The woman planning her parents' anniversary came in at three carrying a folder.
Eva saw it and thought, for a moment, that there might be a booking form inside. Then the woman sat down and took out a photograph of a room Eva didn't recognise.
“We've decided on this place,” she said. “My parents went to their wedding lunch there. My mother remembered it yesterday.”
Eva looked at the photograph. A big window, wide tables, a terrace.
“It looks lovely.”
“Your plan was lovely too.”
“Thank you.”
The woman put Eva's printed email beside the photograph. She had drawn a circle round the suggested seating.
“Their manager will sort the food. But I need help with the rest. Who's coming when, getting everyone into the right place, making sure my father doesn't spend the whole evening at the end of a table he can't hear.”
Eva leaned forward. “They don't do that?”
“They'll put out what I ask for. I need somebody to help me know what to ask for.”
Eva looked through the pages. The woman had three different lists, with some names on all three and some on only one. She was embarrassed by them.
“It's all got a bit large,” she said.
“We can make one list.”
“Would you? For a fee, obviously. I'm not asking you to do it as a favour.”
Eva's eyes went back to her own email. It had cost her a horrible phone call and an hour of work. She had expected, at best, to repair the chance of a booking for Will.
“I work here,” she said.
“Yes. I thought you might do this on a day off. If you can't, say so.”
Eva thought about the weeks ahead. She hadn't agreed to any different hours. Her work was still here. An afternoon at another place could still be hers.
“I can meet you there on Tuesday morning,” she said. “Then I'll tell you what I can do and what it'll cost. We should see the room first.”
The woman smiled and shut the folder. “Good. I'd like that.”
Eva wrote the time on a clean piece of paper for her. She didn't touch the café's bookings book.
After she left, Eva stood beside the table with the photograph the woman had given her. It was only a room. Nothing had begun yet. Even so, she could picture herself there, walking round the tables, asking ordinary questions, being paid for the answers she found.
Will came out of the kitchen.
“Did she book?”
“No. She's using another venue.”
His shoulders dropped. “Pity.”
“She's asked me to help plan it.”
He smiled. “Look at you.”
Eva smiled back. “She liked the plan.”
“Of course she did.”
Then he looked at the paper in her hand.
“Hang on. Where would you do that?”
“There. And at home, I suppose. I'm meeting her on Tuesday.”
“Tuesday's usually your morning here.”
“I can swap it. If that doesn't work, I'll give her another time.”
His smile had gone. “We haven't even opened the evenings yet.”
“I'm not abandoning you. It's one event.”
“And what if it becomes more?”
She paused. “Then we'd talk about my hours.”
Will took the photograph from her and looked at it. “So now you do want fewer.”
“I want to decide.”
He handed it back.
“I was trying to help you this morning.”
“By promising my job to Nora?”
“You keep making it sound worse than it is.”
“Tell me what it is, then.”
He looked through the glass door. Nora was making coffee, facing away from them.
“Can we talk later? Away from here?”
Eva looked at the photograph, then at him.
“Yes. But we are talking.”
He nodded and touched her hand. She let him. Yesterday she would have leaned towards him without thinking. Today she had to decide to keep her hand still.