A few months had slipped by unnoticed, and now Beth's impending retirement loomed just a few short days away. For her, the time was dragging on, but for most of the others, it was going by far too fast. Since her initial encounter with Chuck, Beth's hair had grown considerably. It was fuller and healthier, cascading down to her thighs in a tangle of unruly strands. Surveying the tangled mass now, she determined that a haircut was long overdue.
Turning to Justice, Beth temporarily promoted her to a hairdresser and tasked her with taking care of the unruly mop that now rested upon her head. Beth expressed her desire for a trim, indifferent to matters of style. For Justice, this was nothing short of a dream come true. Not that she aspired to cut Beth's hair, but she was asked to perform the deed, which, above all else, meant that Beth trusted her to do so. With amateur hands, Justice set to work, envisioning a shorter, more manageable hairstyle for her idol. By the time the impromptu haircutting session drew to a close, Beth's locks had been shorn to a length just grazing her ears. "What do you think?" Justice asked. The doubt in her voice was evident.
"Hm," Beth stared in the mirror, gently shaking her hairdo from side to side and running her fingers through it. "I like it; it's surprisingly chic. Thanks, Jus." It was true; it looked good. Perhaps Justice had a hidden talent for cutting hair, or maybe she was blessed by Lady Luck, and everything magically turned out well. Time will tell.
"Hey, would you look at that?" Arvid walked in and laid his makeshift toolbox on the counter. "The short-do is very fitting on you, boss—not to mention practical."
"Practical? How so?" Beth asked, still admiring her hair in the mirror.
"Shorter hair is more combat-friendly. Less for the scallywags you're squaring up against to grab hold of, you know?" He explained.
"You're not wrong," Beth responded, kind of brushing off the remark, having seen far more skirmishes than her resident handyman.
"Say, kid—how about a little shape-up for your pal, Arvid?" He climbed up into the chair. Justice looked at Beth, who looked at the both of them.
"Um—are you sure?" Justice had a bit of a tremble in her voice.
Before Arvid could answer, he caught Beth locking eyes with him. It was like she was telepathically telling him that if he yelled at that little girl, Beth would have his hide. She didn't have to say a word; Arvid understood.
"Relax," Arvid sat back. "If you mess it up, it'll grow back. I grow hair faster than rabbits, mate." Justice looked at him with a confused expression. "Oh—uh—it'll grow back before you know it. Have at it, kid. Do me up like some edgy bard star or something."
"If you insist," Justice stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth and went to work on the sweaty little red-headed man.
After Justice finished, it became a little clearer that she did indeed possess a unique talent for cutting hair. Arvid, while still the surly, cranky little man everyone knew and loathed (lovingly, of course), admitted to never looking as good as he did after the trim. The young girl was elated that everyone appreciated her work, and her day was only about to get better.
True to her word, Beth treated Justice to a special outing, whisking her away to a tattoo artist to fulfill her long-held desire for a heart-shaped tattoo. Overwhelmed with emotion, Justice couldn't help herself from tearing up over what the moment meant to her.
Arriving at "Venom's Ink," a name that held a nostalgic ring despite it not being the same establishment Beth had frequented in years past. After a few minorly painful moments, the fresh ink had been implemented, and Beth's promise to Justice had been fulfilled. However, they were met with an unexpected sight upon their return home.
Crest Town was abuzz with activity, throngs of people flooding the streets in a jubilant celebration of Beth's impending retirement. The crowd swelled to unprecedented proportions, dwarfing the town itself and spilling over into neighboring areas. To accommodate the influx of revelers, mobile food bars from "Ancient Moon Espresso" had been stationed at the town's perimeter, ensuring that no one went hungry amidst the festivities.
The realization struck Beth like a bolt from a storm cloud, leaving her momentarily stunned among the sea of faces and fluttering banners. As she scanned the crowd in amazement, Beth found herself at a loss, her gaze thwarted by the multitude of people who had turned up for her retirement. Unbeknownst to her, amidst the crowd, whispers of recognition rippled through the air, drawing curious glances and requests for autographs from eager admirers, people she had served food to for years. Though taken aback by the sudden attention, Beth graciously obliged.
Suddenly, a pair of familiar arms enveloped her in a warm embrace from behind, and Beth's senses reeled as she recognized the comforting touch of Harper. Bewildered by the commotion, she turned to her friend, seeking an explanation for the impromptu celebration. "Did you do all this?"
"Pretty much. I had some help, though, of course," Harper kissed her on the crown of her head. "This is the celebration of your last days, sweetie!" The whole thing sucked the air right out of Beth's lungs, and she was pleasantly overwhelmed.
