Café Faith

Gabrielle stepped off the boat in the cool mist of early morning. It promised to be the sort of day that post-cards were made of, the sun just tinting the horizon with gray light.

The gulls swooped overhead, and she thought that maybe she heard the sound of a foghorn. She would not have been surprised; the town was *named* Port City, after all; it was expected to have all the trappings... at least, it was expected by a first generation immigrant to the Land of Opportunity.

It was an ironic name, Gabrielle felt. There was very little about her situation to suggest "opportunity", as such. The opportunity to be harassed, perhaps, although for once it would be for her beauty, not her blood; an opportunity to lose all her money, although she had once argued passionately that it would be better to be poor than to have ill-gotten riches; and an opportunity to turn all that she had learned in her early life into uselessness, because she had been rejected too many times by the magical world to ever accept them.

America... she knew little about it, other than that her sister had been there, and had referred to the men there as "charmingly arrogant." She knew, also, that there was very little in the way of Magical Customs in the cities where Muggle transportation was common, and vice-versa. Lastly, she knew that towns just like Port City-crowded, low on customs officials and policemen, but always high on open jobs-were so common that she had only to think of coming here, perhaps 7,000 franks to her name, and she would prosper, using only her beauty.

She knew this; now she had but to do it.

No wands, that was the key. Her wand was stored safely in her trunk, which she would come to pick up at the end of the day; better to find a place to live first, and better to find employment before that.

Best, Gabrielle decided, to find coffee before anything.

It took her very little time to find the café. "Café Faith," the name of it read, and the sign on the window showed a smiling old woman with her hair in a bun pointing to a cup of coffee, which steamed until surely the half-moon glasses perched on the end of her nose would be covered in fog. Gabrielle checked her watch; 10:38 it read. Mentally, Gabrielle subtracted five hours and decided that the cafŽ might well be her best shot... it was never too safe to wander around an unfamiliar city in the early morning with no wand.

She frowned. She was determined never to rely on a wand again. The world that accompanied it was too harsh for her.

There was only one person in the café, a man perhaps five years older than she. He was slight; it was possible that he was much older, with that frame. His hair, however, suggested youth, thick and black and long. It fell rather messily into his eyes, covering his forehead completely, and was pulled back into a loose tail at the back of his neck.

He looked up, and smiled tiredly as she entered. "Hullo," he said, "Can I get you something?"

Gabrielle ordered a mochanita, whatever that was supposed to be, and realized as she sat down that she truly had no idea how old this man was.... With eyes like that, so tired and wise, he may well be over thirty; however, they were bright, green, green eyes, and something in them spoke of youth.

She sighed, reaching into her bag, and pulled out a large, leather-bound book, being careful not to let him see the cover. The title of the book was "A Listing of All Towns in the United States In which Persons of Magic Dwell, or near which Persons of Magic Dwell, as Compiled by the Records of the State-level Use of Magic Office." Gabrielle thought that this was not the sort of thing a muggle woman would carry.

The man's eyes widened at the sight of it. "That's a rather heavy tome for four in the morning, isn't it?"

She smiled up at him. "I have worked with heavier," she said, and let him make of it what he would.

Portland, she read to herself, Portsmouth... I'm going the wrong way. She looked a bit more, and then again.

There were five "Port Cities": California, Georgia, Maine, Nebraska, and Texas.

Gabrielle was certain of two things, both of which were defied by this entry. Happily, they were easy to ascertain. "I am in Rhode Island, am I not, Monsieur?" she asked the young man behind the counter.

"You are... less than half an hour from Providence, if that's where you're headed."

Gabrielle frowned at her page a bit more, and then shook her head. It was too perfect; there was only one thing it could mean: there was no one, other than herself, in the entire town who used magic. "Merci." Port City? She frowned; either someone had a quirky sense of humor, or was very confused. "And could you perhaps tell me... my geography is perhaps not so good as I could wish... is not Nebraska in the center of the country?"

"I afraid I wouldn't know. I'm not from the country, either." He tilted his shaggy head at her. "If I may make so bold, seeing as so many people are around to overhear our conversation..." Gabrielle smiled. "...what are you doing here?"

Gabrielle laughed a bit, wryly, as he handed her a steaming cup of something with a ridiculous amount of foam on top. "Illegally immigrating," she said. Let him think she was joking; only her tone was a lie. "My old government thinks that the new government will cover me, and the new government has not communicated with the old..." she let her voice trail off, and shrugged her shoulders, again letting him think what he wanted. He would never need know that the old government was magical, and thought she would be contacting the United States' Magical government.

"Ah," he said. "I remember how that works well enough. It was enough of a problem just getting out of the old, right?"

"Precisely," she smiled, and indicated her cup. "This is... heavenly. Decadent, but heavenly. What is it?"

"It's coffee, obviously, and whipped cream, sugar, chocolate, and about five secret ingredients I have been forbidden to reveal on pain of death except to new employees." He smiled up at her. "Would you by any chance be looking for a job?"

Gabrielle laughed at the coincidence. "I would, in fact. This is... a bit of a whim. But then, my people... we can be a bit childish about our whims, no? I have no plan for when I am here... If you mean your offer, then I would be happy to take you up on it."

He leaned forward. "Well, I'm the manager, and all that needs to happen is I have to recommend you to Roe, who owns us, and she has to meet and approve you. Really, her meeting and approving you would do it, but it tends to work out best if I recommend people as well. I probably shouldn't do that without an interview, though." He walked over to the far side of the counter, and poured himself a cup of hot water, into which he put a tea bag.

