"I abhor your enthusiasm at trying to beat me to work. You do know that your shift officially starts at ten, right?
Matthew was leaning against the back staff door, head back with his eyes closed. A back pack lay at his feet with a bicycle helmet and in each hand he held two travel tumblers. He hadn't been waiting long before quick deliberate steps grew louder and paused next to him.
He kinked an eye and spied her staring. "And so does yours. So we must be both dedicated to our job?"
"It is not dedication as a way of life." He almost distinguished a sigh from her lips.
"Amen. But I made you something to kick start the day." His hand extended with one of the tumblers and she hesitated before grasping it, aware that theirs fingers did not touch.
"You do realise that we have a fabulous espresso machine and beans here?"
"Just try it." The uncertainty of his impulsion to make her the juice wavered at the sight of her eyeing it warily. She sipped, and the brief flash of surprise that crossed her face was worth the effort of not spilling them on his ride in.
"It gives me a kick start to my morning after my bike ride. It's a fruit and veg mix. Carrot, apple, celery, beetroot and ginger, boosts the immune whilst cleansing."
"You got up, made juice and rode to work?" She unlocked the door and strode down the hall along the empty kitchen.
"I needed to clear the cobwebs. Cycling lets the air rush through the ears and invigorates the heart and body. Surely you can't deny a man that right"
Deny a man the right, to what. Invigorating hearts. Pleasures of the body. Satisfying a need. And her rights? Should she be denied her rights as a woman? There was a fine cobweb of pleasures and rights, and duty, and the effects of decisions on others, and desires and need. Not a good way to start thinking so early in the morning, with no caffeine and too little sleep.
"To ride his bicycle? No. But it is harder for men to be denied other things, as it is easier to deny them myself."
"You are far too cryptic for this time of the morning." His hand rubbed his forehead, as she had noticed him do before. "Do you ride?"
"Bicycles are not my forte. But I am proficient in other forms of riding, even if a little unpractised." She plopped the leather shoulder bag in a nearby lounge chair and draped the suit bag over the back that she had carried in.
"You do realise that we work in hospitality, and everything can be misconstrued with minds scraping the gutter."
She looked at him momentarily, finally catching on to how her words actually came out. She smirked ironically and tweaked her brow.
"My, my, Matthew. Are you suggesting that you are already at the bottom of the barrel and mix with the downtrodden?' Her movements took her to the end of the bar where she turned on the espresso machine whilst still sipping her juice concoction.
"All I am suggesting my dear, is that two can play that game."
And game on it was.
"How do you have your coffee?"
Through years of working in hospitality, and taking a plethora of orders, one could judge a man by his choice of coffee.
"Doppio macchiato." He watched her nod, but couldn't fathom the thoughts that raced through her head, as he saw the well-rehearsed motions as she made the espressos. Hers too was a doppio shot, but instead of putting foam on top, she splashed some cold milk in.
"Sugar?" Her hand hovered over his demitasse cup.
"One, thank you. I have it quintessentially Italian. You know what they say…?"
"Then apparently I am definitely not sweet enough," as she heaped two spoonful's of sugar into her own coffee.
The bar lay between them and the vast sunlit room slept quietly at the early hour. Her solitary morning routine compromised, she was resolved to remain professional enough to be able to work with him as much as what would be required. She begrudged what he represented and the choices that her father had made, and she knew already that she couldn't rebuff the man himself.
She smiled lightly, one that showed she was relaxed and unhindered. "I would have taken you for a flat white or a long black kind of guy. Basic, simple, non-complicated."
"Do I really read that way? Well! I like a Café au lait to indulge in once in a while, but only in Paris. Preferably I drink French Press coffee to extract all the characteristics and subtleties of the bean. But then that is for consuming copious amounts and for afternoons with a good book, or Sunday brunches. Which I may add will no longer exist while working here!"
She smiled and nodded again, which he took to mean she was listening with interest to what he had said.
"And I would have thought you a mainstream latte kinda woman?" He waited with what he knew was coming.
"You can't be serious," Mary's eyes bulged with mock horror. "A latte is to mainstream, as my Starbuck's order is to my life. Think complex and layered."
Matthew had no doubt that her Starbuck's coffee tweaked all the boxes, and added just a few more personalisation's.
"A wine and a bean cognisor," she continued. "We are fortunate! You may yet give Carson a run for his money. As for Sundays, I'm surprised that you know what they are after working in hospitality for so long. You should hear Granny's motto 'what is a weekend?'" They both chuckled at the inside joke.
"I'm afraid I was rather lucky with the last job, that they were closed on Sundays."
"No luck here. To have a Sunday off, you need to earn it. Or do a lot of brown nosing to whom does the roster."
"And who does the roster?"
"I do!" With which she flashed him a cheeky grin over her shoulder as she waltz to the desk at the front of the restaurant to claim two thick books.
He read the covers as she sat next to him on a bar stool. Rostering and Reservations.
"There is a knack to rostering, as no doubt you are aware. We keep a baseline of staff to maintain a certain level of standard, matched as well with understanding who/what and why people are choosing to dine with us, when we put on the style and show. Carson has a very astute way of looking at it, beware, he is exemplary in his service."
"I will aim at not discrediting the reputation that Downton has achieved." Matthew looked at Mary with a smile and face similar to a loyal puppy waiting for his walk.
"The intrinsic nature of the staff may not be as obvious at first," she continued, "so I will help you with the roster to start. It can be the little things that make the shifts run smooth and keep all floor, kitchen and customer happy."
"Like…?"
"O'Brien and Thomas work well together, thick as thieves, but then you don't want them together every shift as they get up to mischief. Bates is a stalwart, and never complains, but you have to make sure he doesn't lift too many heavy things like tables and chairs as he has a troublesome leg."
"Doesn't that pose problems with ensuring he is able to comply with all the requirements on the floor?"
"His worth with clients, and his food and wine knowledge outweighs the fact that he is unable to sometimes shift furniture. Because he will, if he is asked. Anna will always pick up extra shifts if someone calls in sick, but then you have to make sure she is not overdoing it, as she works twice as hard as most and is one our best employees. Jimmy can be lazy, for all his good looks and charm behind the bar. He may know what he is doing, but loves to skulk off with his phone out the back, so Carson usually is nipping at his heels. Ethel doesn't seem all that serious about this kind of work, so you need to keep an eye on her, especially flirting with customers!"
"Ha, I seemed to have noticed that last night."
"Alfred is a quick learner and soaks up information like a sponge. He may be assigned behind the bar, but he is rather versatile and can help on the floor if needed. And then we come to Carson." Her voice softened and she gazed at her fidgeting fingers. "If you can win him over onto your side, you've made a friend for life, and he will bend over backwards to accommodate your every whim."
"You speak from experience." The tone was soft and not a real question.
"Let's just say that he has my utmost devotion."
"And you? What do I need to know about you?" He perked in playfulness, seeing if she would take the bait.
Again her eyes flashed with tease and a challenge. "Once again Mr Crawley, I wouldn't dream of giving you any clues. Where's the fun in baring myself before you."
"I must say Mary; you are rather adept at creating a visual that is very hard not to unsee!"
There was laughter as they shook their heads as Edith appeared to talk to Matthew.