The next day was more of the same. Conor clocked in and began his shift with Cara showing him more of the ropes. The previous night had been trial by fire, so he picked up the skills quickly and was soon tossing dough in the air as Cara worked on topping ingredients.
Conor noticed several photos hung on a wall in the back as he went for more dough.
“Cara, what are these?”
Cara glanced around the oven and then shyly darted back to her prep station, “Oh, nothing, just some photos.”
“Of?”
“Places I want to go.”
“Who took them?”
“Mostly my uncle, but I took the local ones. He sent me his service journey from his deployment, with all these scenery photos from around the kingdom. Different places he was stationed. If I can ever save enough to go to explore… never mind. Get back to work.”
Conor tossed a dough ball into the air and let it drop next to Cara, who let out a squeak as the flour on the counter poofed into the air.
“Conor!” she half hissed, half giggled, slapping his arm. “WORK.”
“So, photography?” he said as he kneaded another dough.
“Yes, photography and the adventure of exploring new places. I want to travel. See the kingdom. And, if I can take photos along the way, all the better. How cool would it be to share an adventure like that with all the people who are just stuck here… like me… doing this?”
“I think it’s a worthy goal. I hope you’re able to make that happen.”
“And what about you, ‘Mr. son of the owner’? What are your goals beyond this pizza shop?”
Conor slammed dough onto the counter and kneaded it hard as he thought. “I am not the son, just the son-in-law.” He sighed, “I want to make a difference in people’s lives. My mother had a way of finding a critical moment in a person’s life that could change their entire future. She’d give a loaf of bread to a starving man who would return later as the town’s best baker, or she’d hand a coin to a man down on his luck, only to have him return years later as an investor who made millions and wanted to return the favor. I hope to be even a fraction of the person she was.”
Cara set a gentle hand on his shoulder, “She sounds amazing. The best part is, you don’t have to do or be anyone special to do what she did. You just have to act. Those small acts added up to huge moments. And you likely only saw the results of the big ones. I’m sure there were millions of small miracles too.”
Conor swiped at his cheek and sniffed, “See what you made me do?” He tried to laugh and return to his work.
A lady walked in at that moment and instantly began tapping the service bell. “Hello! Does anyone actually work here?”
“I’ve got this one,” Conor said. He slid to the register to find a lady with an A-line haircut glaring at him.
“It’s about time. Is everyone on break or something?” she demanded.
Conor shifted behind the register, doing his best to keep his smile in place, “I am sorry for any delay ma’am. What can I get for you today?”
“I am telling you, the service here is terribly slow. I have half a mind to call the owner.” came the haughty retort.
“Again, I am sorry ma’am. I am happy to take your order now,” Conor said, every muscle straining to maintain a smile. He had come over as soon as she walked up to the counter, what was her deal?
“Fine, I want a large pizza with pepperoni, sausage, and bacon. I want another with just feta and spinach.”
“Excellent. We actually have a special today for two large three-topping pizzas for 30% off the second pizza. So that will be-”
“I didn’t order two pizzas with three toppings, I ordered feta and spinach.”
“Right but this saves you money when I key it in as”-
“If you don’t want to work here, that’s fine. I want to talk to your manager if you can’t even ring up an order correctly.”
“Fine, ma’am. Just a second.” He turned and bellowed into the kitchen, “CARA!!!!”
Cara ran to the front, “What did you break now?” Conor leaned over and whispered what had happened. Cara just stared at him dumbly then lifted an eyebrow at the lady. “So you want this keyed in like so?” Cara tilted the screen toward the customer.
“Yes.”
“Ok, that full price order is 35 dragons.”
The lady balked at the price but paid and sat by the door to wait for her pizza.
Conor followed Cara to the back to make her pizza, “Was she serious?”
“You can’t fix stupid, Conor, so don’t even try. Just charge them the idiot tax and move on. They’re not worth our time.”
The doors entrance bell chimed and another customer came in. Conor greeted them and began ringing up their order.
“Two large pizzas, with bacon and pineapple and the other… lets get one of those feta and spinach.”
Conor smiled as he explained the current discount and began to input it.
“Thats awesome! Thank you for that!” the customer said excitedly.
“Your total is 24 dragons.”
