Dance Upon the Air Read Free Page B

Mia’s office.
    The antique cherry desk suited her, Nell thought. She imagined Mia surrounded by the rich and the beautiful. There were flowers here, and thriving plants, little bits of crystal and polished rocks in bowls. Along with the stylish furnishings were a top-of-the-line computer, a fax, filing cabinets, and shelves for publishers’ catalogs. Mia gestured to a chair and took the one behind the desk for herself.
    â€œYou had a few hours in the café, so you’ve seen the type of fare we offer. There’s a specialty sandwich each day, the day’s soup, a small selection of alternate sandwiches. Two or three varieties of cold salads. Pastries, cookies, muffins, biscotti. In the pastI left the menu choices up to the cook. Are you comfortable with that?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œPlease, I’m barely a year older than you. It’s Mia. Until we’re sure this is going to work, I’d prefer you make up the next day’s menu for my approval.” She took a legal pad out of the drawer, passed it across the desk. “Why don’t you write down what you have in mind for tomorrow?”
    Panic wanted to crawl through her, tremble in her fingers. Nell took a deep breath, waited until her mind was blank and clear, then began to write. “This time of year, I think we should keep the soups light. Herbed consommé. Tortellini salad, a white bean, and a shrimp. I’d do a spiced-chicken pita for the sandwich, and a vegetarian selection, but I’d have to see what’s in season. I can make you tarts, again depending on what looks good fruit-wise. The éclairs are popular—I can duplicate those. A six-layer chocolate-and-cream torte. Awesome blueberry muffins, as well as walnut. You’re low on hazelnut biscotti. Cookies? Chocolate chip is never wrong. Macadamia. Instead of a third cookie, I’d offer brownies. I make an irresistible triple-fudge brownie.”
    â€œHow much can you prepare on-site?”
    â€œAll of it, I guess. But if you’re going to serve the pastries and muffins starting at ten, I’ll need to start about six.”
    â€œIf you had your own kitchen?”
    â€œOh, well.” What a lovely fantasy that was. “I’d prep some of the menu the night before, bake fresh in the morning.”
    â€œUm-hmm. How much money do you have, Nell Channing?”
    â€œEnough.”
    â€œDon’t be prickly,” Mia advised breezily. “I can advance you a hundred dollars. Going against a salary, to start, of seven an hour. You’ll log your shopping, cooking hours daily. You’ll charge what you need, food-wise, to the store’s account. I’ll want the receipts, again daily.”
    When Nell opened her mouth to speak, Mia simply lifted one slim, coral-tipped finger. “Wait. You’ll be expected to serve and to clear tables when there’s a rush, and to assist customers in the book section on your level during lulls. You get two half-hour breaks, Sundays off, and a fifteen percent employee discount on purchases, not including food or drink—which unless you turn out to be a glutton, will be part of your perks. With me so far?”
    â€œYes, but I—”
    â€œGood. I’m here every day. If you have a question or problem you can’t handle, get me. If I’m not available, go to Lulu. She’s usually at the counter on the main floor, and she knows everything. You look quick enough to catch on; if you don’t know an answer, don’t be afraid to ask. Now, you’re looking for a place to stay.”
    â€œYes.” It was like being swept away by a fast, unexpected wind. “I hope to—”
    â€œCome with me.” Mia pulled a set of keys out of a drawer, pushed away from the desk and clipped out—she wore gorgeous, needle-thin heels, Nell noted.
    Once they were on the main level, she walkedstraight toward a rear door. “Lulu!” she