There was a silent heartbeat.
“Both the baby and the coffee,” Katie clarified.
Carla rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course. Sorry. I’ve only heard that fifty thousand times today. Should have caught on.” Ah, there she was. Good. All felt right in the world once more. But no sooner had the real Carla Beaker flashed behind her eyes than the Stepford version emerged once more. “Please make yourself at home. I’m afraid I must play hostess, and I’m sorry that Maverick isn’t here. Jonathan just took him home for naptime. But come back by later this afternoon; hopefully, he’ll be here again.”
She started to walk away, then turned back, giving the gesture over her shoulder toward the counter. “I should let you know, my grandfather, Harold, is helping out since Maverick’s birth.” I followed her motion and saw an old, tired-looking man staring at the case of pastries with a lost expression. On either side of him stood the two teenage baristas, a boy and girl. “Please be patient with him. He’s excited to have more time out of the nursing home, but I think it’s all a little overwhelming.” Her nostrils flared, little bits of the original Carla showing through as she cast a side-eye at Katie. “It’s hard to get featured in a premier blog when my life is nothing but diapers, teenagers with acne, and the geriatric.” Without any other transition, Carla turned and stopped by the closest table, where Paulie Mertz, the owner of the pet shop, was seated.
He noticed us and gave an overly enthusiastic wave.
I waved back but stepped toward the counter instead. The strange little man had grown on me, but I didn’t feel up to dealing with him and Carla at the same time.
“Told you that she’d read the blog.” Katie followed Watson and me. “But still, that was bizarre. It was the nicest I’ve ever seen that woman. But it also felt like she was one breath away from leaning over and ripping out my throat with her teeth.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Good grief, Katie. Gruesome much?”
She shrugged, unconcerned. “And she didn’t even comment on my T-shirt. I mean, really? Could it be more perfect?”
“That is a pretty great T-shirt, Katie.” The male version of the teenage barista flashed Katie a smile though his hands never stopped moving on the espresso machine, eliciting puffs of steam and foam as if he was a conductor. “But it would’ve been better if that unicorn hippo character you wear so much was present.”
“Dang it!” Katie shook her fist toward the barista. “Nick, I didn’t even think about it. That would’ve been brilliant. I’m coming to you from now on whenever I come up with a new design.”
I marveled at the two of them. Since moving to Estes Park the previous winter, I’d been in Black Bear Roaster countless times, at least before I had Katie making heaven above my head. I’d seen both of the teenage baristas countless times. Not once had I seen either of them ever appear anything other than sullen. And I most definitely never learned their names. I had quite literally only seen the boy and thought teenage barista. Apparently, his name was Nick. And also apparently, I was a horrible person. He and the girl had offered me the elixir of life in the form of a dirty chai how many times? And I’d never bothered to learn their names.
As if to rub it in, the teenage barista—er… Nick—offered a smile-like grimace at me. “I suppose you want your normal dirty chai, Ms. Page?” Though not unfriendly, the chipper quality he’d used with Katie vanished, and he seemed sullen once more, and rather nervous.
“Yes. That would be wonderful. Thank you, Nick.”
His dark eyes flashed at me in surprise, then refocused on his task.
I was a good tipper, but I’d have to leave an extra-large one today in way of apology.
As Nick fixed Katie’s and my drinks, Carla’s grandfather—I had to consider for a moment to recall his name—Harold, offered a smile from behind the case of pastries. His gleaming white dentures seemed a little too large for his face but provided him a rather affable quality. “Well, hey there, pretty ladies and hairy pooch. Any delicacies I can offer you?”
“I’d love your blueberry streusel muffin, please.” Katie smiled at him in her good-natured way, but over the long process of Harold separating one pastry bag from another and struggling to get it open and then the small war of sliding the muffin inside, her smile grew strained.
It was hard to watch. The man was clearly out of his comfort zone. His hands never ceased trembling as he worked.
By the time he looked at me, I almost felt guilty for ordering something. “I think I’ll do your apple cinnamon scone, please.”