"When would I need to schedule this interview?"

He smiled at her again. "How does five o'clock sound?"

"Excellent. I shall return this afternoon, then?"

He laughed. "I was thinking this morning, actually." He took a sip of his tea and walked back over to her, and put out his hand. "I'm Harry Black, by the way; who are you?"

*******

Gabrielle thought she had stumbled across the nicest person on the planet. He was perfectly willing to help the innocent little French girl... well, perhaps she was, at twenty-one, not quite so innocent as he perhaps thought, but still, he was quite nice.

She was amazed to realize that he wasn't doing it because she was pretty. When she asked him, hesitantly (because it was not wise to scare off your employer) if that were the reason, he replied, "No, I have a girlfriend... although I must say, it will help you manage customers a bit."

The interview went well, she thought. He said that if it were just up to him, he would hire her in a shot; unfortunately, he said, "You still have to get the Roe O'Hara seal of approval. Come back at about three, that's when I change shifts and she'll be here then."

Gabrielle smiled. "A pleasure, I assure you."

After that, all her time was spent in looking for an apartment.

That proved to be the hard part, actually. It turned out that most apartments in the area were part of "New Ireland," the predominant immigrant culture in the area. She had a hard time finding any vacancies at all, not to mention in her price range. She finally managed to beg a place near the docks. It could have been worse, she felt; she could have had to actually stay in one of the archaic dock-side taverns. No, better this way. And it was relatively near Café Faith, too... assuming she got the job.

Because she found her place at about two, and her interview with "Roe" wasn't until three, she thought perhaps she could move her luggage to her new apartment in time. She could, just barely; the apartment came somewhat furnished, but frankly she didn't trust any of the chairs, and the table looked awfully spindly... essentially, everything not in the kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom needed replacing.

Not on her current budget, perhaps, but when she got a job...

And it was in this frame of mind that she went to her three o'clock interview.

*******

As soon as she walked in the door she knew who Roe was. It was easy enough to tell; the gold-and-crimson haired woman behind the counter, gently rounded in a way that would have made Renaissance painters drool onto their canvases, she had an air of ironic capability to her that immediately made Gabrielle hope she got the job. Nothing that happened served to dispel that thought... Roe was immediately introduced as "Aurora O'Hara, the owner of Café Faith."

Gabrielle had the job, easily, in under ten minutes.

The rest of the day was spent learning to make coffee. It was educational, actually. She had had no idea there were that many things to do with ground beans.

When she was done with the learning of making coffee, Roe asked, "Now, the only thing that remains is to work out your hours. Harry, would you do that?"

"I was thinking about that, actually," said Harry. "Would it be possible for her to work just the busy times, to keep us from being too tired?" He turned to smile tiredly at Gabrielle; despite a break in the middle of the day, he now looked exhausted.

"I would be happy to," she said. "Which times would those be?"

"Seven to nine in the morning, eleven to one, five to six, eight thirty to nine thirty, twelve to one, five to six," they rattled off in near unison.

"My goodness," said Gabrielle, "That certainly is a long list... just tell me when you need me in here, and I will come."

"Perfect, sweetheart," said Roe. "Harry, I'll have you and Kevin and I working eight-hour shifts, and then Josh and Gabrielle here can deal with the overflow. Day or night, darling?" Gabrielle shrugged, not particularly caring. "Now," continued Roe, "I know you've been up since four, and it's nearly eight-thirty now... you've been working for the last five hours. I'd say you deserved a break. Harry!" The last word came out imperiously, and the target of it jumped.

"Yes?"

"Take her to dinner!"

"I was actually going to go out with Anne..." His voice trailed off, and Gabrielle remembered that he had mentioned his girlfriend earlier.

"Harry..." It came out warningly.

"All right, all right!" he gave in. He turned to Gabrielle. "How do you feel about meeting Annie Baker?"

*******

Annie Baker turned out to be a wonderful person. She was rather overweight, but heavily-boned enough to look dignified. She made a rather odd couple sitting next to Harry, but she was so nice it was hard to hold it against her.

She was not happy to see Gabrielle come along, but Harry explained, and she accepted it. Gabrielle had a wonderful time eating with them, although she felt twitchy, as if she had something on her skin to which she was allergic.

It was only as she was walking back to her apartment that she realized what was wrong. Using magic was not only a way of life for those with the talent, it was also necessary; if you did not, then your magic built up, and you had to find some way to siphon it off. This was not a problem for most people; most people were able to use magic all the time. Gabrielle had heard that some people who were not allowed to use magic had actually gone insane.

She had to find a way to get rid of the excess magic. The only problem was, were she to use it, it would draw the attention of the state's magical government, especially considering there was no one else in the town who could do it. Gabrielle could quite possibly get jail time for using magic to no purpose in a Muggle-populated town, especially with the veela prejudice amongst educated officials.

So, when she got home, she got out a heavy book, put on the pale light (after a bit of experimentation) and read.

It took nearly an hour of research to find something possible, mostly because all of the things for the purpose were in fact magic-intensive little spells. It was like eating a nutrient bar. Still, though, finding a solution didn't take long... the Encyclopedia of Purposes was a resource that every magician should have, she thought. She soon found a little herbal mix, to be steeped for a minute in hot water and drunk, that would do just fine. It didn't even require that she make a potion; all it needed was to dry the herbs, and because she had a window, she could dry them without hassle.

All in all, it was a very full day. But successful; oh yes, it was successful!