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MAEVE TOOK A customer's empty plate to the kitchen with one hand, the girl holding her copy of 'Dracula' by Bram Stoker in her other hand, focus entirely on the page she was reading.
Throughout the whole morning, Maeve had managed to juggle reading and working simultaneously, almost over-pouring Kirk's coffee once before quickly saving it right before the liquid could reach the rim of the cup.
It wasn't as if 'Dracula' was the most riveting book ever—Maeve could think of at least fifty others that overtook its position—, but Flynn had mentioned in a fleeting conversation that it was one of the only books he's ever read and liked, so Maeve wanted—needed—to reread it to refresh her memory.
Flynn wasn't much of a reader anyway, so this was quite a big deal for Maeve if she wanted to talk to him about books at all.
Sure, talking about other things was incredibly easy and beyond fine, but Maeve enjoyed the debating and discussion aspect of novels, music, movies, and practically everything else. If there was nothing of substance to a conversation, what was the point? Plus, to Maeve, talking about books was fun.
"Look at that girl go." Lorelai's astounded voice caught Luke's attention, who was pouring her coffee, from the table she was sitting at with Rory, chin resting on her palm as both herself and her daughter watched Maeve in awe, as if she was putting on a show. "How is she doing that?"
"Even I can't multitask to that extent." Rory raised her eyebrows, praising Maeve's ability to both read and serve customers at the same time.
Kirk raised an eyebrow from the adjacent table. "I've tried to catch her attention several times, but she won't budge. It's like she's on autopilot."