He beamed, friendly once more, though a trail of sweat made its way down his temple. “Would you like the apple butter on top that comes with it?”
I would, but I couldn’t fathom putting him through that process. “No, but thank you.” I patted my stomach. “Gotta watch the figure.”
Katie cast me a quizzical glance. Those four words were not in our vocabulary.
Still shaking, Harold repeated the process, and when he slid a pumpkin scone into the bag, I didn’t correct him. It wasn’t like it mattered; Watson would end up eating over half of it anyway.
After a few more minutes, Katie and I had our drinks and pastries, we’d paid, and managed to find a recently vacated two-top over in the corner.
Katie scowled as she whispered, “I don’t know if it’s nice that Carla gave her grandfather a job here, or if it’s nice that her grandfather is helping her out? The whole thing seemed rather painful.”
“No kidding.” I pointed at her, only partially teasing. “You are not allowed to offer him a job to try to rescue him. We can’t steal any more of Carla’s employees. If we do, she’ll take out a hit on us—I have no doubt.”
Katie chuckled. “I won’t. Although you’ve got to admit; that would be kind of hilarious. Having Carla’s grandfather come over and work for me in the bakery.”
“You’re a sick woman, Katie. And once more I’m reminded why we get along so well.” I tore off a bit of my scone. After one bite, it did what Carla’s scones always did and soaked up every bit of moisture so my mouth felt like the Sahara. I tore off another bite and passed it covertly to Watson under the table.
He shivered in pleasure.
“So—” I leaned across the table, closer to Katie, “—how long do you think we have to stay here to not be rude?”
“I’d say about fifteen minutes will be good.”
“Fifteen minutes? That’s a little exorbitant, don’t you think?”
Katie patted my hand. “By that time, you’ll be able to get a second dirty chai.”
She had a point.
The longer we sat there, the more pleasant it became. It was fun watching the endless stream of townspeople pass by. And truly amazing how much gossip a person could catch up on just by sitting still and listening.
Before getting my second drink, I left Watson with Katie and went to the restroom. It was occupied, but there wasn’t a line, so I waited in the narrow hall toward the back.
“He’s nothing more than an embarrassment, Carla. This has to end.” The man’s voice was angry and low, and it took me a second to realize it was coming from the door that was open a crack at the end of the hall.
“He’s my grandfather, Eustace. And this is my coffee shop.” Carla’s voice drifted to me—though it too was quiet, it was sharp and somewhat vicious. “I know it’s a foreign concept to you, but you don’t rule the entire world.”
“You wouldn’t have this coffee shop if it weren’t for my son and our money.”
Not bothering to try talking myself out of my natural impulse—the expression “curiosity killed the cat” was a warning I’d abandoned months ago—I eased my way down the hall and managed to look through the open doorway. Though I couldn’t see Carla, I saw Eustace Beaker, her father-in-law. I’d never had any real interaction with the man other than him and his wife coming into the store on opening night, but he served on the town council with my uncle, Percival, and I’d heard plenty of stories.
; “Jonathan helped me get Black Bear Roaster up and running, but it pays the bills every month, thank you very much. We’re not a drain on you or your fortune.” Carla might not be my favorite person in the world, but I couldn’t help admiring the way she stood up to her father-in-law as well as the conviction in her voice.
“You might not be a drain, but you’re an embarrassment. This whole coffee shop is. It was bad enough you have the Indian kid working for you when he can’t even graduate high school on time; now you bring in your decrepit grandfather?” Eustace sneered.
The man was repulsive. And from the looks of him, though moneyed and well put together, I figured he wasn’t that much younger than Carla’s grandfather.
And the Indian kid? Seriously?
“Nick is a good kid and leave my grandfather out of this. He’s helping me out. It does him good. He needs a break from the nursing home from time to time.” While Carla kept speaking, Eustace must’ve felt my stare and glanced over at me.
His eyes narrowed, and I gave a little flinch at being caught.
