by Janet Spaeth
“Oh, Cora, this is really too much.” She tried to pick up the cat, but Cora slithered out of her grasp and leaped to the floor with a thump.
“I can’t figure out—oh, wait a minute—yes, I can.” She remembered the silvery heart filled with salmon scraps from the night before.
Tess retrieved the package, now considerably smaller, and emptied it onto Cora’s plate. “I can’t believe my weirdo cat has a better memory than I do,” she told Cora, who was now gobbling the fish with relish, her earlier bout with hunger averted.
She nudged the cat’s side with the tip of her slipper. “Just don’t get used to it. When that’s gone, it’s back to Meow Meals and Cat-Cat Yums for you.”
She yawned and stretched. Coffee, that’s what she needed. The thought that Jake must have wonderful coffee every morning popped into her mind. He probably had all sorts of exotic varieties at his fingertips, and a grinder, too, she thought as she measured the store-brand coffee from the can. She did appreciate good coffee, freshly ground and brewed, but what she needed right now was immediate coffee.
A shriek sprang from her lips as she noted the clock over the stove. It was nearly nine!
Her toe caught in the rug, and she stumbled over Cora, who didn’t so much as twitch a hair. Nothing was going to move her from her salmon breakfast.
A quick shower and speed dressing got her in the store in half an hour. She flipped the sign on the window from Closed to Open and unlocked the door.
Saturday mornings were generally slow, times when she dusted the inventory and wiped down the display cases and shelves. She tried to keep up with it on a catch-as-catch-can basis through the week, but she relied on Saturdays to do a more thorough job.
She took all the birthstone crystal angels off their shelf for detailed cleaning with the tiny brush she used specifically for the delicate items. A slight movement startled her.
It took a moment for her to identify the source of the motion—Cora had plopped herself in the spot vacated by Faith’s departure.
Tess thought about how easily she had moved into calling the angel Faith, although the logical part of her still considered it foolish and misguided. But something about the zany angel made the name fit. It didn’t make sense.
Neither did the fact that she missed the angel. The hole it left was more than in the display area. How many times had she greeted it when opening? How often had Cora blissfully rubbed up against the rough grain of it, as if brushing herself on the textured robe? And straightening the wayward halo was part of the daily ritual.
Rats. She wanted to see Faith again.
The bell on the door tinkled a welcome as Jake walked in the front door.
“Are you always as hungry as I am the morning after a big meal?” he asked without preamble, sliding a bakery box across the counter to her.
“Oh, you didn’t need to,” she answered. The most delicious aroma wafted from the box to her nose, and her stomach replied with a loud growl that startled Cora out of a sound sleep. “But I’m glad you did,” she added hastily, tearing into the box.
What met her eyes was a true sweet tooth’s delight indeed. The selection of doughnuts and other pastries was astonishing. It was enough to stop any diet dead in its tracks. Twisted cinnamon rolls were nestled next to white frosted cake doughnuts sprinkled with tiny decorations.
He picked one up and held it out to her proudly. “Check it out.”
The little candies were white angels! “I’ve never seen these,” she marveled. But, even as she spoke, the businesswoman in her was taking note. “I wonder where they came from. I should—”
He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here. I already asked. And I called my distributor—he’s making a delivery to us on Monday—and he said if you want him to bring some then, he sure can do that.”
“To sell? For me to sell?” she asked numbly, feeling as if the morning had suddenly gone into fast-forward—but she hadn’t.
He nodded. “They sell them in large bags for bakeries, but he said he thought they might have some in smaller packets for retail sale.”
“Wow.” That was all she could manage as he moved in a blur. Maybe she was still too groggy from sleep to keep up with him.
“You look like you could use some coffee,” he said sympathetically. “I didn’t know what you had here so I also brought—ta-da!—a thermos from Panda’s. It’s a blend called Spice of the Season. It has some cinnamon in it and nutmeg, ginger and a few other mysterious ingredients I couldn’t divulge to anyone, including my own dear mother. Trade secret.”
He had even brought cups.
She pulled out two chairs from a wrought-iron table set and pushed the display of angel-animal beanbags on the tabletop out of the way. “We can sit here.”
Cora was over like a silver flash.
“Is it okay if I feed her?” he asked as the cat looked lovingly up at him.
Tess could see her having to feed Cora only gourmet food and pastries for the rest of her life, and she fought it as hard as she could. Her cat needed healthy food, not this table-scraps stuff.
But the fight was lost as soon as she saw Cora’s goo-goo gaze resting adoringly on Jake. “Sure, go ahead,” she heard herself saying.
She took a sip of the coffee and almost choked. It was twice as strong as the way she usually drank it.
“Don’t you like it?” Jake asked as her eyebrows shot up at the bitterness.
“It’s a bit thick,” she said.
“It is?” He poured himself a cup. “I haven’t tried it yet, but we try to keep it at a constant level of strength.”
He took a sip and sighed. “No, this is right. Try it again.”
She did, and to her surprise she liked it.
“I guess I’m not used to tasting the coffee flavor so much, but I do like it.”
“How late are you open today?” he asked.
