by Jinty James
“Mrrow.” Trixie greeted the masseuse, a playful look on her face.
“Oh, Ramon.” Claudine turned to him. “I’m Claudine and I own the café near your salon and I’ve heard you give wonderful massages.” She positively gushed, her shrill voice making Maddie wince.
“Some people seem to think so,” Ramon said, attempting to look modest.
“I must have one with you. I must!” Claudine’s face was animated.
Maddie and Suzanne looked at each other, as if to say, “Yikes!”
“There is no way I would ever give that woman a massage,” Suzanne whispered in Maddie’s ear. “I’d rather eat dirt.”
“Let me check my calendar.” Ramon dug his phone out of his jeans pocket. He pressed some buttons. “Yes, I have one appointment left on Monday afternoon at four o’clock.”
“I’ll take it!” Claudine answered.
“You know where I am?”
Something that sounded like a cross between a giggle and a squeal emitted from Claudine’s lips. “Everyone knows where your salon is, Ramon.”
“OMG,” Suzanne muttered to Maddie. “Is she trying to flirt with him?”
“Good. I will see you then, Claudine.”
“Yes,” Claudine breathed, looking at him longingly. Then, as if she finally realized where she was, her demeanor changed. “And I’ll see you from the winner’s podium, Maddie.”
The older woman flounced away, Maddie wondering if her peculiar stride was another flirtation effort.
“I take it you are not friends with her?” Ramon asked curiously.
“No way.” Suzanne shook her head vigorously, her ponytail swinging from side to side.
“No,” Maddie replied. “She used to be my boss, until Suzanne and I struck out on our own.”
“I think she is an unhappy woman,” Ramon said. “Perhaps my massage will make her feel a little better. More relaxed.”
“She’s not a nice woman, Ramon,” Suzanne told him. “She’s always coming over to our truck, trying to cause trouble.”
“Do not fear, Suzanne.” Ramon patted Suzanne’s hand. By the look on her face, Maddie thought her friend was trying not to swoon. “I have dealt with women like Claudine before. A little kindness can work wonders, as well as the right essential oils. Perhaps she will not bother you after her massage.”
A moment later, Ramon left, wishing them the best of luck.
“I so want to marry that man,” Suzanne declared, her gaze following him as he strolled to the other side of the green. “I mean, he’s kind to awful old women like Claudine!”
“She’s not that old,” Maddie protested, wondering why she was even bothering to defend her nemesis. But she and Suzanne were twenty-seven and Claudine looked to be in her forties.
“You know what I mean, Mads,” Suzanne replied. “Maybe not so much old in years, as in her outlook.”
“You could be right,” Maddie agreed.
“Mrrow!” Trixie joined in the conversation.
Just then, a flurry of activity nearby heralded the arrival of the judge.
“Here they come,” whispered Suzanne, suddenly standing tall.
Maddie took a deep breath, telling herself not to be nervous. This can’t possibly be worse than working for Claudine. At that bracing thought, she pinned a smile to her lips and looked out of the serving hatch.
“Ready, girls?” A short, overweight man in his fifties with a bristly brown beard and an oily smile approached them. He held a microphone toward them.
He was accompanied by a wiry looking man in his forties, who had receding dark hair and wore horn-rimmed glasses.
A third gentleman smiled at Maddie and Suzanne. He was older than the other two men and had an air of gravitas about him.
“I’m Edward Grenville, the judge for today,” the eldest man spoke. “This is Dave Dantzler, from Mornings with Dantzler on KBJW, and Walt, the newspaper reporter from the Estherville Star. They’ll be interviewing you after I judge your entry.”
Maddie nodded, remembering reading something about that on the competition form.
Are you ready—” the judge looked down at the clipboard he held “—Maddie Goodwell?” He suddenly seemed to spot Trixie. “And who do we have here?” He smiled.
