They were running late. One of their regular Muggle suppliers’ truck had broken down, meaning he’d been late coming into the market, meaning Martin hadn’t been able to get the berries as he used to, which meant that now Melinda was running late. She didn’t like being late, even if she knew that her customers would forgive a morning without berries. As luck would have it, Martin had managed to scrounge up berries from another supplier, so they wouldn’t go completely without… well, if she could get them done before they opened.
“Good morning!” She called out when she heard an enquiring voice, though she didn’t take her eyes off where she was placing fresh raspberries on the cooled pear danishes. “We’re not quite open yet, sir, but we will be soon.” As she placed the last raspberry in her hand, she glanced up to see who she was talking to, and recognized him. “Oh! Tate, right?” What was it Persephone had said about him..?
“You’re a chef, right?” He was, if she remembered correctly, and if he was, then he knew about busy kitchens, and though pastry chefs were generally held in less regard than regular chefs – which was a load of rubbish, in Melinda’s opinion – he would know that he could not expect to be allowed in to simply take up space.