"She was looking at my samples for about ten minutes. I was sitting there, wondering what the heck she was doing. I'm by appointment only, but I was trying to be polite. I thought she was going to sit down and we'd start, like, maybe she was seeing what I have and what I do and then she'd ask for something. But, no, she asked me why I had such a small selection of clothes for sale. So, I told her, I design them for people, take their measurements and make a custom piece, you know. She was pretty mad that I wasn't selling it like a store. How am I supposed to sell it like a store? I'd have all this unsold product. Mind you, my samples are pretty delicate. They're unfinished, more of an idea really of what you can get, as you know."

Nikki and I were nodding with Miyuki, listening to her rant on and on about a mysterious woman who'd come into her atelier yesterday. She'd been ranting for ten minutes already, her mont blanc practically untouched. Her fork was hovering in the air, gesturing as she made points.

"Well, she said that she thought I was a vintage store! I said, 'I sure am, but I design the pieces'. She said that's not vintage! She said it has to be at least fifty years old! So I got into it, saying I use real patterns that I've collected over the years, that using the same patterns and types of cloth, even using vintage cloth from other pieces, made it vintage. We argued for so long. She said I had no idea what I was talking about! I said, 'lady! Have you been to fashion design school?! Because I have!' She had the audacity to say that my school must have been misguided. Can you imagine?"

"The nerve of some-" Nikki started, but Miyuki wasn't finished. We were used to such interruptions.

"So, she pulled out a pink dress from the rack, holding it from the lace! And she said she wanted to buy it! I said, 'sure! Let's consult and I can take your measurements!' Trying to be nice! And she said no, she wanted to buy it right now, that she's only in town for two days, and then I fucking KNEW. She's from that hotel! Another one of them! And so I said-"

The bell twinkled above the door and our mouths opened to call out our welcome to them, but-

"Oh my GOD there she is," Miyuki hissed, covering her face with the back of her hand and finally taking a bite of her mont blanc to shut herself up.

"Welcome to French Cup!" Nikki called out anyway. 

The woman looked harried and stressed out already. She marched right up to us. Miyuki was trying to shrink her purple plum 1960's dress covered self to about an inch tall, trying not to let the woman see they'd met before. However, a small smile was on her face behind her hand as she chewed her cake, clearly amused. 

"I'd like an ice caramel macchiato to go, tall, with extra vanilla syrup and oat milk," the woman said, a stinky expression already on her face. 

My hands pressed together, my fingers curling around the backs of them tightly at my waist under the counter. I could see the order had made Nikki feel like he had inchworms crawling on his neck. He made a stretch between his shoulders, rolling his head a bit, staring at her neutrally. No doubt it had bothered him. 

"Would you like to sit at a table, ma'am?" I asked, gesturing to our nice little tables. "We'll get that out for you. Please relax and enjoy the ambi-" 

"No, I'm in a hurry. I wanted it to go."

"Ma'am, we don't have to go cups. We'll be happy to serve you if you sit-"

"WHAT KIND OF COFFEE PLACE DOESN'T HAVE TO GO CUPS?!"

Our eyes were the size of dinner plates, staring at her like she'd suddenly grown eight arms. Her real arms were on her hips in defiance. Miyuki's face finally made an appearance, and she was staring at her like she was a bug who must be squashed. 

I regained my composure. I'd had this complaint before, and knew what to say. But, the way she'd done it was jarring. I bowed my head a little. "We're committed to the environment, ma'am. We'd rather our customers drink the traditional French way, which is to take their time and enjoy. Sometimes, the French can sit for hours with friends, having a nice time in café-"

"I'M IN A HURRY! I NEED A TO GO CUP! THIS IS RIDICULOUS! DOES TOKYO NOT HAVE TO GO CUPS ANYMORE?! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT PEOPLE HAVE PLACES TO BE?! I HAVE TO BE AT A WEDDING REHEARSAL IN AN HOUR-"

A loud clearing of a throat interrupted her. I realized I was bracing myself, my eyes squinted to almost closed as I took her onslaught. When I opened them, it was to a lovely surprise. 

"Don't I know you?" Gyeong-Wan asked, standing behind her. She turned around, and suddenly her demeanor was completely different. Almost abashed.

"Oh- oh, Park-san. Yes, of course. We spoke this morning. I'm with the wedding party staying at your hotel." She said it in a way where she could have started curling her hair around her finger, maybe flirtatious.

Nikki stuck his finger in his mouth behind her, and my hand went over my lips, trying not laugh. He was exactly right. 

"You were upset that we didn't have a the right kind of coffee cup lid this morning at breakfast, is that right?" He asked, casual as can be, but so professional. No doubt, he was a master at this. It made a blush come to my cheeks. Miyuki had her elbow leaned on the counter now, eating her cake and watching with interest. This gossip was no doubt the juiciest kind. She took a long and loud sip of her flat white in the deathly quiet that disturbed the air as the woman paused in satisfying, excruciating embarrassment. 

She finally spoke. "Uh- yes. Yes. I apologize again that I made such a fuss. There's so much to do, with the wedding being tomorrow. I wanted a coffee to go, but there weren't any of the right kinds of lids for the size I had. You can see how it would be frustrating."

And then he did something I completely did not expect. It made me want to high-five him. I could not stop smiling.

"You said, 'this fucking place, can't even get lids right, I'm going somewhere else'. Is that right?"

The color drained from her face. 

He shook his head. "I'm sorry but, I come into this place all the time. They don't have coffee cup lids either. I deeply apologize. May I direct you to the nearest Starbucks? This place is a little too fancy, I'm afraid." He smiled at her like she was the Queen of England. 

Miyuki stopped eating her mont blanc, her cheeks full of cake, her eyes so wide, but her smile was even wider. My hand was still over my mouth, hoping without hope that this woman couldn't see me smiling. Nikki was leaned over, though, his tall form basking in the glow of what Gyeong-Wan had just said, and his grin represented all of us.

But, wait. What Gyeong-Wan was saying. Something did not compute.

"Yes, I believe the nearest Starbucks is a mile away. In that direction. You should be able to find it on your GPS," he said, getting his phone out. 

"Um, thank you, but I can find it on my own," the woman said, stuttering over her words.

"Pleased to help, as always. I promise the Modern will have the correct coffee lids in the morning. Well, I won't keep you. I know you are in a rush. Please do enjoy the wedding rehearsal." He bowed to her.

She bowed back, and without a word she darted out of our shop, the bell tinkling as she went, the door closing quickly behind her.

"Now that is how you get rid of a rude customer," Nikki said, slow clapping. 

"I'm so impressed. You killed her with kindness. I could learn a lot, but I've got a big mouth," Miyuki sighed, taking a bit of chestnut paste from her disappearing cake onto her finger and sticking it into her said big mouth. 

"You work at the hotel?" 

He turned to me, smiling with those dimples. "Yes," he said, like it was no big deal. Like it didn't mean anything. "I'm the front desk manager. I'm training the front desk staff."

He didn't realize the silence that had fallen over us.