For some inexplicable reason, Beth had never entertained the notion that such a grand celebration would be orchestrated in her honor. Yet, despite her disbelief, Harper had taken it upon herself to spread the word far and wide, ensuring that the townsfolk rallied together to commemorate Beth's retirement.
It was gestures like these that had initially endeared Harper to Beth, kindling a deep admiration that bordered on affection. However, beneath the surface of her gratitude lurked a nagging fear of disappointing her boss and friend. The dynamics of their relationship—employer and employee—cast a shadow of doubt over Beth's ability to live up to Harper's expectations—and vice versa—a fear exacerbated by the weight of responsibility that came with running the White Moon Café.
The realization of Harper's efforts left Beth grappling with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, her exhaustion amplified by the overwhelming swell of gratitude and confusion. Could this be another wild dream? No—of course not—sometimes the dreams, nightmares, felt so real, but this—she was certain, was most definitely a live moment in reality. Despite the swell of sentiment threatening to engulf her, Beth maintained a stoic facade, suppressing the tumultuous sea of feelings raging within. "How—" Was all Beth could mutter, to which her friend happily explained.
Behind the scenes, Harper had meticulously laid the groundwork for the celebration, rallying support from neighboring towns and enlisting the aid of fellow chefs and café owners. In a matter of months, what had once been a fleeting idea had blossomed into a full-fledged plan, complete with flyers, letters, and coordinated efforts with the Ancient Moon franchise.
What Beth didn't know was Harper had been in contact with Vitrious Vaughn, the current CEO of Ancient Moon Inc. Ancient Moon had various food carts all over the inhabitable regions, ranging from espresso stops all the way to fish stick nooks on the northern islands. People generally enjoyed their localized menu options, but the food always lacked that 'home-cooked touch.' Regardless, that didn't stop Vitrious Vaughn and all who held the chair before her from raking in millions. For AMI, the secret has always been playing to their strengths. In ritzy, upscale cities like New Vega, you'll find AMI food carts selling caviar and exotic cheese spreads. Even the ketchup in New Vega will set a customer back six times what you'll pay in the financially challenged regions—and the famous red sauce is the exact same regardless of which AMI cart is selling it. Beth heard a rumor long ago that the carts in New Vega make so much coin from the ketchup that they could virtually give it away for free at every other store, and they wouldn't lose any money on it.
In the southeast region of Palestone, a town where the highest paying job is wrangling frogs from the surrounding swamps, Ancient Moon has their cheapest cart. Selling lemongrass soup, grilled leeks, fried frog fritters, and rat kebabs to the severely underclassed at dirt-cheap prices allows them to hold a market in one of the most unstable economies on the planet. To a lot of people, AMI is a conglomerate powerhouse with capitalistic views. Still, since Vitrious took over, she has put a lot of money back into the communities that helped build the company that existed far before her. Needless to say, Ancient Moon may not be well-loved by everyone, but due to the recent changes implemented by Vaughn, the newer generations view the corporation in a different light. Whether or not their capitalistic intentions still force them to walk a thin line between making some coin and destroying the competition is unknown.
Regardless, that didn't make it any easier for Harper to tell Beth about the secret meet-up she had with Ancient Moon Inc., with Vitrious, no less. It started the day after Beth fell into a coma. Harper had to step up eventually, as the café would soon be her baby; little did she know that time was closer than she thought. Harper had only been reminded that she'd be the one in charge of it all almost daily, starting about half a year before Chuck came into the picture. But on this day, spirits around the café were exceptionally low, and the timing couldn't have been any worse. That didn't stop a scout from AMI from turning up on their doorstep. It was a sniveling, little, greasy man dressed in a formal suit—like one you'd see around the big city, not in a place like Crest Town.
"Hello, Love—my name is Mister Phil Murdle," he said, grabbing Harper's hand and attempting to kiss it. She yanked it back so fast that the four-and-a-half-foot tall man nearly fell flat on his face right at her feet. Harper explained how now wasn't a good time, and while she expected Mr. Murdle to push his motive anyway, he humbly apologized and asked if she'd be willing to meet with his boss, Miss Vaughn, at a later date. Harper was still reeling over Beth's situation but reluctantly agreed—setting the meet-up for the following day. After the balding, strange, sweaty businessman left, Harper instantly regretted her decision and considered canceling—but she ultimately decided against it, hoping Beth would wake up by tomorrow and handle things like usual. Harper wasn't against handling business by any means, but if the CEO of AMI wanted to meet with the White Moon Café owner, that could only mean one thing: they wanted something big. Even though Harper wasn't officially in charge, she was the interim boss while their fearless leader was out.
