The Holiday Switch(16)

As I approach the group, Teddy meets my eyes. For a beat, I’m caught up in his stare and the way he seems to be taking me in.

My temperature spikes, and whether he’s checking me out or sizing me up, my first inclination is to look away. But my firstborn persona arises from my bashfulness. I don’t shy away from a dare.

When I make my way to the group, there’s only one open place to stand, and that’s next to Teddy.

No big deal, right? And yet, it feels like it is.

While everyone is chatting among themselves, the silence between me and Teddy builds. I should really make conversation. Teddy is new, and our crew is small but tight. He wasn’t the one who insisted he take my hours; it was Ms. Velasco’s decision.

“Neat, huh? Celebrities…here,” I lob at Teddy. He has one hand in his pocket, while the other holds the rolled-up cheat sheet. His posture is a weird mix of nonchalance and tension. On his dark pants are traces of white powder, like he ran his fingers against the fabric.

What is all that?

“Neat,” he says.

His smile is polite, but he’s clearly unenthused. Then again, we didn’t leave things on a good note the last time we worked together. So I let his attitude roll right off me, even if he is impossible to ignore. Because as KC noted, Teddy is cute, and there’s a hint of cologne—or maybe it’s just him—that has made my nose perk up.

    I cram a piece of cupcake into my mouth.

Maybe no should be my answer.

But when Ms. Velasco sets her attention on us with her beaming smile, I remember that Jonah Johanson and Remy Castillo are coming.

I want to be a part of these big plans for the Inn. I want the money.

“Lila, have you thought about it?” she asks.

“Yes, I have.” I turn to Teddy once more. “I’ll be glad to help.”





SUNDAY, DECEMBER 19

“You want me to go through this list?” Teddy lifts the laminated sheet, tucked into a clipboard, to his face. “Turn on lights. Turn on register. Unlock door. Check the thermostat.” His eyes shift upward to me and then back down. “And you want me to physically mark the boxes next to it. Won’t I be able to tell if the door’s locked when the customers can’t get in?”

A headache creeps into my skull, and his name is Teddy Rivera. I touch my temple, noting the time above the front door. Only ten minutes are left before we open, and the parking lot is already half filled with vehicles. Sunday is our busiest day, when most tour buses schedule their stop.

“Those lists are for everyone to use, written up by Ms. Velasco. So it’s not just for you. Mark the list when you get through with the tasks, please.” I hold up the dry-erase marker.

And finally, after a protracted moment, Teddy takes the marker and checks the box with a sigh.

It’s going to be a long day. Admittedly, because Teddy was here before I arrived, and dressed properly in his uniform, I thought that better workdays were ahead. Nope—our last workday was actually just a preview, because Teddy cannot be taught a single thing.

    Still, I move on and attempt to lead with patience and kindness. Three training shifts with Teddy—that’s it. “Normally we have two to three people working the gift shop, while Ms. Velasco or one of the other managers float through the whole property. When we do have three or more working the shop, we try to make everything easier and have a helper with every cashier.” I point to the two registers. “So if you’re on the register, I’ll be right next to you, packing things so that, as soon as the customer pays, I can hand them their package and keep the line moving.”

He cups his chin with his hand, his lips pursed. It’s a model move that makes me look away. How does he do it? How can someone be so attractive yet so utterly aggravating??

“Wouldn’t it be better if we just open up a second register?” He looks up at the ceiling, as if someone’s feeding him info from above. “Serving two in five minutes is better than serving one in four minutes, right? If you do the math…then in twenty minutes we serve eight customers rather than five.”

I shake my head, and a laugh bubbles out of me. Yeah, looks definitely don’t make up for attitude.

“You’re saying I’m wrong? I’m a whiz at math. Puzzles too.”

“No. Your algebra is right, but you’ve been here a day. How did you even estimate that it takes five minutes versus four minutes per customer? And you don’t know how much concentration it takes to pack up these items. Many of the things we sell are fragile. Besides, these are Ms. Velasco’s procedures, and we’ve been doing it this same way for years.”

    “But if everyone said that, then there wouldn’t be new inventions, trailblazers. Whistleblowers.”

“We are part-time employees in a gift shop, Teddy. And it’s time to open the doors.” I grit my teeth and refocus our conversation to the shadows of customers outside the front doors. This is a no-win situation, since Ms. Velasco is his aunt. She’s who he’ll need to contend with ultimately, not me.

“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes me with a sarcastic grin.

As he lumbers toward the front, I put my phone away. Above all, Ms. Velasco’s pet peeve is using our phones while working. But before I stick it under the counter, where a wireless charger sits, a notification from my blog lights up the screen: