you have been so helpful?"
Her face is expectant. I would have told her yes, I can stay, even if I had somewhere else to be. Sandra was trying to pay me back for helping. She nods for me to follow her. I cannot help but look at her form as she leads me to the kitchen. It is just her and me.
"What do you like?" She asks.
I am not fussy. when it comes to what someone is making for me.
So, I answer.
"Food. I like food. Whatever you make, I will eat."
Sandra nods and begins. Very quickly she put together a sandwich. Smoked turkey breast, water cress, mayo, and a spicy brown mustard on slices of onion sourdough bread. This is next to a cup of sausage lentil soup. Sandra made one for herself. We sat at an empty table in an empty café. She did get up now and again to take care of patrons. That is okay too.
We had the opportunity to chat during the meal. Sandra wanted to know where I worked and what I did and general info. The late afternoon picked up as shoppers once more descended on her establishment. Sandra was busy once more. I did as before and made myself useful. The last two hours of her day were busy. The place normally shut down at six. But there were still patrons, so Sandra remained open. Good business sense. I watched Sandra the entire day. She was an industrious worker.
The moment came for closing. Sandra looked exhausted.
In a moment of inspiration, I asked her.
"I would like to take you out to dinner. You look as though you need a break from here."
Sandra smiled and said that would be nice, but she must clean this place up and be ready for tomorrow.
"I'll make a deal with you." I spoke.
"Let us go eat and relax. Once we finish, I will help you get ready for tomorrow. Huh? A deal?"
Sandra looked at me for moments as though trying gage if I was trustworthy.
So, I added.
"It is all out in public. You do not like it? I will bring you back. No problem, no strings. "
Sandra answered.
"Okay. Let me go upstairs for a moment. Then we can leave."
Sandra returned. She had "freshened" herself. I thought that was nice. I helped her with her coat, and we left. I like Italian food. It is like a party in your mouth. So, I asked if it would all right, I ordered for us both. Sandra seemed okay with this. We began with Prosecco and more discussion. This followed by bread, cheese, and a few veggies. A couple of cups of Minestrone arrived. Very tasty and warm on a frigid day. Then there was a little pasta and meat sauce, not too much though. Roasted green beans arrived soon after.
"Would you like dessert?" I asked Sandra.
We settled on triple chocolate cake and espresso. Lastly, we had a small glass of Limoncello to round out the evening. Sated and very relaxed. Sandra had an enjoyable time also. But I had promised to help her clean the café. I made good on that. With both of us working at it, things accomplished quickly. Then, I excused myself, thanked her for her company and a wonderful day, and left for home.
My walk home was uneventful. I thought to myself. Today was nice. I think I will show up tomorrow when Sandra opens and just make myself "useful." I had thoroughly enjoyed her company at dinner. Even cleaning the café with her was entertaining. I rested well and looked forward to tomorrow. I did, however, wonder about Sandra's reaction to my being there again. If she asked me to leave, I would.
Six o'clock in the morning and I was first in line. Sandra opened the door, and I received a very congenial smile. I accepted a peppermint latte and found my place. The café was quite busy for the day before Christmas. Last minute shopping, I guessed. I did as I had done the previous day. Sandra managed to find more time to speak with me today. But there were things to do. Patrons served and messes cleaned up. We each did our part. I even ended up in the kitchen washing cups and plates.
No big deal for me and Sandra was grateful. She made me lunch again. Then at closing time, she was tired and so was I. Sandra walked me to the door with thanks and a good night.
Just before closing and locking the door, she asked.
"Phillip, what are your plans for tomorrow?"
I turned to respond.
"I have none. Just a peaceful day."
Sandra nodded her head and then asked.
"Would like to spend Christmas Day with me? I will make us food. I would like your company please."
How could I refuse her? I accepted. With that, I walked home. Tomorrow will spend it with my new friend. better than being alone.
I rummaged through my pantry that evening. I wanted to take bottles of dry red wine as well as a couple of whites. Not knowing Sandra's tastes, I wanted a variety. I packed everything and went to bed. The next morning, I arose and showered, shaved, and dressed to make myself presentable. I had a little breakfast. Nothing major. Pumpkin bagels with generous slabs of cream cheese. Alas, no coffee. I have depended on Sandra for this for. I was certain she would accommodate me.
I knocked lightly on the door and Sandra answered. It was different seeing the Café closed and dark. We negotiated the tables and chairs to the steps. Upstairs was her living section. It was clean and neat. Antique pieces of coffee paraphernalia here and there. But the space looked comfortable. Sandra took my coat. Meal prep had not begun yet and I was to assist. But not before opening one of the white wines.
The meal today was a small turkey, dressing, potatoes, and salad. It would all take time. I stood tearing up bread or chopping onions. Whatever Sandra needed. We talked and talked and talked. Sandra was divorced for years. She did not divulge details and I do not need to know. No children, just the Café. Sandra did ask if I had anyone in my life. I did not. She did ask why I chose to stay and help her out for two days.
I thought for a moment before answering.
"You know. It just seemed the right thing to do. You needed the help I think, and I was happy to do so."
Her follow up question.
"And Phillip, what did you hope to gain from doing this?"
That answer came quickly.
"Not a thing."
One of her eyebrows went up at that.
It was time to wrestle with the turkey, stuff it and place it in the oven. It took time to cook the bird. There were other things to do. Chopping up salad parts, boiling potatoes for mashing. I wondered aloud if Sandra would make gravy from the drippings. She said she would try if I liked. There was down time while things boiled and baked. We spoke more, each of her questions a little more probing to find who and what I really was. I did not mind as I had nothing to hide.
She asked me when the last time I went on a date was. I mean before taking her out for Italian. I sat for what must have appeared an eternity. I had not been out on a date for three years. Had it been that long? So, I reversed the question. Sandra said after the divorce, she did not feel like dating. That is understandable, I guess. Turns out she had been divorced for eleven years. A long time I thought. We both grew quiet as we reflected on our barren love lives. The one thing we did have in common was work.
The potatoes required mashing. And the first bottle of wine was empty. Odd how it evaporates like that. We were working in proximity in the kitchen. I would catch subtle whiffs of her cologne. Our hands would brush now and again. I liked this. A question occurred to me. I do not know if it was the wine, or I was simply curious now. Sandra was inches from my face.
So, I asked.
"Sandra, how long since a man has kissed you?"
Her head snapped in directly towards mine. Her eyes searched mine.