That night, Harper racked her brain. Everything under the sun was on her mind. Beth's condition, this meeting with Vitrious Vaughn, the crew that she would soon be in charge of, the future of the café, and, of course, the feelings for her boss that she felt obligated to suppress even though it was pretty clear at times. It was also quite obvious that Beth reciprocated these feelings, at least to most of the crew, but Harper wasn't so sure, a trait she accredits to her stern upbringing.
Now Harper stood with her arm around Beth, enjoying the festivities post-recovery, looking at the long line at the Ancient Moon Espresso cart. It was very nice of them to offer funding for a large portion of the celebrations. She couldn't help but think what would happen to the White Moon if she hadn't cut that deal with Vaughn. Hopefully, once she let Beth in on the truth, Beth wouldn't cut Harper out of her life. She'd never do that, Harper thought—would she?
The memory of her encounter with Vaughn was still very fresh in her mind. She could even remember the pleasant perfume Vitrious wore to the meeting. It was the perfect blend of lavender and sandalwood with a hint of jasmine. Harper knew because she nervously told the AMI CEO she smelled nice, which warranted the description of her perfume as a response. Harper had never seen Vitrious Vaughn before, only heard of her, but she was a vision—tall, with curves that caught the eye in all the right ways. Her makeup was expertly applied, giving her a natural radiance that could fool the unsuspecting. But Harper knew better. Her golden blonde hair cascaded in a casually elegant bun, catching the light like spun silk. Clad in a navy blue bodysuit with delicate sky-blue pinstripes, it accentuated her figure flawlessly. Her lips were a deep, inviting red, framing a pair of captivating blue eyes that chilled Harper to the bone, like staring into ice. And there was that strange brooch. At first, Harper was nervous, but the feeling quickly dissipated.
"Harper, right?" she asked, extending her hand. "Murdle told me you were cute, but he left out stunning and absolutely gorgeous."
Harper felt herself blushing. Before she answered, the brooch Vitrious was wearing glowed for just a second, and suddenly she felt at ease. More comfortable than she should have been in this situation, which caught her off guard. "I could say the same about you."
Miss Vaughn smiled, "Oh, please—I haven't had my hair done in weeks; I probably look ragged." She put her hand on Harper's shoulder and laughed.
Great, she's one of those types, Harper thought. She could easily be the prettiest girl at the entire ball but still claim that she looked like a trainwreck—which was the furthest thing from the truth. "Do you uh—do you want to go down to the office?"
"Here is fine if it's all the same to you," Vitrious held her arm out, leading Harper to the bar. "I don't see any reason this meeting has to be so formal. I just had some ideas about the café and Crest Town—who better to bounce them off of than the most successful eating establishment in the area?" The brooch glowed again for just a second.
"Well, when you put it like that," Harper found the words coming effortlessly, but even weirder, she found it hard to focus on anything but the AMI CEO, who was now sitting in the same spot as one of the White Moon regulars. Even thinking about Beth, who lay in a coma just downstairs, only fluttered in and out of her mind. How bizarre.
"This really is a fantastic establishment you all have here. Speaking of everyone, you do co-own this with a partner correct? Beth, right?"
Harper tried to figure out how she knew that. Then it dawned on her the AMI CEO would possess access to virtually whatever information she wanted—their ownership history, which was no secret, would be easy to learn, especially if she just asked around town. "Well, to be honest, Beth put everything together that you see here. She's getting ready to retire and travel the world so it's becoming my pride and joy next." Harper couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. She was typically guarded but here she was, just info dropping to a beautiful stranger, which was severely out of her character. But she couldn't help it; Vitrious had some allure to her that Harper couldn't explain. It felt—it felt—comforting.
"Is the soon-to-be-retired around? I'd love to meet her as well," Miss Vaughn looked around the empty room, but it was just the two of them. The brooch glowed again.
"She's a bit under the weather and relegated to bed rest."
"Ah, that makes sense. Murdle informed me that you mentioned the timing of our arrival to be less than ideal. I do apologize for that. And while I am very much enjoying your company," she paused and batted her long eyelashes.
"We're enjoying—I mean, I'm enjoying your company also," Harper stuttered. Her eyes dropped from Vitrious' gaze down to the radiating brooch.
"Good! Very good! However, I can read a room, and I know you must have a bunch of work to do around here with your boss taking ill and the festival among us."
The festival! How could Harper forget? She had initially reached out to Ancient Moon months ago about lending some carts to the festivities. That's how she got the information.
