Free Tragic Toppings by Jessica Beck Page A

focus on the work we had to do before we could open. “Nonsense, don’t worry about it. Come on, this could be fun.”
    “Thanks for letting me off the hook,” she answered, the relief obvious in her voice.
    “You know what? As far as I’m concerned, this might be a blessing in disguise. After all, the whole purpose of the ad was to drive folks into the store, and if this doesn’t do it, I don’t know what will. Let’s make it a good day, no matter what, okay?”
    “That sounds great,” she said, and we dove into work.
    *   *   *
    “Is it always this crowded in here?” a new customer asked as he finally made his way to the counter so he could order. He was middle-aged, and from his girth, I was pretty sure he’d never passed up a free donut in his life, let alone eleven of them. If I had to guess, I would say that the dollar would just about cover our expenses for the exotic coffee blend, but I was afraid the donuts would be on the house. Emma had suggested switching to a less expensive coffee when we realized what had happened, but I wasn’t about to disappoint anyone if I could help it. I had to admit one thing. If the ad’s purpose had been to bring folks into Donut Hearts, it was a rousing success. I’d brought my recipe book up front so I could go over a new donut I’d been thinking about offering, but I hadn’t even had time to glance at it. The place had been hopping with customers since we’d opened, and for one of the few times since I’d owned the shop, I had a line before I even unlocked my door. We were moving a great deal of donuts and coffee, but I honestly didn’t have a clue where we stood financially. I had hoped that we wouldn’t lose too much, although as far as mistakes went, it could have been a great deal worse, and I wasn’t about to make any more donuts than we already had. When we were out, we were out, and there wouldn’t be any rain checks, which a few customers had already asked about.
    I looked at the man who was clutching a dollar bill in his fist and said, “Are you kidding? This is a slow day.” I added the last bit on a whim, fighting to keep a straight face as I said it.
    “Wow, I’m impressed,” he answered as he looked around.
    Not a chair or stool was empty, and several folks were standing along the windows and the walls. I’d made one change to our offering; it was now dine-in only. At least that way we didn’t have to cater to every office within a hundred-mile radius. No one really seemed to mind once I explained what had happened, and it did make the shop a place full of laughter and smiles. Many of my customers kept their free eleven down to one or two extra, but a few insisted on the full dozen for the price of one. Those folks I made eat at the counter, and more than a few gave up after five or six. My rule became if they ordered, but couldn’t eat, the dozen donuts and drink all of the coffee, they had to pay for every extra they ate, so that took care of the rest of them.
    I couldn’t let this customer think that I’d been telling the truth earlier. I explained, “I’m just kidding. This is Take-a-Chance Tuesday. We had Rainbow donuts, but we ran out of them hours ago. You can take your pick of what we have left. When we ran out of Thunder coffee, we switched to Harmony, and now we’re serving Star-shine. I’m afraid when that’s gone, it’s back to our regular blends.” Emma loved to give her coffees exotic names, and I liked that it added a little mystery to our selections on Tuesday.
    “I’ll take one special, and you can pick out two donuts for me,” he said as he slid the dollar across the counter to me. Initially I’d been charging tax to push it over a dollar, but one high roller had come in and tipped me a fifty to cover everyone’s tax for the day. It was a sweet gesture, and I’d returned it with two dozen donuts, which he gladly accepted in return, laughing as he said that they could have only cost him a couple of