“Five-ish. Why?”
“Would you be interested in seeing Panda’s? I know you’ve been there already, but I’d like to show you the roaster and the back rooms. It’s really quite an operation.”
“Do I get to sample?”
“Everything.”
“Only if I can have decaf. If I drink coffee after four in the afternoon, I get wired and will be up all night.”
“Decaf?” He said the word with scorn. “That’s like artificial coffee.” But then he grinned at her to let her know he was teasing. “We have decaf. And it’s pretty spectacular if I do say so myself. And if you want to, we can eat supper at Panda’s, too.”
“I didn’t know you served dinner,” Tess said.
“We do now. A woman moved here from Santa Barbara who does incredible things with sun-dried tomatoes and sprouts that will set your tongue singing.”
He’d hit upon her second food weakness, sun-dried tomatoes. A day with sun-dried tomatoes and angel-decorated pastries was almost too good to be believed.
He picked her up at five o’clock sharp.
Panda’s was larger than she’d remembered. The grounds were landscaped now with small trees draped with lights. “At dusk they’ll come on. During the Christmas season each tree has a different color of lights. Otherwise, when the leaves are off the trees, they’re all white.”
She looked at the trees curiously. “What color are they?”
He began pointing them out. “That one is purple, that one turquoise, and that one green. That one is gold.”
“Not exactly the traditional Christmas colors,” she noted.
He nodded. “But at night, when they’re all glowing, the scene is rich and spectacular. Those colors remind me of the three kings—now here I go getting sentimental about Christmas, but I remember three gigantic Wise Men Mom always had inside the front door. One had a turquoise robe, one a purple robe, and one a green one. And each was highlighted with gold.”
“So these colors remind you of those Wise Men?” she asked.
“They sure do.” His mouth broke int
o a wry grin. “Then one memorable Christmas my sister and I came flying in the front door, covered with snow. As soon as our boots hit the tiled floor, the rest of us hit the floor, too. We crashed right into the display. Broke Melchior’s head off, gave Balthasar a ding in his elbow, and took a chunk out of Gaspar’s foot.”
“What did your mother do?”
He laughed. “Replaced those plaster statues with brass ones. She said the next time we did something like that, we’d be the ones with the gouges.”
“She sounds like a neat lady,” Tess commented.
“She is.”
She could smell the coffee even before they reached the door. She wrinkled her nose, and he chuckled.
“The aroma is a bit strong when the roaster’s going. For some it’s better than perfume. Others would rather have a face-to-face encounter with a skunk.”
He guided her inside the store. The building was made of rosy brick and smoked glass, a combination that shouldn’t have worked but did. She said as much.
“I wish I could take credit for it, but it has to do with an argument between the contractor and the architect. I don’t know all the details of it, but it sure did make for a striking building,” he explained.
The interior picked up the same color themes, pink and gray, she noted as her eyes began the slow adjustment to the dimmed lights after the bright sunlit glitter of the snow outside.
And there she was. Faith. Looking just as zany and happy as she had in Angel’s Roost. Tess was relieved to see she wasn’t holding a sign advertising “World’s Most Heavenly Coffee.”
He hadn’t lied when he said Panda’s had a place for her. In a little sheltered alcove off to the side of the entrance, she held court. Her nook was lined with pink and green flowered tiles that matched the colors in her face and dress exactly.
And below it, a discreet card with carefully written letters done in a flowing calligraphic hand that said merely “Angel’s Roost” and her address.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” she protested. “You own her.”
“As much as one can, I guess. We had the card made, and I’m glad we did because we get many comments on the angel and questions about where we found her. Having the card there frees up my staff from those endless questions about where we got her, are there others like her, what kinds of things are at Angel’s Roost, and on and on.”
“I wish!”
“Truly Faith has generated a sizable interest since she arrived. We’re delighted she’s here.”
She walked over and straightened Faith’s halo, which was once again tilted. “I miss the old girl,” she said. “And I think Cora does, too. She used to wrap around Faith when the late-morning sun poured in through the window and take her morning snooze. Now she just sprawls in the space.”
“Maybe she’s enjoying having it all to herself,” he suggested.
“Who knows what Cora thinks? Her mind doesn’t operate the same way mine does, that’s for sure. I think her brain operates mainly on a need basis: ‘I need food; I need a nap.’ ”
He led her back through the dining area. Most of the seats and booths were filled. Mixed in with the college crowd were families, people on their breaks from work, and some older women sharing a chocolate concoction that looked as if it had a week’s worth of calories.
As they went through the swinging doors into the kitchen area, a tall, gangly young man stopped Jake. “Dude, I’ve got five finals this week. I cannot believe it. Cannot. So I’ve got to, like, cut back on my hours this week. Majorly. Is that cool?”
Tess bit her lip to avoid laughing. This youth was obviously the same one who had told Jake, “Your big machine has gone blooey.” Jake had nailed the student’s inflections down to the very last detail.
She glanced around while Jake and Todd, as his name turned out to be, hammered out the workweek schedule. The kitchen was spotless. Chrome and glass gleamed. The cups were neatly aligned inside glass-fronted cupboards, and the countertops sparkled like those on television advertisements.
