Johnathon's Arc

Chapter 27 of 31

The new boutique smelled of fresh paint. Lexi's key had opened an empty shell two doors from Johnathon's bistro. Now, three weeks later, the floor held clothing racks and mirrors. Boxes still lined one wall. Lexi stood in the middle, tablet in hand, frowning at a column of numbers. "Opening day is Saturday," she told Johnathon. "And I can't run this and film Mondays and keep my orders straight. I need help. Real help." Johnathon set down a box. "Then hire someone." "I already found her," Lexi said. "She's coming now." The door swung open. A woman walked in carrying two coffees and a clipboard tucked under her arm. She had shoulder-length hair, blonde and brown, and thick black glasses shoved up on top of her head instead of on her face. Her purple plaid shirt was rolled at the sleeves. She handed one coffee to Lexi without asking. "I found your problem," she said. "Your vendor double-billed the last shipment. I called them. They cried. You're welcome." She looked at Johnathon. "You're the chef. I've seen your face on TV. Shorter than I expected." Johnathon laughed before he could stop himself. "I'm five foot eleven." "Sure you are," Stephanie said. She pulled the glasses down onto her nose and squinted at Lexi's tablet. "Okay. Your inventory system is a mess. You've got winter stock counted twice and spring stock not counted at all." Her fingers moved fast across the screen. "Give me an hour. I'll build you a real ledger." Lexi glanced at Johnathon. Her sentences went quiet. "She managed a shop for six years. She does numbers I can't. And she makes the boxes feel less scary." Stephanie didn't look up. "I heard that. It's true, though." Johnathon watched them work. Stephanie sorted a rack while she talked, jokes flying, but every price tag landed in the right place. She caught a shipping error Lexi had missed twice. She lined up the Saturday schedule in ten minutes. By noon the ledger balanced. The boxes by the wall were flat and stacked for recycling. "Saturday's covered," Stephanie said. She wrote a number on Lexi's clipboard. "That's the profit margin if we hold that price. Don't discount opening day. People pay full price when they're excited." Lexi stared at the clipboard. Then she stuck out her hand. "You're hired." "Obviously," Stephanie said, and shook it. Saturday came. The pink boutique filled with customers before Johnathon finished his morning prep two doors down. Through his bistro window he saw the line stretch past his own front step. Stephanie ran the register, cracking jokes, ringing sales, never dropping a beat. Lexi found Johnathon at the counter that night, tired and grinning. "It worked," she said. "Same street. Both places full." But the crowds cut both ways. Stephanie waved through the glass, then held up Johnathon's own reservation book. It was empty for Monday. Filming day. His bistro would sit dark while the whole block came to shop.