Kristina Springer - The Espressologist

Duh, Em, what do you think I mean? What do you think of my friend Cam? I totally saw you checking him out. Don't even try to lie."

"What?" She blushes. "I wasn't checking anybody out."

"Yeah ... okay ... whatever," I say. "Do you want to go on a date with that guy you weren't checking out?"

Em slams the frothing pitcher on the table, spilling some, and looks at me with her eyebrows shot up.

"What did you bloody hell do?" she hisses at me, narrowing her eyes.

"Hey, calm down." I grab a handful of napkins and stretch over the counter to clean up the spilled milk. "Cam is great. It would be a fun thing, casual, just for laughs.

Nothing serious at all, I swear."

"No, Jane. I told you I wasn't ready."

"Well, I'm not asking you to pick out china patterns with the guy. Just go on one date," I say.

"I ... I can't," she says. "I haven't dated anyone besides Jason in years."

"Exactly! That is why Cam is the perfect choice for a first post-Jason date. Seriously, Em, he'll have you laughing all night." I can see Em soften and consider the idea.

"I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready."

"Well, just chat with him online first. I gave him your IM screen name and your e-mail address," I say.

"What?! I never really had a choice in the matter, did I?" she asks.

"Not really, but if a long-term boyfriend ever breaks up with me, I'll expect you to return the favor."

"Well," she says, wiping the sides of the milk pitcher with a wet towel, "he is pretty cute."

I grin. "That he is."

On Wednesday, I've only been working for about an hour and Sarah and I are doing a quick cleaning. There was a mom in here when my shift began who let her one-year-old tear the place apart. He was bowling with an apple and the yogurt smoothie containers from the refrigerator case and building a pyramid with pound packages of coffee. She sat there the entire time looking adoringly at him and I was wondering just how big of a mess he was going to leave me to clean before the next rush of customers. I reached my breaking point when he pulled down all of the coffee travel mugs and walked around the store passing them out. As I was about to finally say something to his mom, she swooped him up, blew raspberries into his neck, and left the store, not even giving a backward glance at the wreck her toddler tornado had left.

I am putting the mugs away when I suddenly feel a presence behind me. I glance over my shoulder. It's a slightly pleased Derek. His right hand is poised in midair, but then he quickly pulls it down to his side. I think he was going to pat me on the back.

"Hey," I say. "How's it going, Derek?"

"Good. These are good." He waves a paper in his left hand at me. It's my list of "Manager's Specialty Drinks" for the month of December.

"Thanks."

"Keep it up." He nods at me awkwardly and then walks quickly toward his office. I step behind the counter to wait on the next customer. Sarah joins me.

"Was that Derek ... being nice?"

"Yeah. Looks weird on him, doesn't it?"

"Totally." She giggles. "Hey, I didn't thank you for setting me up with Officer Scrumptious."

"What happened?" I ask excitedly. "Did he call you?

Did you go out?"

"Yes and yes," Sarah answers. "He's so awesome. He called me the next day and we met for drinks. We hit it off right away so afterward we decided to go dancing. He is such a good dancer. The way he moves his body.

Omigod."

"That good, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm." She has a dreamy look on her face.

"Well, I'm two for two now. First Gavin and Simone, and then you and Officer Jake. I'm setting up my friend Cam with Em now."

"You're becoming the local matchmaker," she says.

"Yeah. I guess I kind of am." Just then the door opens and in walk my frat boys. "Oh my gosh, is it after five already?"

Sarah nods. "Yeah, it's five-twenty."

Ugh. No time to fix my hair or check my makeup. I turn my head and try to subtly sniff my shirt. Did I put on my wildflower body spray this morning? Can't remember. I squirt a tiny bit of vanilla syrup into my palm and dab a bit behind each ear. Yeah, it seems a little gross, and quite frankly sticky, but it is here and fast, and, well, now I smell delicious. I quickly pinch my cheeks to give them some color. I don't actually think it will make me look any better, but my grandma always told me, "Give your cheeks a little pinch whenever you are about to talk to a cute boy." And Will is as cute as they come, so I pinch away.

"Are you okay?" Will asks, and I quickly take my hands away from my face.

What, did he fly across the store to the counter?

"Sure!" I say, grinning ear to ear. "How are you doing today?"

He frowns slightly. "I could be a lot better. I overslept and missed my math class. Then I failed my history quiz.

Not good."

"I'm so sorry," I say. "At least Thanksgiving is tomorrow and you'll get a break."

Will nods. "That's true. What about you? Any special plans for tomorrow, Jane?"

"Just the normal family thing," I say. "My mom always hosts Thanksgiving."

"That's sweet," he says with a warm tone in his voice.

"We're not really doing the whole Thanksgiving thing."

"Why not?"

"We all"–he points to himself and his friends–"got roped into some fraternity duties this weekend and can't go home. We're going to get together with a group of friends and just watch football games and order pizzas."

"That sounds like fun!" I say. And I seriously mean it. I would so rather be sitting at Will's frat house eating pizza tomorrow instead of sitting next to my sloppy uncle Ed, who somehow manages to spill gravy on my shirt at every holiday meal.

"You're more than welcome to join us," Will offers.

"Seriously?" I ask a little too eagerly. "Yeah," he says, and laughs.

Now I look like an idiot again. I really need to calm down. But this is almost a date!

"Well, here," I say, shoving a piece of paper and pen at him, "write down your info and I'll call you if I can get out of my family thing."

Will jots down a phone number and passes the paper to me. I fold it up and slip it into my pocket.

The boys take their drinks and head for the door. Will pauses and turns back around. "Maybe we'll see you tomorrow.

"Maybe," I say. "Niiiiice," Sarah says. "I know, right?"

Thanksgiving Day starts out just as I expected. Dad, Uncle Ed, Grandpa Turner, and my cousins Nathan (whom

I still haven't forgiven for the whole homecoming debacle last year) and Kevin are all parked on the couch in front of the TV watching football. Mom, Grandma Torreni, Aunt Sally, and my super people-pleasing cousin Susie are all cooking a ton of food in the kitchen. I don't know where to go. I don't want to cook and I hate football. I consider sneaking back into my room to read the new book I bought last week when I hear my name.

"Jaaaaaaaane," my mom calls.

Oh crap. I head toward the kitchen. The silver fixtures and appliances gleam and the pumpkin-colored walls give the room a warm feeling. I stand outside the door, hoping that is as close as I will have to get.

"There you are," Mom says. "Come here and hold the turkey's legs apart so I can pull out the guts." Mom is standing next to the sink holding on to the pimply-skinned legs of a gigantic turkey.

"What?" I twist my face in disgust. "No way, that is so gross."

"Jane, I need you," Mom says in a stern voice now.

"Um, I'd really rather not."

"I can help you, Auntie Cheryl," Susie says, and I roll my eyes.

"No, Susie, you are elbow-deep in stuffing. Jane, NOW," Mom orders.

I'm not going to get out of this.

"Oh, for god's sake," I mutter under my breath as I join my mom at the sink. "Fine, I'm here. What do I have to do?"