Creampuffs

Interlude Three

Last week's dinner was not a date.

Michelle was married. They had dinner as friends.

Justin wanted, as a friend, to help her get her business running again. They were all grown-ups, business owners, mature responsible adults, etc—

"Justin." Tara nudged him with her elbow. "You're burning the milk."

"Shit." He yanked the container away from the steamer but the acrid smell of scalding milk filled the air. "Dammit."

Tara raised an eyebrow, bending over to continue unloading the dishwasher. "Something on your mind?"

He grumbled, pouring the wasted froth down the sink.

"It's not the utility bill again, is it? They said they would fix that glitch—"

"No, no, nothing like that." He poured replacement milk, checking out of the corner of his eye to whether his regular had noticed the delay—no, they had their headphones on, playing on their phone. "Just thinking. About stuff. Just, uh, helping a friend out tonight."

"I was wondering why you came back in." Tara finished with a yawn. "Not that I mind. Might get extra busy tonight. I heard a new bar's opening down the street."

"Well, I'm not really in, in," Justin clarified. She raised an eyebrow. "But it seemed easiest to meet here, so—"

Tara raised her other eyebrow, and wiggled them both.

"Don't. It's not like that."

Wiggle wiggle.

"I hate you."

"You love me," Tara corrected. "Enough to give me Saturday off."

"Never. And no amount of eyebrow will—" The door bell jingled. Not an unusual noise, but this occasion made him pause.

Michelle gave him a little wave as she stepped between customers chatting on their way out. She gestured about finding a table, and he gave a little wave back.

"Stop that," he said between clenched teeth and a cheesy smile. "I can hear the wiggling."

Tara gave her single bray of a laugh, bumping him over with her hip to finish the latte. "Go on, have fun. I'll manage. I always do."

"Let me know if—"

"Go on!"

He was already lifting the counter.

"Hey." Michelle stared around, clutching at her tote bag. "I didn't—wow, it's busy in here, huh."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Evenings can be. But I saved us a seat."

"Oh. But don't you—" Michelle paused, frowning, as people pushed past her to get out the door. "—need the table? I mean, it's packed..."

Justin answered with a head tilt towards the back and lead her through the cafe. Obviously she hadn't seen the new space yet.

She made a little ooh of appreciation at the renovation, peering around. "Oh, I like this."

"It was actually Cathy's idea," Justin admitted, charitably, patting one of the large IKEA cubby-shelves that formed a false wall, loaded with baskets of coffee beans and other trinkets and delectables. "This used to be flush against the wall and there was a large storage cupboard here, but we moved the cleaning supplies down into the basement, did a bit of reno work on the day off, et voilà, a quieter space and a few more tables."