The Devine Doughnut Shop(2)

Grace shook her head. “Oh, no, little girl. You don’t get to sit around and do nothing. See that bucket over there? Your first job is to go clean the windows, and after we close up, you get to mop the floors. You will work all during your spring break for what you’ve done.”

“Good grief, Mama,” her daughter whined. “I could break a nail, or someone might see me cleaning windows or mopping.”

“Honey, that’s the least of your worries. Starting tonight, we aren’t going to clean the dining area after work. You will be getting up and coming to work with us at three o’clock in the morning. From then until five, you will mop the floors, clean all the glass, wash dishes, and do whatever else needs to be done until we close the doors.”

“No!” Audrey crossed her arms over her chest. “Getting up at that ungodly hour is child abuse!”

“Maybe so, but that’s what you’ll be doing,” Grace told her.

“I hate you,” Audrey whispered.

The air in the shop seemed too heavy to breathe. Then Grace got a second wind and smiled at her daughter. “Well, darlin’, I love you every second of every day, but today I don’t like you so much. I wouldn’t call it hate. It’s more like mild aggravation at your choices this past year. With every choice comes a consequence. Your choice to hide cigarettes and booze for your friends means getting up at three o’clock every morning and working right here in the shop with me all through your spring break.”

Audrey drew in a long breath and let it out in a huff. “I might as well be in prison.”

“Shh . . .” Grace shushed her and held out her hand. “I wasn’t finished. Your phone, please.”

“What? Why?” Audrey sat up a little straighter. “You can’t go through my phone. That’s an invasion of my privacy.”

“I pay the bill on it, so legally, it is my phone, and since you hate me . . .” Grace shrugged. “I won’t pay an expensive phone bill for anyone who hates me, so give me your phone.”

“No!” Audrey raised her voice.

“All right,” Grace said. “Have it your way.” She pulled her own cell phone from her pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and went back to work. “Get busy, girl. There were a bunch of little kids and fishermen with grimy hands in here just before closing yesterday, and the display cases and windows need shined up.”

“I hate to do windows,” Audrey complained.

“We do, too, and we’re really glad you’re in trouble and have to help us,” Grace told her.

Audrey stood up and pulled her phone from the hip pocket of her jeans. She hit the screen several times but nothing happened. Then she whipped around to glare at her mother. “What did you do?”

“Remember when I gave you that phone for your thirteenth birthday?” Grace asked in a calm tone, even though she was anything but that inside. “I had two apps put on it: One that tells me where you are, always. The other is so I can turn the phone off whenever I want. I’ll turn it back on at the end of spring break if I feel you have learned to show some respect.”

“That’s not fair,” Audrey sputtered. “I can’t believe you are interfering with my privacy.”

Grace held out a hairnet. “Fair is in the eye of the beholder—or in this case, the one that pays the phone bill. Put this on and get busy.”

Audrey continued to glare at Grace as she pulled her tangled hair up into a ponytail and took a few slow steps toward the utility room.

“Just a minute, kiddo.” Grace shook the hairnet at her. “You forgot your hairnet. If an inspector comes in, we could lose our license, so put it on.”

Audrey gasped. “What if one of my friends comes in?”

“Then they’ll see you wearing a net and shining windows,” Grace answered.

Audrey put the thing on but left the blue strand of hair hanging out the side. She turned her back on her mother and opened the small utility room.

Grace tapped Audrey on the shoulder and didn’t even flinch when the girl turned around and gave her another dirty look. “All of your hair goes under the net—and if it falls out while you are working, I’ll either confiscate your tablet and computer when we go home or you can cut that blue streak off at your scalp. Your choice. And, darlin’, I love you. This hurts me as much as it does you.”

“I hate this place, and I’ll sell it when I inherit it,” she spat. “And when I’m out of this godforsaken town, I’m going to get a belly ring and a tattoo. I don’t know why I can’t have one now. Crystal has a butterfly on her shoulder and Kelsey has a rose, and they both have belly button piercings. The only thing we have alike is our blue streaks.”

“When I don’t pay your bills anymore, you can do whatever you want. And, darlin’, who says you’ll inherit it?” Grace asked. “Macy is getting married in three months. Her children may be the ones that we name when we make up our will. The blue stuff in the spray bottle is for cleaning the glass, and use paper towels to wipe it off. Don’t leave streaks.”

Audrey mumbled under her breath as she headed inside the utility room, grabbed the cleanser and paper towels, and headed for the dining room in a huff.

“That was some badass tough love,” Sarah whispered and then turned to Macy. “Are you sure you want to have kids after seeing this?”