Just then, there was a click as the door to the women’s restroom opened and Myrtle Bantam emerged. Thankfully she didn’t notice me or call out my name. As she walked back into the coffee shop, I slipped into the bathroom as quickly as I could and locked the door.
My time in the bathroom was so excessive I nearly started counting the tiles on the floor. Why I’d ducked into the lavatory instead of booking it for the front door, I didn’t know. Talk about stupid. There wasn’t even a tiny window to try to crawl out of. Probably for the best. With my luck I knew exactly how that would end. Either with me getting stuck halfway through or accidentally leaving my skirt behind. What a great start to the tourist season that would be—the local bookshop owner caught in the streets in nothing but her long red hair, silver corgi earrings, peasant blouse, and cowboy boots.
Although… if Carla and her father-in-law were standing outside the bathroom door waiting for me, doing a partial streak through the downtown didn’t sound half bad by comparison.
Finally, there was a knock at the door and the handle jiggled.
“Sorry, one second!” I glanced at the back wall. No, still no window. What if it was Carla and Eustace knocking?
Well, what of it? He should be ashamed of himself, not me. I reached for the door handle, then paused, thinking I needed to keep some semblance of my pride. Though I hadn’t used either, I went over, flushed the toilet and then washed and dried my hands, just in case they were listening.
When I finally opened the door, it was the other teenage barista. Her blue eyes were wide in panicked frustration, like she’d been waiting awhile at a very inopportune time.
“Sorry. The chai wasn’t sitting right.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think about them. So much for my pride.
The girl ducked past me with a grossed-out shudder.
I blocked the door with my hand before it closed, as another thought hit me. “I’ve been coming here for months, granted not as much as I used to, but still. I’ve never asked your name.” Really? This is what I was doing right then?
She gaped at me like I was insane. At least she was a good judge of character. “Um… Tiffany?”
She didn’t sound overly sure of that, but maybe she was a little terrified of me.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Tiffany. Sorry I never asked before.”
She only stared at my hands still holding the door ajar.
“Oh, sorry!” I pulled my hand away, letting the door close. There was an instant click of the lock. I glanced back toward the stockroom where Carla and Eustace had been. I didn’t hear anything. At least they weren’t waiting.
If I hadn’t been ready to head for the hills before, I most definitely was after my interaction with Tiffany. Poor thing. Keeping my gaze firmly two paces ahead of my feet, I hurried back into the main portion of the coffee shop and darted toward the table where I’d left Katie. I was going to grab Watson’s leash and make a run for it.
But oh, the plans of mice and men…
Paulie and his friends had joined Katie at the table. And he was currently on his knees lavishing affection on a very unappreciative Watson. Noticing me, he grinned but didn’t stop his stroking of Watson’s sides. “I haven’t seen your little man in forever. You haven’t come in for dog food lately.”
“Well, he’s a little finicky. He’s stopped eating any sort of dog food. Now I have to cook for him constantly.” It was true enough. And after buying two exorbitantly priced bags of dog food that ended up going to the squirrels and chipmunks, it was time for Paulie to know the truth.
Katie peered over her shoulder at me in concern. “You were gone a long time. Are you okay?”
I nearly made another comment like I had with Tiffany, but then I glanced at Paulie’s friend, an older African American woman who could have just stepped off the pages of Vogue. For once, my brain caught up with my mouth. “Oh yes, just fine. Thank you.”
Before I could figure out an appropriate excuse to get Katie and me to leave, Paulie was standing and making introductions. “I don’t know if you guys have met. Fred, this is Athena Rose. She writes the obituaries for the paper.”
“I’ve been in your charming bookstore a couple of times, although I don’t think we’ve officially been introduced.” She held out a french-tipped hand. “And I have to thank you. My role at the paper is staying much busier since you moved to town.” Her eyes twinkled.
I shook her hand, considering her words, then realized the implication since she wrote obituaries. “Well, I don’t know if I can take credit for that. I might’ve discovered a few dead bodies, but I’m hardly responsible for them.”
She gave a prim shrug. “Maybe so, but you most definitely make it more interesting.”