“This is Trixie,” Maddie said, wondering if she’d get points taken off her entry or even disqualified for having a cat in the truck. Trixie’s presence had never worried the health inspector, and Maddie hadn’t given a second thought that she might not be welcome today.
“Charming,” the judge said. “And this business is Brewed from the Bean?”
“Yes,” Suzanne spoke.
“Good.” The judge made a notation on his form. “We just have to double check everything. It would be terrible if the wrong person won, because their stall wasn’t where it was supposed to be.”
Maddie smiled politely. Her stomach fizzed with nerves, and she took a deep breath.
As crazy as it seemed, somehow she could feel Trixie silently reaching out and offering her support. Feeling more centered, Maddie waited for the judge’s instructions.
“I would like you to make me a cappuccino. I assume you’ve read the rules?”
“Yes, sir,” Maddie replied.
“Good. The amount of time it takes you is also taken into account. However, I will primarily be judging on taste and appearance.” He held up a stopwatch. “Your time starts now.”
Maddie flew to the coffee machine, her movements a blur. She’d practiced in her spare time over the last week, although Suzanne had protested that surely she didn’t need to train for the contest, when she made coffees all day long in the truck?
But a fierce kernel of competitive pride had made her want to win – she cared more about her own reputation and beating Claudine fair and square than she did about making it to the barista competition in Seattle.
The machine buzzed and whirred as she pulled what she hoped was a great tasting shot. She’d specifically chosen dark roasted Arabica beans for this competition – she often used the same kind of beans for her customers’ drinks, and thought they would give her the best chance of success in the competition.
The aroma of the espresso shot filled the truck, sweet notes of fruity complexity, as Maddie steamed the milk. She could feel Suzanne and Trixie silently cheering her on. No longer nervous, Maddie confidently poured the milk into the cup, adding her signature art – a picture of Trixie.
Surreptitiously exhaling, she presented the cappuccino to the judge. Win or lose, she’d just made one of the best cappuccinos of her life!
The judge sniffed appreciatively, the other two men peering over his shoulder as he studied the cat art on top of the foam.
“Charming.” He smiled, his gaze flickering to Trixie and back to his cup. “Yes.” He made a note on his clipboard.
Maddie held her breath. Would he still think it was “charming” when he tasted the coffee?
He took a sip. She didn’t know whether to close her eyes or keep watching him. Her curiosity won out, and she kept her gaze trained on him.
The judge’s expression didn’t give much away, but Maddie told herself surely she would know if he hated the taste of her cappuccino?
He looked down at the cup, and took another sip. And another. Finally, he stated his verdict. “Delicious, Ms. Goodwell.”
Maddie breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to look at Suzanne, who had a huge grin on her face. Trixie looked pleased as well.
“Thank you, sir,” Maddie said.
“We have one more contestant to go, and then I need to tabulate the scores. The winner will be announced later today.”
Maddie sank down on the stool, not sure if her legs could still support her. She watched the judge head toward a small tent marked Private on the other side of the square.
“Don’t get too comfy.” Dave Dantzler, the overweight radio personality, smirked. “I’ll be interviewing you first, and then Walt will, for the newspaper.”
�
�Sure,” Maddie replied, bristling at his tone. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Trixie no longer looked relaxed, and instead sat up straight on her stool, as if determined to keep a stern eye on him.
“What’s your secret to making a good cup of coffee?” Dave asked.
“Using the best ingredients possible.”
“Such as?” The radio personality looked a little bored.
“Such as buying the best beans I can, ensuring they’re roasted to bring out the greatest flavor, and using the highest quality milk and chocolate powder for the dusting on top of the cappuccino,” Maddie replied evenly.
“Everyone loves Maddie’s mochas,” Suzanne put in. “It’s partly because of the chocolate powder she uses, and she’s not mean with it like some other baristas.” A telltale roll of her eyes alerted Maddie to the fact that Suzanne was talking about Claudine.
