Read Online A Cup of Jo by Sandra Balzo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sandra Balzo
Tags: cozy mystery
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returned from the grocery store, to deal with Sarah and the customers, so I could go back to the office. I was riffling through the papers on my desk, in search of the bill for the damn cup, when Tien stuck her head in the doorway.
'You're back,' I said, finding the invoice I was looking for. $953, including tax. Kevin had thrown in the saucer for free – I'd been fully prepared to go saucerless, in order to keep the tab under a grand.
Tien smiled brightly, lifting the loaded plastic grocery bags she held in each hand. 'Got all my supplies and I'm itching to cook.'
'Whatever you do, don't show Amy those plastic bags. She hounded me about our old foam cups, so we switched to cardboard.'
The cups were more expensive and less insulating, but they qualified as eco-friendly. The landfills and our 'progeny' would thank me, Amy had said.
'Oh, I know.' Tien set down one hand's worth of bags and pulled out a folded-up tote. 'She's already given me a "reusable".'
She shook the cream-colored fabric to open it up.
'Uncommon Grounds' in dark blue letters on the front of it, matching navy handles.
Tien swiveled her wrist like a baton-twirler to turn the bag around. A picture of the earth adorned the back.
Huh. 'Nice.'
' Really nice,' Tien agreed, stashing it and picking up her groceries. 'And brilliant convergence, too. Grounds/Earth? You're a genius, Maggy.'
Was I? Because if I'd ordered the reusable tote bags, I'd misplaced the memory, not so unusual these days. But when had I done it? And from what supplier?
Like I said, Huh.
Tien continued into the kitchen and I abandoned the bills to return to our service counter. Though I'd heard a number of customers coming in and out, thanks to the sleigh bells that hung from our front door, no one was there at the time.
I looked at the clock. Six twenty.
Amy and Sarah were standing at the espresso machine, my partner tamping finely ground powder into a portafilter, a small metal basket, handle attached.
Sarah frowned. 'Now what, Amy?'
'You twist it on . . . here.' Our barista was pointing to one of two fittings on the machine.
Sarah looked at her.
Amy smiled. 'Like this.' She took an empty portafilter, held it up to the fitting and then twisted to engage it.
'Ah.' Sarah followed suit. 'That was easy. Next step?' She threw me a look that said, 'Now here's a natural teacher.'
'OK. Cup below the spout.' Amy pointed at a miniature metal pitcher and Sarah placed it under the portafilter's basket. 'Just push the button.'
Uncertainty crossed Sarah's face, but she complied.
'And voila!' Amy's big hoop earrings swung as she nodded in approval.
'Is the milk already steamed?' I asked. Usually we poured milk into a full-size version of the metal pitcher and frothed the liquid so it could rest as the espresso was brewed. That way you didn't get a cupful of milk-flavored hot air that would dissipate the moment you left the shop, leaving you with half a drink.
'Maggy, this is a system of building blocks.' A warning expression on Amy's face. 'Today we learned how to make espresso, right?'
But Sarah, seemingly oblivious to my critique, was busily focused on pouring her 'baby' into a tiny porcelain cup. 'Uh-huh.'
'Tomorrow,' Amy continued, 'I'll show Sarah what else she can do using the espresso.'
If Sarah didn't wipe the Cheshire Cat grin from her lips, I'd show her what to do with it.
As my partner moved away to get a matching, miniature saucer, I turned to Amy. 'Don't tell me. You were a kindergarten teacher?'
Before answering, she checked Sarah's position. 'Pre-school. You wouldn't believe how often it comes in handy.'
I nodded at our cash register. 'Think you can run me through Money and Change 101?'
Amy appeared puzzled. 'But the installer showed us, remember?'
'Yes, only I've pretty much forgotten everything he said.' I opened the drawer under the register and rifled through. 'I don't even know where we keep our list of codes.'
'Right here.' Amy slid the card out from below
'You're back,' I said, finding the invoice I was looking for. $953, including tax. Kevin had thrown in the saucer for free – I'd been fully prepared to go saucerless, in order to keep the tab under a grand.
Tien smiled brightly, lifting the loaded plastic grocery bags she held in each hand. 'Got all my supplies and I'm itching to cook.'
'Whatever you do, don't show Amy those plastic bags. She hounded me about our old foam cups, so we switched to cardboard.'
The cups were more expensive and less insulating, but they qualified as eco-friendly. The landfills and our 'progeny' would thank me, Amy had said.
'Oh, I know.' Tien set down one hand's worth of bags and pulled out a folded-up tote. 'She's already given me a "reusable".'
She shook the cream-colored fabric to open it up.
'Uncommon Grounds' in dark blue letters on the front of it, matching navy handles.
Tien swiveled her wrist like a baton-twirler to turn the bag around. A picture of the earth adorned the back.
Huh. 'Nice.'
' Really nice,' Tien agreed, stashing it and picking up her groceries. 'And brilliant convergence, too. Grounds/Earth? You're a genius, Maggy.'
Was I? Because if I'd ordered the reusable tote bags, I'd misplaced the memory, not so unusual these days. But when had I done it? And from what supplier?
Like I said, Huh.
Tien continued into the kitchen and I abandoned the bills to return to our service counter. Though I'd heard a number of customers coming in and out, thanks to the sleigh bells that hung from our front door, no one was there at the time.
I looked at the clock. Six twenty.
Amy and Sarah were standing at the espresso machine, my partner tamping finely ground powder into a portafilter, a small metal basket, handle attached.
Sarah frowned. 'Now what, Amy?'
'You twist it on . . . here.' Our barista was pointing to one of two fittings on the machine.
Sarah looked at her.
Amy smiled. 'Like this.' She took an empty portafilter, held it up to the fitting and then twisted to engage it.
'Ah.' Sarah followed suit. 'That was easy. Next step?' She threw me a look that said, 'Now here's a natural teacher.'
'OK. Cup below the spout.' Amy pointed at a miniature metal pitcher and Sarah placed it under the portafilter's basket. 'Just push the button.'
Uncertainty crossed Sarah's face, but she complied.
'And voila!' Amy's big hoop earrings swung as she nodded in approval.
'Is the milk already steamed?' I asked. Usually we poured milk into a full-size version of the metal pitcher and frothed the liquid so it could rest as the espresso was brewed. That way you didn't get a cupful of milk-flavored hot air that would dissipate the moment you left the shop, leaving you with half a drink.
'Maggy, this is a system of building blocks.' A warning expression on Amy's face. 'Today we learned how to make espresso, right?'
But Sarah, seemingly oblivious to my critique, was busily focused on pouring her 'baby' into a tiny porcelain cup. 'Uh-huh.'
'Tomorrow,' Amy continued, 'I'll show Sarah what else she can do using the espresso.'
If Sarah didn't wipe the Cheshire Cat grin from her lips, I'd show her what to do with it.
As my partner moved away to get a matching, miniature saucer, I turned to Amy. 'Don't tell me. You were a kindergarten teacher?'
Before answering, she checked Sarah's position. 'Pre-school. You wouldn't believe how often it comes in handy.'
I nodded at our cash register. 'Think you can run me through Money and Change 101?'
Amy appeared puzzled. 'But the installer showed us, remember?'
'Yes, only I've pretty much forgotten everything he said.' I opened the drawer under the register and rifled through. 'I don't even know where we keep our list of codes.'
'Right here.' Amy slid the card out from below
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