“Athena has a little teacup poodle named Pearl that my boys love to play with.” Paulie pulled the attention back to himself and finally stopped petting Watson and took his seat as he motioned toward the empty one between him and Katie. It seemed I’d been gone so long our tiny table for two had become an even tinier table for four.
Athena held up her purse from her lap, and a tiny fluffy white head smiled at me.
“Oh my goodness. That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. She hardly looks real.” I couldn’t imagine the tiny dog surviving a solitary minute with Paulie’s two crazy corgis. I turned back to him. “How are Flotsam and Jetsam? You didn’t bring them? The invitation said dogs are welcome.”
He shook his head. “No, not my boys. They’re banned from here for life. The last time I brought them in, Flotsam wouldn’t quit humping Carla’s leg, and while I was trying to get him to stop, Jetsam ran back into the storeroom and ate through an entire shipment of coffeecake.”
That sounded about right, but at the mention of the storeroom, I glanced back the way I had come. Carla was behind the counter, helping her grandfather with something. Nick was still manning the espresso machine, and Tiffany apparently was taking her own sweet time in the bathroom as well. For a moment, I didn’t see Eustace, which made me hope he’d left.
But then I found him, standing across the shop next to an overdressed woman I assumed was his wife, holding a plate with an untouched scone as he glared. And that glare flicked back and forth between Carla and me. I jolted when his dark blue eyes met mine. Clearly, I couldn’t play it off that I hadn’t overheard them.
I whipped back around, hoping he wouldn’t come over.
Once more, Katie was studying me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little off.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. We should probably get back to the Cozy Corgi soon, don’t you think?” I tried to infuse my voice with an ease I didn’t feel. “Surely we’ve been here more than fifteen minutes?”
Before Katie could respond, Athena’s sharp gaze tracked from Eustace to me. “It appears Mr. Beaker isn’t your biggest fan.”
She was blunt; I had to give her that. “Well… we haven’t really interacted t
hat much. He probably just doesn’t like that his daughter-in-law’s competition is here.”
Before I could stop her, Katie craned around like a busybody in church.
I swatted at her. “Katie. Turn back around.”
She did, but didn’t seemed overly concerned about being caught staring. “Oh, he’s a nightmare. He and his wife. They would come in when I worked here every once in a while and raise absolute havoc. Carla wasn’t the easiest boss, but she was nothing compared to those two.”
Despite the background noise of the crowded coffee shop being enough to counter Katie’s voice, I shushed her.
Athena waved me off. “Oh, don’t bother. It’s no secret. Anyone who’s met the man knows he’s nothing more than a loathsome, imperious tyrant.”
Blunt indeed.
I stared at her for a second, then couldn’t suppress a grin. “You might just be my new favorite person.”
“Well, then, apparently you have exquisite taste.” She winked, and I realized she was wearing false eyelashes. Athena Rose was more glamorous sitting in the middle of a coffee shop with her teacup poodle in a purse than I’d been on my wedding day to my ex-husband. Women like her were always a marvel to me.
Paulie lowered his voice, showing more reserve than what I’d typically observed from him. “He is awful. Remember I told you some of the town council had given me a hard time when I moved to town? He was one of the ringleaders in that. If it wasn’t for your uncle speaking up for me, I doubt I’d own the pet shop.”
It seemed my initial reaction to the man had been correct. Not that it was any real surprise, given how he’d treated Carla and spoken of Harold and Nick, but still.
Paulie, Athena, and Katie continued to gossip about Eustace and his wife, Ethel. It seemed they felt they were town royalty. I came in and out of the conversation, as I allowed my attention to wander while I surveyed the busy coffee shop. It was only the middle of May and already the tourist season was picking up, just like I’d been promised. It would be in full force in a few weeks when school was out. Hopefully, with the new rush of people, things would even out between Carla’s coffee shop and Katie’s bakery. I knew there would naturally be some competition, but it would be wonderful if it was less acute.
Scornful Scones (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 5) Page 2