“What’s the other reason people love her mochas?” Dave asked, sounding like he was making fun of Suzanne’s statement.
“The coffee,” Maddie replied. “It all comes down to the quality of the coffee, and how you use it.” She didn’t like the tone this man was taking, but she was just relieved her part in the competition had finished. Besides, it was a regional radio station – how many listeners did this man have? His behavior was a tad obnoxious so far – did he sound like that on the air?
“Thanks—” Dave looked down at his notes “—Maddie Goodwell. I’ve got what I need.” He looked at his colleague Walt, the newspaper reporter. “Your turn.”
“Hi,” the scrawny man said. Behind his horn-rimmed glasses his eyes gleamed with intelligence. “Do you mind if I record this?” He held up his phone.
Maddie and Suzanne looked at each other, then shook their heads. After all, Dave Dantzler had just recorded them for his show.
“How long have you been operating Brewed from the Bean?” Walt asked.
“Seven months,” Maddie replied.
“And where do you normally park your truck? So our readers can check you out?” he added.
“Here.” Suzanne jumped into the conversation. “This is our usual site and the organizers said we could keep it for the festival.”
“That was fortunate. So, how do you think you went in the competition?”
“Um … I don’t like to speculate,” Maddie eventually replied. What could she say? That she hoped she was the winner? She didn’t want to come off over-confident in her interview. If she didn’t win, she’d look foolish.
“Maddie’s coffee is awesome,” Suzanne said. “You should put that in your article.”
“Mm.” The reporter looked like he was trying not to smile at Suzanne’s enthusiasm. “And what about your cat? Does she come to work with you every day?”
“Not all the time,” Maddie said cautiously. “Sometimes she likes taking a break at home.”
“Mrrow,” Trixie agreed.
“Her name is Trixie,” Suzanne put in.
“She’s certainly cute,” the reporter commented. His gaze landed on the sample plate of health balls. “What are these?”
“Try one,” Suzanne urged, holding the plate toward him. “These are my specialty, just like coffee is Maddie’s. They’re healthy but delicious.”
“Hmm.” The reporter chewed, then swallowed. “What do you call them? I’ll include it in my article.”
Suzanne’s eyes lit up. “Health balls. They contain coconut, dates, and cacao – not cocoa.”
“They’re certainly tasty,” the reporter agreed. “So what are your plans after the competition, Maddie? If you win the wild card entry into the big Seattle competition?”
“Maddie will compete, of course,” Suzanne said before Maddie could open her mouth.
“That’s right,” Maddie added with a rueful smile. She loved Suzanne, but sometimes her best friend spoke for her.
“And after that?” the reporter probed.
“If she wins that competition, she’ll be able to compete in the nationals,” Suzanne said.
“Yes.” Maddie wondered if the article would actually mention any of her comments or if it would only include Suzanne’s statements.
“And what about Brewed from the Bean? Any plans to expand?”
“We haven’t thought about that yet,” Maddie jumped in. And it was true. For the moment, Maddie was quite happy running this truck with Suzanne and Trixie. They made enough money to cover their living expenses plus some extra to invest in the business.
“But we hope to,” Suzanne put in.
“Okay.” The newspaper reporter nodded. “I think that’s all for now.” He craned his head toward the other side of the lawn. The judge emerged from the private tent, striding toward a stall opposite Maddie and Suzanne.
“Good luck,” Walt said. “It looks like the judge is ready for the last contestant.”
“Thank you,” Maddie said.
“Mrrow,” Trixie added.
“Phew!” Suzanne flopped onto a stool. “I’m glad it’s all over – apart from having to wait until you’re announced the winner!”
“So am I,” Maddie said wryly. “And I mightn’t win. You know that.”
“Do not.” Suzanne grinned. “Okay, I won’t say it again but I reserve the right to say I told you so when they hand you the trophy.”
“There’s a trophy?”
Trixie’s ears pricked.