"Yes, I—"
"Just know that I prefer to wine and dine potential partner prospects and get to know them a little better, but to be honest, my schedule will have me miles from here within the coming weeks, and I would rather do this proposal in person."
"Proposal?" Harper couldn't hide the shocked expression.
"Just as I am well aware of the success the White Moon Café has in Crest Town, I'm sure you are equally aware of the success of Ancient Moon Inc. on a global scale?"
Was that some sort of backhanded compliment? Staring at the brooch for a moment convinced her that it wasn't. Harper scoffed, "Are you kidding me? Who doesn't know about Ancient Moon? I practically lived on the stuff until I started working here—you guys have carts everywhere."
"Everywhere is a bit of a stretch, but we do try. It's our goal to provide localized, affordable food to all inhabitable regions. If we have to prod a few extra coins out of the rich to help feed the poor, then so be it. Those yuppies lose more money in a day than some demographics earn in a month. Sorry—I spoke out of line."
"No apology needed. I couldn't agree more. Starve the rich to feed the poor."
"Yes. Anyway, the point is that we don't have a permanent cart here in Crest Town."
Harper knew that, but anytime big festivals were around, the occasional AMI cart would pass through and set up shop for a day, too, so it wasn't like it was super rare to see them around. "You want to set up a permanent store? Here? In Crest Town?"
Vitrious instantly saw the worry on Harper's face. She briefly touched her brooch, which radiated the warm magenta glow once again. Staring at the immaculate piece of jewelry, Harper felt her worry slowly fade. "Yes and no," Miss Vaughn said with a smile.
"Oh."
"Okay, that response is a little confusing; I apologize. I know AMI has had a rather capitalistic, cutthroat approach to conducting business in the past, but that's not a business model I'm keen to uphold."
"Well, that's good," Harper agreed.
"Yes, I thought so, too. And while those who came before me would likely come in here with every intent to steal the customer base that you built, I would sooner embrace and bolster your hard work. The reputation I've heard about the White Moon and its staff, it's clear you are all a dedicated bunch of people—family if you will."
"A dysfunctional family at times, but a family nonetheless," Harper agreed.
"So, instead of moving in on your territory, which would be ignorant on my behalf and stressful on yours—I'd like to propose a partnership instead."
"Thanks. But I don't think we're interested," Harper flashed a forced smile but was once again drawn to the magenta brooch. "However, I don't want to seem rude and not even hear out your terms." What? Where did those words come from?
"Fantastic! I appreciate your willingness to hear me out. And I know what you must be thinking. AMI is going to come in here, acting all friendly, building a repertoire with the locals, and then eventually shuffle you all out—but that is not the case. In fact, it's far from it."
"Of course," Harper said, somewhat against her will.
"Being a seasoned businesswoman, such as yourself, I'm going to spare you the pitch and get right down to the brass tax."
"Okay," Harper couldn't find herself doing anything but agreeing.
"AMI is willing to pay 20% of your inventory costs, 75% of maintenance, and 60% of your staff pay, based on total income. In turn, the other 40% of your monthly earnings will go to AMI. There will also be a small mandatory kicker of 10% of the previous month's income upfront at the start of the following month. This partnership fee will be waived in the first month as a show of good faith toward our growing relationship. You'll also receive sizeable bonuses from time to time, with a minimum of four annually."
Harper didn't know what to say. Her mind was fogged up, and all the numbers and percentages didn't help. "Um, well—"
Suddenly, Arvid popped up from behind the counter with a hammer and his toolbelt on. He looked at Harper with a disappointing glint in his eye. "Hey. I couldn't help but overhear the uh—the proposal, as you called it."
"Oh! Hello. And you are?"
"Arvid. I'm the handyman and sometimes grill cook."
Harper chuckled, "By sometimes grill crook, he means sometimes he can do it; other times he's bricking everything."
"Ha-ha," Arvid mocked her unapologetically. "Can I have a moment with my comrade, Miss uh—?"
"Vaughn. Vitrious Vaughn. AMI CE—"
"Yeah, the shot caller at Ancient Moon—got it. One moment," Arvid grabbed Harper's hand and led her into the kitchen.
"What are you—"
"Are you really thinking about taking this offer? Without Beth's approval or opinion, no less? Not even talking to any of us about it?"
The last thing Harper wanted to do was get scolded by Arvid, of all people. "First of all, this is a decision that doesn't concern you. Secondly, I had no idea this proposal was going to be dumped on my lap today. I guess part of me just thought this meeting had something to do with my request for AMI carts for the festival—or something. I don't know!"
Arvid glared at her with a disconcerting eye. "Well…" he said in a tone that insinuated he had more to add.
