It was strange to see Benjamin at her family cafe, because a man of his status had nothing to do with poor people's food. The only thing wonderful about their shop was the tailoring office. Her mother sewed garments for the wealthy, and that was where they obtained a large portion of their income, but it was largely during the holidays, because the privileged obviously lived in larger cities.
"What brings you to my family's cafe?" She inquired, stepping away from the counter that separated the workshop from the seating area.
"Or maybe you're here to pick up clothes for a cousin or maybe your wife..."
"I'm here for coffee," Benjamin said. His smile faded as his wife was mentioned.
"Very well, then, I'd like to take your order," the lady said, pulling a note pad and pen from the apron pocket that hung about her waist.
Benjamin gave her his order, which she scribbled down. After that, she handed him a three-dollar bill. Then She went back to her desk and turned on the coffee machine.
She steals a few glances at Benjamin from her desk. She was quite curious about what was going on in his thoughts. She expected him to have a haughty demeanor, but he was the polar opposite. He had a devil-may-care attitude, which she found appealing. It seemed as though he had been molded into the upper class but with a different cast.
This piqued her interest in him even more. There was more to this man, and she wanted to find out what it was. For they were strangers, asking him questions might appear disrespectful. The only connection they had was a broken scooter that was being repaired, and that wasn't enough to delve into his life, given how reserved he was.
The lady was so preoccupied with Benjamin that she forgot about the coffee she was brewing, causing it to overbrew.
When she realized her error, she said, "Oh sh*t!"
Benjamin, who had been on his phone the whole time, looked over to the counter where his mystery lady was panicking.
"Do you have a problem?" he inquired.
When she realized Benjamin had noticed, she turned around with a phony smile on her face and responded,
"Nothing,"
Benjamin shrugged and returned to reading the article on his phone, while his mystery girl panicked silently. Starting a new one was out of the question because the coffee was expected to take roughly twenty minutes to prepare. She was about to lose her first potential customer, and all she could do was force a smile whenever Benjamin looked at her. She was about to wallow in her failure when she realized she had made coffee for herself earlier.
"See, mum, everything worked out well," she said to herself as she walked over to where she had placed the cup of coffee.
When she reached for the cup of coffee, the heat of the latte did not radiate as expected—the coffee had turned slightly warm. It wasn't excellent enough to offer as freshly brewed coffee.
She scooped a little with a tea spoon to see how it tasted. She tasted it and noticed an undertone of cinnamon, which she enjoyed, and she wondered whether he did as well.
She lit a low-heat fire and poured the coffee into a pot. She then placed it over the fire to warm it. The coffee was ready in no time, and she poured it back into a mug.
She strolled up to Benjamin's table, placing the mug on a tray and opening the counter door.
"Smells great," Benjamin exclaimed as he detected the smell of the caramelized sweetness in front of him.
Benjamin dug into his breast pocket and pretended to look for money to pay her, as she stood with a downturned face, biting her lips and praying he'd pay before he took a drink of coffee. It was only three dollars, but it meant everything to her.
"It's been reheated, but it still tastes good," Benjamin said as he sipped from the mug.
She then pursed her lips and widened her gaze.
"I can get you..." she was about to begin when he interrupted her.
"Here," he said, laying a $100 bill on the table.
She cocked her head, her gaze fixed on the money he had placed on the table. That was thirty times the cost of a single mug of coffee, and she was not going to take it. She still had the money he handed her over the day before, which she intended to donate to charity. She wasn't a beggar and didn't want anyone to sympathize with her or offer her money.
"This, Sir, I cannot accept, " She remarked, her brow wrinkled.
"I'm sorry, but I don't have any one-dollar bills, and this is all I have. You could either attempt to get me some change or keep it "With a lopsided grin, he responded.
Then she had the feeling he was up to something.
"Isn't this about the scooter? Is there something I'm missing?" She inquired, her eyes narrowed and her arms folded.
"What do you want?" she inquired before he could respond to her other questions.
Benjamin was about to say something when her phone rang. She then gave him a stern look before walking up to her phone. Looking at her phone screen, she noticed that the number had not been saved. She was hesitant at first, but she eventually picked up the phone.
"Ms. Thailah Rivera," said the caller.
Then Benjamin looked at her—the phone was too loud for him to hear her name.
"I'm calling from the community hospital in Clearwater. A patient was brought in only a few moments ago, and I was told to phone this number.... "Thailah cut the line before the lady could finish.
She stood fidgeting and taking shallow breaths after putting down her phone. Benjamin, who had been watching for a time, noticed this and felt compelled to act.
"Is everything okay?" He inquired, standing in front of the counter that separated them.
When he asked, she paced about in tears, saying something about telling her mother that she wanted the shop to close for that day, and her mother's insistence on opening.
While she was pacing, Benjamin opened the workspace's low door and walked inside.
"And now she's in the hospita. I should have stayed at home with her," she murmured to his ears as he slowed her down by grasping her shoulders.
"Who is being treated in the hospital? Come on, talk to me "He urged her, and she looked into his eyes.
"My mother," she said, turning away.