“Yep.” Suzanne winked. “I had a peek inside the judge’s tent this morning when everyone was setting up. It’s small but it’s definitely a gold trophy.”
“Suzanne!” Maddie didn’t know whether to be shocked or amused. “What if you got caught? They might have disqualified me.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Suzanne looked momentarily chagrined. “Sorry, Mads. I promise not to do something like that again.”
“Good.” Maddie blew out a breath. “Because if I do win—” she felt uncomfortable saying that out loud and hurried on, “—they might have security at the Seattle contest and if you tried to get a peek at the prizes there—”
“Don’t worry,” Suzanne hastened to reassure her. “I wouldn’t blow your chances like that.” She appeared to realize what she’d just said. “Okay, yeah, I shouldn’t have succumbed to temptation this morning.” She looked around as if checking for eavesdroppers but apart from passersby strolling through the green and stopping at the different stalls, there didn’t seem to be anyone loitering. “Thank goodness nobody saw me.” She lowered her voice.
“Thank goodness,” Maddie echoed. Although she’d been trying to downplay it, she really wanted to win the competition.
“You stole my beans – you – you bean thief!” Claudine’s shrill voice caught their attention.
CHAPTER 3
“What …?” Maddie’s eyes widened. She stared across the square to the stall the judge had just departed. Claudine’s hands were on her hips and she glared at a short burly man with curly black hair.
“What are you talking about?” the man demanded.
“You have the same beans as me!”
“So?” He looked confused.
“My beans are one of a kind. Everybody says so!” Claudine looked like she was going to shriek with rage.
“Yeah, one of a kind awful,” Suzanne muttered to Maddie.
Even Trixie seemed transfixed by the angry tableaux.
Dave Dantzler shoved his microphone in between the man and Claudine. “What’s going on, guys? Talk to me.”
“He stole my beans.” Claudine’s voice was loud enough for everyone at the festival to hear.
“I have no idea what this person is talking about.” The coffee vendor seemed genuinely confused. His voice was also loud enough for Maddie to hear.
Claudine drew herself up and stuck out her chest. “I just happened to be passing after the judging, and I noticed that this – this person had the same beans as I did, and that the judge had just left. Naturally, I was concerned that this – this person stole my beans. I believe I have an extremely good
chance of winning the competition and my beans are part of my success. And now – and now—” Claudine’s face puckered.
“She really is delusional,” Suzanne whispered to Maddie. “Her coffee is awful – not even adding chocolate powder and calling it a mocha can save it – I tested one at her café a few months ago, remember?”
“Yes.” Maddie nodded. Suzanne hadn’t been able to stop talking about how bad it had been.
“It’s not against the rules for competitors to use the same kind of beans,” Dave Dantzler put in.
“That’s right.” The newspaper reporter nodded.
“But … but …” Claudine seemed to deflate a little.
“I did not steal your beans,” the coffee vendor defended himself. “Here, take a look for yourself.” He gestured at his stall. “I doubt they’re the same as yours – I get mine roasted from a small company just outside Seattle.” He pulled out a bag from underneath his stall and thrust it at Claudine.
Claudine scanned the writing, first holding the bag close to her face and then further away, squinting at the writing.
“Do you think she needs glasses?” Maddie murmured to Suzanne.
“I think you’re right.” Suzanne looked at Maddie. “That’s what Mom was doing before she got reading glasses.”
“Well?” The radio personality waved his microphone in front of Claudine.
“Well …” Claudine hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I guess they’re not the same after all. But the bag looks very similar to mine.”
“How do you feel about being falsely accused of stealing?” Dave shoved his microphone toward the coffee vendor’s face.
The man shrugged. “We all make mistakes. And I think everyone is anxiously waiting to find out who won.”
Claudine grudgingly handed back the bag of beans.
“That’s very decent of you,” Walt, the newspaper reporter, commented.
“Everyone likes having an edge in a competition,” the coffee vendor said. “I’m just glad she accused me after the judging.”