"Well, what?"
"I don't think it's a horrible idea, all things considered," Arvid twirled his bright reddish-orange mustache.
"What do you mean?"
"I see this going one of two ways. One, we agree to the partnership and see where it goes—put it on our terms. Or two, we decline and make an enemy out of AMI. Surely, we'd be buried in a matter of months."
Harper didn't want to admit it, but Arvid was probably right. Vitrious came across as kind-hearted, but given the track record of Ancient Moon Inc., foul play wasn't out of the question, shall they end up going head-to-head for the Crest Town clientele. "Okay, so you think I should take the deal?"
"I think you should counter-offer. Nobody leads with their best deal when it comes time to barter." Arvid explained his piece to Harper, and the two of them reentered the main room after a few minutes of conferencing amongst themselves.
Vitrious was looking at all the knickknacks and artwork that adorned the walls of the café. "You know, I gotta' say—Ancient Moon has countless food carts, but none of them quite capture the charm like this café."
"We're okay with AMI covering 20% of our inventory costs, but we want 100% of maintenance covered—not 75. As far as staffing goes, we want AMI to cover 75% based on total income but 80% on holidays and festivals. The remaining 25% of profits will go to you, as well as the mandatory kicker of 10% of the previous month's income. Four annual bonuses, minimum, are also agreeable." Harper delivered her demands like an experienced haggler.
"Deal." Vitrious extended her hand.
"Really?" Harper's eyes widened.
"And as for the name," Arvid quickly added.
"We're adamant about the café keeping its name. We would require a small change to your logo, however. AMI would like Ancient Moon presents: White Moon Café to be on the sign out front as well as the menus. We'll pay for all branding changes, and I assure you, our name will be much smaller than the original; you'll hardly notice it. We don't want to tarnish or disrupt the heritage and culture surrounding everything you've accomplished here." And that was that. That was the deal Harper struck with AMI. Not only was it the first significant deal she made without Beth, but it was also the biggest decision anyone had made regarding the White Moon Café since its inception.
Seeing Beth enjoying the festival and the happy look on her face made it even harder for Harper to tell Beth what she had done. I'll tell her later—tomorrow, perhaps—Harper thought. While Harper dwelled on her secret, a striking figure stood out in the large crowd, calmly observing her surroundings from a fixed position. Despite her composed demeanor, her attire exuded a modern gothic vibe reminiscent of an old-timey witch with a youthful complexion. She sported a large, almost cartoonishly oversized witch's hat paired with edgy punk boots. Even though she stood out, nobody paid her much attention. Everyone was too busy enjoying the festival and the brand-new pizza being sold from one of the Ancient Moon carts. An eye-catching, delicious-looking pizza with cheese made from the milk of grass-fed Bosta goats. The crust was crunchy yet fluffy and made from Windholly wheat grains, which wasn't particularly common in Crest Town. Though the witchy woman appeared nonchalant, beneath the surface, she was anything but unfazed. With a subtle gesture, she activated a Realmstone, disappearing in a blink of an eye. Only one witness caught this astonishing display, Justice. But with a town full of strangers and lots of celebrating going on, it wasn't long before she sorted it to the back of her mind—at least for the time being. Generally, the White Moon staff was relegated to working the café for these kinds of celebrations, but seeing as how they were kind of the center of attention, Justice was more enthralled by the festival—having only ever taken part in two her entire life—and this one was by far the biggest.
Meanwhile, Pax couldn't resist the allure of the pizza and ordered two large pies for himself, fully intending to indulge. As he settled in at a nearby picnic table, a formidable figure approached—a towering beast of a woman donning light fur and leather armor. Her hair was dreaded and adorned with multiple gems and beads. The woman's smirk was evident as she eyed Pax's sizeable order. "Hungry, aren't we?"
"Always," he quipped with a snort.
"You really think you can handle all that?" she fired back.
Pax grinned confidently, undeterred by the challenge. "Absolutely! This is just an appetizer."
"I see," the woman disappeared around the corner for a moment.
Arvid admired the delectable pizza pies sitting before him. They smelled and looked amazing. "This is going to be so good!" He took a big gulp from his mug of root beer and carefully pulled the first slice from the pie.
"This bag of coin says I finish first," the woman reappeared with three pies in one hand as she tossed a bag of gold onto the table with the other. She sat down across from Pax and started devouring them like a feral beast before he had a chance to answer her.
"Challenge…" he said, stuffing the slice into his mouth, "AcCePteD," he muttered with his mouth full. The challenge was set, and Pax prepared himself for a battle of appetites against the imposing woman.