“WHAT! But you charged me 35 Dragons! You cheat! I bet you just pocketed the money! I should call the owner! You know, I am good friends with him! He will see you both fired.” screamed the previous customer as she jumped to her feet in a huff.
Cara came over then and pointedly said, “Yes maam, I did charge you 35 dragons, which is the price of your meal. You chose to berate me and my co-workers when we tried to apply the discount for you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some pizzas to prepare!”
Conor suppressed a laugh as the lady stormed out the door, not even waiting for her pizzas.
As the night wore on, the crowd thinned to non-existent.
“Pops needs us to stay till close, but we're not likely to have any customers between now and then,” Cara explained. “Unless a ship is in port or some other event is drawing the crowd, we should be done for the night. Let's go ahead and start cleaning up.”
Conor began sweeping the front when a dirty-looking man walked in. He was clearly down on his luck with his hair not having been washed in several days, small bits of leaf matter clinging to the long locks. He had on what appeared to be several jackets, likely wearing everything he owned.
“Can I help you?”
“Sir, I will be straight with you. I don’t have money. But I really need some food. Any chance there is a pizza that was made by mistake or something planned to toss that I can have a slice of? I’m willing to work or help y’all clean.”
Conor glanced to Cara, who appeared to be nervous but sympathetic. “Pops isn’t going to like it, Conor. I mean I have some tip money I could spare but…”
“This is a moment, Cara.”
“Yes, but…” she looked at the man and finally relented. “I’ll split the cost with you, Conor. Pops doesn’t need to know.”
Conor turned to the man, “My name is Conor.” The man cautiously looked Conor's smile as if he had not had human enteraction in a while, “Parker. Parker Townson. I dont want to cause trouble for you two. If there is just a leftover pizza I am happy to eat that. If you have any work I can do, I will gladly help clean things in exchange.” “Well, Parker Townson, if you are serious about that, I do have some pans that need a deep clean in the back.” “Yes, yes of course!” “Cara, are you good to watch the front?” She nodded and watched Conor lead Parker to the washbasin in the back. Conor helped him take off layers of coat, hanging them on the staff coat rack. “After you wash up, I'll get you a slice. Then I'll show you the pans. I think we have a pizza or two that were never picked up that you can take with you when you're done. Deal?” “Thank you! Thank you so much!” Parker went to hug Conor but Conor smiled and pointed at the washbasin. “Perhaps after you wash up a bit more,” he chu
The next morning Conor slept in late. Jessica had not felt the need to rudely awaken him today, it seemed. Conor sighed. This extra sleep felt like a small birthday miracle. Though she could be cruel at times, Conor still liked her. He longed for her to have more faith in him. With a deep breath, he reminded himself that he had not given her much reason to believe in him. He walked out of his room to find some food from the kitchen before heading back to the GrizleHut. It seemed Mr. Cochan was intent on having him work daily to earn his keep or perhaps he just felt he could work Conor to death as cheap labor and Conor would not be able to complain if he wanted to save his marriage. Just then a knock sounded from the front door. ‘Odd, we don’t usually get visitors.’ Conor answered the door to find a finely dressed dark-skinned gentleman with short, cropped hair and a thin short goatee, wearing a full formal charcoal business suit and red tie. He appeared to be in his mid-thir
Conor arrived to find Pops counting out the till from last night. “Ah, umm, Conor. You are Mr. Cochan’s son-in-law, so I … I think I can trust you to be honest with this. Right?” He said hesitantly, handing Conor a bank bag with several thousand copper bills with the dragon emblem on it. “Take these to the bank, and deposit them for me.” As if he has finally decided, Pops added, “And I warn you, Conor! Don’t get lost on the way! Mr. Cochan will have the city guard after you in minutes if he learns you swindled his till money. And I swear to make sure you get a dose of my own brand of punishment if you make me look the fool in front of him!” “Yes sir.” Conor wasn’t thrilled about the task, but it got him out of the morning prep work. The bank held some humiliating memories for him. He couldn’t count the number of times he had visited Jinstain Bank and Trust in the past three years, only to be laughed out the doors. His most recent humiliation was his idea for selling socks in t
