“Excuse me.”
Emily turned around and smiled at the impatient-looking young woman who looked a couple of years younger than her standing in front of the cash register.
“Hi! How can I help you?” She had a vague recollection of serving the young woman.
“My frappe latte is not frapped enough. I am not satisfied at all, and for $4.15, I should really be satisfied with what I’ve ordered, don’t you think?” the young woman asked, gesturing with her drink in hand. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were narrowing at Emily.
Emily looked around and saw that Sharon wasn’t back from her break yet. “I am so sorry. I will get a new one done for you as soon as our barista’s back,” she said.
The woman’s brows furrowed. “Aren’t you the barista, too?”
“No. I’m not.”
“I saw you making my drink. Why di
