Read Online Coffeehouse Angel by Suzanne Selfors - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Suzanne Selfors
Ads: Link
Anna said, giving me an extra-tight hug. "We heard all about Vincent saving that man's life. Some of those news station vans pulled up. I got to meet Brad Stone. You know, the anchor from channel seven. He came into the shop with his crew."
"Really?" I unwound my scarf and took off my coat. "What did they order?"
My grandmother stared at her sensible shoes. Silence filled the space between us like poison gas.
"Grandma?"
"They didn't order anything. They thought this was the entrance to Java Heaven. They had some coupons."
Coulda put money on that one.
"Okay, we've got a situation." I leaned on the counter. Irmgaard stopped stirring her carrot soup. "Remember last Solstice, how Mr. Darling gave out those heavenly cloud cookies and all those people lined up?" Irmgaard and Grandma nodded. "This year it could be even worse."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, this year Mr. Darling will be selling coffee named after Vincent. Our Vincent."
"Oh dear." Grandma Anna rubbed the back of her neck.
"So, I think we should create a Vincent drink of our own. Only, it's got to be better than Mr. Darling's. And we'll have the real Vincent here, in the shop, handing out the coffee."
"We will?"
"Of course. I haven't asked him yet, but he'll do it. He loves us."
"He's a good boy."
"But someone has to go next door and buy one of those drinks so we can see what it tastes like. We need to know what we're up against." It would be difficult enough to try to outbrew Mr. Darling, but we first had to get our hands on the drink itself, and we lived by the law of never setting foot inside Java Heaven. "What about one of The Boys?" I asked.
"Oh no." Grandma Anna cleaned carrot peelings from the counter. "They're my friends. I won't send them into that horrid place. I'll call Officer Larsen. Tell him it's an emergency."
"But it's not an emergency." I drummed my fingers on the counter. I wouldn't ask my friends to go in there either. My two friends. It was a matter of pride, but I also secretly feared that they might never emerge, once they had tasted the dark side.
"We could just ask a stranger. Someone walking down the street," I suggested.
"And what if that stranger told Mr. Darling that it was one of us who wanted the drink? Over my dead body. I won't give him the satisfaction." Grandma Anna tightened her apron. "Not a drop of his coffee will ever touch my lips!"
"I'll be the one to taste the Vincent Mocha," I said, a martyr to the cause. "But we've got to figure out how to get one."
I peered out the front picture window. A Java Heaven employee strolled the sidewalk, handing out tiny sample cups to passersby. His apron, with its cloud logo, was as crisp and white as a brand-new bedsheet--quite blinding beneath the somber late-afternoon sky. He called out to someone, then walked right past our windows. I cracked open the door to eavesdrop.
"Hey buddy. Would you like to try our new drink? It's called the Vincent Mocha, named after our local hero."
"I'll give it a wee taste."
Oh, I knew that voice.
Nine
I shoved my head out the door and peered up the sidewalk. There he stood in his kilt-wearing glory. The Java Heaven employee handed him a sample. "Hope you like it."
"Thank you," Malcolm said. "I'm quite fond of coffee. There was a particular blend in Egypt that was only picked by moonlight and only served to the pharaohs. I wasn't around then, but I've been told that the moon's reflection could be seen in the brew."
"Wild. Well, have a nice day."
I pretended to clean the window as the employee returned to Java Heaven. Then I hurried up the sidewalk. "Um, hello again. Malcolm, right? Um, what's that? It looks like coffee. Yep, that looks like a sample cup of coffee. Is that what it is?"
Smoooooooth. Throw acting into the Closet of Failure.
He held the tiny cup. Chocolate shavings adorned a miniature dollop of whipped cream. A peppermint stick stuck out the top. It looked like a candy straw. Would those evil Java Heaven elves stop at
"Really?" I unwound my scarf and took off my coat. "What did they order?"
My grandmother stared at her sensible shoes. Silence filled the space between us like poison gas.
"Grandma?"
"They didn't order anything. They thought this was the entrance to Java Heaven. They had some coupons."
Coulda put money on that one.
"Okay, we've got a situation." I leaned on the counter. Irmgaard stopped stirring her carrot soup. "Remember last Solstice, how Mr. Darling gave out those heavenly cloud cookies and all those people lined up?" Irmgaard and Grandma nodded. "This year it could be even worse."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, this year Mr. Darling will be selling coffee named after Vincent. Our Vincent."
"Oh dear." Grandma Anna rubbed the back of her neck.
"So, I think we should create a Vincent drink of our own. Only, it's got to be better than Mr. Darling's. And we'll have the real Vincent here, in the shop, handing out the coffee."
"We will?"
"Of course. I haven't asked him yet, but he'll do it. He loves us."
"He's a good boy."
"But someone has to go next door and buy one of those drinks so we can see what it tastes like. We need to know what we're up against." It would be difficult enough to try to outbrew Mr. Darling, but we first had to get our hands on the drink itself, and we lived by the law of never setting foot inside Java Heaven. "What about one of The Boys?" I asked.
"Oh no." Grandma Anna cleaned carrot peelings from the counter. "They're my friends. I won't send them into that horrid place. I'll call Officer Larsen. Tell him it's an emergency."
"But it's not an emergency." I drummed my fingers on the counter. I wouldn't ask my friends to go in there either. My two friends. It was a matter of pride, but I also secretly feared that they might never emerge, once they had tasted the dark side.
"We could just ask a stranger. Someone walking down the street," I suggested.
"And what if that stranger told Mr. Darling that it was one of us who wanted the drink? Over my dead body. I won't give him the satisfaction." Grandma Anna tightened her apron. "Not a drop of his coffee will ever touch my lips!"
"I'll be the one to taste the Vincent Mocha," I said, a martyr to the cause. "But we've got to figure out how to get one."
I peered out the front picture window. A Java Heaven employee strolled the sidewalk, handing out tiny sample cups to passersby. His apron, with its cloud logo, was as crisp and white as a brand-new bedsheet--quite blinding beneath the somber late-afternoon sky. He called out to someone, then walked right past our windows. I cracked open the door to eavesdrop.
"Hey buddy. Would you like to try our new drink? It's called the Vincent Mocha, named after our local hero."
"I'll give it a wee taste."
Oh, I knew that voice.
Nine
I shoved my head out the door and peered up the sidewalk. There he stood in his kilt-wearing glory. The Java Heaven employee handed him a sample. "Hope you like it."
"Thank you," Malcolm said. "I'm quite fond of coffee. There was a particular blend in Egypt that was only picked by moonlight and only served to the pharaohs. I wasn't around then, but I've been told that the moon's reflection could be seen in the brew."
"Wild. Well, have a nice day."
I pretended to clean the window as the employee returned to Java Heaven. Then I hurried up the sidewalk. "Um, hello again. Malcolm, right? Um, what's that? It looks like coffee. Yep, that looks like a sample cup of coffee. Is that what it is?"
Smoooooooth. Throw acting into the Closet of Failure.
He held the tiny cup. Chocolate shavings adorned a miniature dollop of whipped cream. A peppermint stick stuck out the top. It looked like a candy straw. Would those evil Java Heaven elves stop at
Similar Books