As Conor crossed in front of a spice shop next to the GrizlHut a mental hook pulled at his chest, causing him to step into the aromatic store and spend a second browsing the herbs. It was strange the desire to be in here, but it felt like somewhere he just need to be. His hand found a few dried seasonings including basil, oregano, rosemary, thyme, and marjoram. He couldn’t fathom what he might be able to do with them but headed back to the GrizlHut with his quick purchase. As he entered the back he saw Cara mixing a huge pot of fresh dough. Conor’s mouth went dry at the thought. He had tried the GrizlHut’s dough the other night and to say it was bland was an understatement. But according to Cara, Pops insisted that recipe was a staple that had been in his family for generations. ‘Generations of dead people with no tastebuds,’ Conor thought inwardly. After he clocked in, he set his bag down and returned the till pouch to Pops. “Go use your muscles for something useful and tak
Conor arrived home later again, to find the lights off in their small apartment. He sighed. Four years, and he and Jessica were no closer to having a real relationship. These new hours were not going to make that any easier either, not that she’d care. He drifted into an uneasy sleep. Dreams of wings beating the air as he drifts through warm air currents and floated through the clouds captivated his imagination. The next morning, he awoke to Jessica again wrenching the covers over his bed. “Up! Family meeting today.” She declared while looking at Conor with a disapproving frown. “What does that have to do with me? I thought most of the Cochan family preferred I never show my face around them.” Conor complained, desperately searching for any scrap of warm cloth he could find. “Isn't the twenty-fifth birthday of the faithful followers of Celia supposed to be symbolic? We are expecting a representative from the temple to deliver any inheritance to you.” Jess scorned. “What does
In the company board room, the Cochan family gathered around a small man in long brown robes. This was the newly appointed Dragon priest who had arisen to the post just a few days ago. The previous priest had died from old age, sadly. Conor’s mother had been the last true high priestess, with the current clergy seemingly unable to carry the same wisdom she had possessed. When Conor walked in, the priest perked up and immediately walked over to him. “Ah, brother Brantley! It is good to see you. I am sure you don’t remember me, but I served under your mother many years ago. She was a wise and honored priestess.” The monk even bowed to Conor, and Jessica’s whole family became tense. None of them liked seeing Conor praised. Mr. Cochan cleared his throat. “Hehem, Mr. Arios, we have gathered the family and now our beloved Conor is here. He is now of age to receive the blessing of the temple. What can you present?” Just then, Kelan Benedict walked in. “Sorry I am late.” Conor frowned.
As the weeks went by, Conor found himself eager to head to the GrizzlHut each day. Cara’s smile was so much more infectious and welcoming than the nagging he received at home from Jessica, or the outright abuse his mother-in-law, Cynthia Cochan, rained down on him. Cynthia seemed to think that Conor owed the family such a debt that he was now a family slave. She loved to order him around even in their apartment. Work at Grizlhut was definitely a welcome escape! One day, Cara and Conor were both scheduled to be off by 4 p.m. “Got any plans this afternoon?” Conor asked. “Yes, actually. Matter of fact… you should come. I think it would be right up your alley.” “What is it?” “You’ll just have to wait and see. At the end of the shift, Cara had Conor ride with her, and they drove to a run-down part of town. Kids were playing basketball in the street, and jumping rope. “What is this place?” “It’s what’s left of the Jinstain Community Center. The Temple of Celia funded it up until
It seemed Kelan Benedict's warning had opened the Cochan family's eyes to the possibility of Jessica's potential, especially as a peace offering to Kelan. Over the past few weeks, Cynthia had suggested divorce from Conor more than once. Each time Mr. Cochan was away on business, Cynthia would invade their apartment and try to broach the topic with Jessica. Jessica, however, staunchly refused to be a trophy for Kelan. But Conor knew deep down that it was not out of love for him that she clung to their marriage, but simple fear of Kelan. One night, during one of Cynthia’s invasions of their apartment, she ordered, “Conor, be quick and finish the dishes and get out! Jessica and I have things to discuss.” As Conor dejectedly took to his task, he heard his wife start in on an old refrain. “Mother, let me marry Nyman, and then I will consider divorcing Conor,” Jessica pleaded, still feeling like she was walking on eggshells with her mother. “Silly girl, the Banks family could never s