“So what do you think?” Jake asked, rejoining her after having finished talking with Todd.
“Is it always this clean and shiny back here?”
“Todd. He is an absolute clean freak so I let him sanitize his little heart out. Panda’s always earns top ratings by the health department, and I value that highly.”
She nodded. She’d seen the scores published in the newspaper, and it always made her cringe when one of her favorite eateries was given a low mark.
He led her to a large barrel-shaped machine. “This baby is the roaster. I’m the only shop in town that has one of these. It used to be that if you offered freshly ground coffee, you were on the cutting edge. That’s old news. Now people are discovering how rich and tasty freshly roasted coffee is, and that’s one of my major attractions here—besides Faith, of course.”
“Of course,” she murmured.
She walked around the impressive machine. “Is it fixed now?”
“Yes. Cost me an arm and a leg. I had to fly the certified repairman in, but it was cheaper than packing the machine up and freighting it to Minneapolis for warranty work. Besides, then I wouldn’t have it while it was on its way, being fixed, and sent back.”
“I didn’t realize how competitive this business is.” She frowned. “To have your entire business revolve around a roaster …”
“Well, I like to think it’s more than that. Panda’s offers some terrific food, too, especially desserts and now sandwiches. Speaking of which, are you ready for dinner?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Her sandwich was a masterful creation of sun-dried tomatoes, sprouts, and some interesting cheeses she’d never heard of before. He insisted that she try a new dessert, chocolate cake drizzled with pastel-blue mint syrup.
He disappeared into the kitchen with it and came out a few moments later, bearing it as if it were a royal gift of gold.
She smiled as she saw what he had done. Topping it was a sprinkle of those tiny white angel candies.
“Give me your opinion, please,” he begged as she ate the first forkful. “Do the angels add anything to it?”
She gave him her response, which was enthusiastic. He sat back in the seat, satisfied.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “I hope now I’ll see more of you here.”
“I’ll certainly try harder. But the problem is, I just don’t get down to this part of town very often.”
“I know what you mean.” He crossed his arms over his chest and lapsed into unhappy thought for a while. “This is part of my problem.”
“That I don’t get to this part of town?”
“Well, sure, but I mean the way this town is divided into two clear business parts.” He motioned to the others seated around them. “I don’t know if I can give all of this up. I don’t know if I should. Panda’s is doing well here, but can it sustain itself? What if someone else gets a roaster?”
“Oh, it can’t be as simplistic as that,” she protested. “There’s an ambiance here. And you said yourself that you’ve developed a clientele.”
“Sure. But look at them. For the most part this is their section of town. Maybe the college students would follow me downtown since the university is as close to downtown as it is to the End. But maybe not.”
He pushed his chair back and stood up. “But the fact of the matter is that it’s been a bright and beautiful winter day, and I’m with a bright and beautiful woman, and I don’t want to talk about anything that is not bright and beautiful. Let’s go!”
She hastily swallowed the last of her coffee and wiped her lips. “Where are we going?” she asked as she shrugged into her coat.
“Shopping!”
Chapter 7
She tried to object as he bustled her into the car. “But I don’t have any money with me. I’m not ready to do my shopping. I haven’t given it any thought. I don’t want to go to the mall on a Saturday.”
The truth was
that the last reason was the real one. She abhorred going to the mall on the weekend, especially when it was busy. And the first Saturday after Thanksgiving, the mall was going to be wild, especially as people began their Christmas shopping in earnest.
He apparently didn’t hear anything she was saying, or he chose to ignore it. Instead he began singing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” as loudly as he could.
“ ‘Six geese a-laying—’ ”
“I said I don’t want to go sho—”
“ ‘Five gooooooolden rings!’ ”
She gave up and glared out the window. She hated the mall, absolutely, completely, totally hated it. She had to carry her coat because she was too hot with it on. And if she bought anything, then she had to carry that as well as her coat and her hat and her mittens and her purse. Her arms ached at the thought.
And her feet got sweaty in the mall, and then she’d climb into her unheatable van where her toes froze into ice chunks on the way home because they’d been wet inside her boots.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. He drove right past the mall.
“Um, Jake, the mall—?”
“ ‘Four calling birds,’ ” he warbled. “ ‘Three French hens—’ ”
“You went by it already. Jake, Jake.” She tugged on his sleeve. “It was back there.”
“ ‘Two turtle doves and a parrrrrtridge in a pear tree.’ ” He flung his right arm out in a triumphant finale. “Sorry, Tess—did you say something?”
“The mall was back there. You drove past it.”
“You wanted to go to the mall?”
She could have throttled him. “You said you wanted to go shopping,” she reminded him, her words measured and spoken with a calm she didn’t feel.
“You don’t strike me as the mall type,” he said. “Do you want to go? I can turn around, although I must admit this surprises me. This is a side of you I’ve not seen before.”
She couldn’t tolerate it any longer. She growled at him. Bared her teeth and snarled.
“Okay,” he said, whistling through his teeth. “We won’t go to the mall.”
