A few seconds later, a more mature woman hurriedly came out from the back of the store. She moved with a sense of urgency and a somewhat kind grace, her well-tailored suit and composed demeanor immediately giving off an air of authority. The younger attendant from earlier followed closely behind her, balancing a silver tray holding a cup of tea and a neatly arranged croissant.
The woman stopped in front of me, offering a warm but apologetic smile. “Good afternoon, Mrs Caruso,” she said. “I’m Tiffany, the owner of the store. I sincerely apologize for the delay in attending to you.”
I blinked, surprised by the introduction, and *Mrs Caruso*? You've got to be kidding. I hadn’t expected to meet the actual owner of the store. "Oh, it’s fine," I replied, as I extended my hand. “Mrs Caruso? Di
