Heiress in Distress

•Chapter 1•

•Word count: 1,040

-Present Day-

"And that my sweetheart is how you turn a simple caffeine shot into a work of art" Cynthia chirps happily, withdrawing the frothing pitcher and positioning it next to her head and flashing her million dollar smile.
A work of art indeed; I think, as I peer into the white cup with the shop's logo printed on its front.

I'm still marvelling at the enchanting swan on the surface of the cappuccino, when my phone buzzes over the counter. The second my eyes shift to the screen, Cynthia slaps the the pitcher on the counter, causing the surface of the milk to ripple and a tiny ring of spilled milk to surround the metal pitcher.

"I trust you realise what measures are to be taken when staff members allow for any sorts of distraction during working hours" She says sternly in French, pointing with her forehead to my phone.

"I do; I'm sorry, it won't happen again" I say this even as my traitorous eyes skim over the text message:

~Clara: The little one's out for the afternoon~

A smile automatically finds its way onto my lips, but I manage to hide it with a cough into my fisted hand.

"Sorry" I repeat, tucking my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.
Narrowing her eyes just to insure the point's been driven home, her face splits in another dazzling smile.

"Great! Now, here's your guide" She passes me a card that has both its ends folded into the middle "Read it thoroughly and follow the instructions, and please-" The feeling of cold skin on my own has my gaze drifting to my forearm, where Cynthia has her delicate fingers wrapped around it.

"Don't spill milk on the counter" She says this with a straight face, lifts the pitcher off the counter, and wipes the countertop with a napkin she must've retrieved from the front pocket of her apron.

"Good Luck on your first day, Barbie" She winks on parting. I grimace at the nickname, silently cursing my ID card for my blonde head and exceptionally clear blue eyes -contacts.

Watching her retreating form, I grab my phone and shoot Clara, my best friend, a text, remembering to add a courteous 'Merci Beacoup' for watching over Élise.

After moving to Strasbourg -the capital city of the Grand Est region, in northeastern France- 5 months ago, I have only been on my own for a few days before I met Clara at a local grocery store.
Being a complete amateur French speaker, I attempted to ask her for guidance on the general grocery section with words limping all the way to the word 'bébé'.
At that moment, the beautiful brunette, bold and welcoming, bent down and scooped the little baby from her bassinet and began cooing.

It wasn't until she offered her hand and introduced herself that I noticed the sleek accent belonging to a definitely native English figure.

Later, I discovered that Clara was in fact a Linguistics student, graduated from Lancaster University, who came to France to put the foreign Language into practical use, by living among the natives.

Because I had yet to settle and hadn't had a constant job to pay for an actual babysitter, I immediately agreed to her offer to babysit Élise for me while I work; in return, I won't charge her for staying in with us.

Since she needed a place to stay in but couldn't afford to pay for the apartment flat on her own, she was already in the hunt for a roommate to split the rent with. She admitted to barely keeping up with the rent and maintaining three meals a day.

So, my agreeing to her proposal wasn't only prompted by humanly dutifulness, but also the quickly forming affectionate bond between Élise and her.

She even had her possessions transferred to our place in the evening, saying goodbye to her landlord, who she later admitted to be rather obnoxious for his age, for good.

Unfolding the card, I almost groan aloud at the instructions and checklists.
This is definitely going to be a long day.

•••

Tinkling wind chimes indicate someone's using the door, probably a customer.
"We're closed!" I shout to the intruder, who seems to have missed the 'fermé' sign on the window, without looking up from my task of backflushing the espresso machine.

The sounds of footsteps -clicks of high heels- stop at the front counter; I sigh in defeat.
Upon exiting the kitchen, I'm greeted by a mane of flaming red hair, on a head that swivels immediately in notice of my presence.

"What can I get you, miss ?" I politely ask in their mother tongue.

She smiles in response; "I thought you said you were closed"

"We are, but if there is something available I can serve you, then why not" When I say this, her smile only widens, green eyes twinkling with mirth.

"I like you" I almost choke at her unceremonious reversion to English.
In fear of appearing ill-mannered, I force a smile despite my misplaced unease.

"You must be the newbie" She acknowledges equably, yet her comment only serves to fuel my growing agitation.
Still, I retain my hospitable demeanour and nod, my smile unfaltering. She's probably just a regular here.

I don't allow her a chance to say anything else; "Is there anything I can get you ?"

"Could you please summon Cynthia for me ? Tell her it's Juniper" Eager to leave the rather uncomfortable atmosphere, I immediately move towards the office at the rear of the shop, where Cynthia told me she'll be, running necessary reports and doing closing paper work.

She opens the door on the third knock, but seeing the inside of the office already dark and her purse hanging off her shoulder, I assume it's because she was already leaving.

"A young lady called Juniper says to meet her at the front" I inform her.

"Alright. You can leave now, Mira. I'll lock up." She punctuates the gentle dismissal with an exhausted yet pleasant smile.

"Thank you" With a smile of my own, I see myself out, sending a courteous nod in the beautiful redhead's direction when passing her on my way out.

••••

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my unprofessional work.
Means the world to me (=

•Instagram: ghaidastrilogy

-Asia