Page 19 of Snowed Inn
“You?”
“Excuse me?” I plant my hands on my hips.
“Miss New York City PR professional is running a small-town bakery?”
“Yep,” I say proudly. “And I’m going to be fabulous at it. Plus, I thought we established last night that I’m not some spoiled rich girl.”
Jesse looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh again or pray. “Okay, but do you know how to use the POS?” he finally asks.
Why is everyone obsessed with POS systems?
“I watched a video,” I inform him, with the clipped tone of someone who’s done her homework.
His smirk deepens.
“Uh-huh. And which video was that?”
I huff. “One for a POS. Not this one specifically.” I splay my hand toward the system.
Jesse shakes his head, muttering something about rookies, then gestures toward the screen. “Move over. I’ll show you.”
I don’t argue. This is serious. The last thing I want to do is screw up Sera’s business.
As it turns out, Jesse is a surprisingly good teacher.
He walks me through the basics—how to enter orders, apply discounts, and not accidentally wipe the entire system (which is apparently a thing).
By the time ten a.m. rolls around, I’m semi-confident. Emphasis on the semi.
Jesse leans on the counter. “I can stick around until the brewery opens at eleven. You know, in case you—”
“Yes. Stay,” I say immediately. I sound more desperate than I would like but I may have gotten in a little over my head here.
His brows shoot up. “Ah, so there is something you admit to not knowing how to do?”
I give him a look. “I choose to accept help.” The words land with crisp, deliberate emphasis.
“Right.” He straightens. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Okay. Okay. I like that he seems to have faith in me. He’s not giving me shit. It’s an improvement since last night. And, damn it, I can do this!
The first transaction? Total disaster.
Jesse has to step in before I accidentally charge a guy $1,500 for a cinnamon roll.
The second sale? Slightly better. If agonizingly slow.
I enter everything myself—one painful tap after another—while Jesse says, “Good job!” like I’m a toddler using a spoon for the first time.
The third? Flawless.
By noon, I’m running this bakery like a pro.
At one, El texts.
EL: how u doing?
ME: great! no problems here. how do u feel?
