Read Online Coffeehouse Angel by Suzanne Selfors - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Selfors
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nothing? Who in their right mind could resist such a concoction? Malcolm cleared his throat, breaking my hungry stare.
"You seem to be wanting this." He balanced the cup in his palm.
"Oh, careful." I tried to snatch it, but he moved out of reach.
"You want this, that's for sure." He frowned. "Why should I give it to you? You wouldn't listen to me."
I looked over my shoulder, to make certain that no one from Java Heaven was eavesdropping. Irmgaard and Grandma Anna, however, pressed their faces against the picture window. "If you give that to me, then you'll have given me what I most desire." Excellent answer. "That's what you want, right? That's the law, right?"
He shifted his weight. The cup wobbled precariously. "You told me that fortune was what you most desired."
"I was confused. I didn't know. But now I know. What I actually desire is that cup of coffee." My fingers twitched. I just wanted to grab it. Would the coffee be flavored with something exotic like organic Ecuadorian free-trade rainforest-saving cinnamon?
"A wee cup of coffee is what you most desire? But you work in a coffeehouse. Why would you want this particular cup? Is it special in some way?"
"Just give it to me," I said between clenched teeth. "Please."
"I suspect you're trying to trick me, just like you did with the pencil." His expression remained serious.
"I'm not."
"I'll give it to you under one condition."
"What?"
"That after I complete my delivery, you will tell me what you most desire. No deceptions."
"Fine. Whatever." I took the cup.
"I'll be back." He switched his satchel to the other shoulder, then walked up the sidewalk, his kilt sashaying with each long step. His calf muscles bulged. Messengers probably needed strong legs. And his legs had just the right amount of hair. Probably soft hair, not prickly like Vincent's legs when the hair started to grow back after a swim meet.
"Oh my God, did you see him?"
"He's so cute."
"Who is he?"
Heidi Darling rounded the corner, arm in arm with a couple of girlfriends. Matching lime sherbet earmuffs clung to their bobbing heads. Honest to God, if Heidi Darling wore a grocery bag on her head, then a bunch of other people would start wearing grocery bags on their heads. Elizabeth once made a vest out of grocery bags for a recycling project. She wore it a few times but it never caught on.
Standing there, red-handed, my brain kind of froze. But Heidi's legs didn't freeze. She sped down that sidewalk, a smirk taking up half her face. "So, Katrina, I see you're drinking our coffee now. I don't blame you. The Vincent Mocha is the best."
"I'm not drinking it."
"Why are you holding it, then?"
"I'm not holding it." I marched over to the garbage can and tossed the sample cup and its contents. What else could I do? It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Like when a vegetarian gets caught with a hunk of prime rib.
Heidi followed me. So did her clones. "Well, it's sure to be a hit. Vincent's famous.
We're such good friends."
That really got me. I wanted to say, "He's not your friend, he's my friend." Imagine if we all went around telling people exactly what we were thinking--we'd all sound like a bunch of third graders. MY Vincent drink will be so much better than YOUR Vincent drink.
Instead, I pretended not to care. "Whatever," I mumbled, hurrying back to the safety of Anna's, right into my grandmother's overly curious gaze.
"Do you know that boy?" Grandma Anna asked.
"What boy?"
"The one who gave you the coffee?"
"No. I don't know him."
"Oh. That's too bad. I thought maybe he was a new friend." She limped toward her desk. Her legs always stiffened at the end of the day. "I don't know how they expect people to buy such small cups of coffee. Who would buy such a tiny cup? Maybe someone with anorexia."
"Those are sample cups," I explained. "They're free."
"Free?" Grandma Anna shuffled through the mail pile. "How can they afford to give away so many samples? Organic coffee is
"You seem to be wanting this." He balanced the cup in his palm.
"Oh, careful." I tried to snatch it, but he moved out of reach.
"You want this, that's for sure." He frowned. "Why should I give it to you? You wouldn't listen to me."
I looked over my shoulder, to make certain that no one from Java Heaven was eavesdropping. Irmgaard and Grandma Anna, however, pressed their faces against the picture window. "If you give that to me, then you'll have given me what I most desire." Excellent answer. "That's what you want, right? That's the law, right?"
He shifted his weight. The cup wobbled precariously. "You told me that fortune was what you most desired."
"I was confused. I didn't know. But now I know. What I actually desire is that cup of coffee." My fingers twitched. I just wanted to grab it. Would the coffee be flavored with something exotic like organic Ecuadorian free-trade rainforest-saving cinnamon?
"A wee cup of coffee is what you most desire? But you work in a coffeehouse. Why would you want this particular cup? Is it special in some way?"
"Just give it to me," I said between clenched teeth. "Please."
"I suspect you're trying to trick me, just like you did with the pencil." His expression remained serious.
"I'm not."
"I'll give it to you under one condition."
"What?"
"That after I complete my delivery, you will tell me what you most desire. No deceptions."
"Fine. Whatever." I took the cup.
"I'll be back." He switched his satchel to the other shoulder, then walked up the sidewalk, his kilt sashaying with each long step. His calf muscles bulged. Messengers probably needed strong legs. And his legs had just the right amount of hair. Probably soft hair, not prickly like Vincent's legs when the hair started to grow back after a swim meet.
"Oh my God, did you see him?"
"He's so cute."
"Who is he?"
Heidi Darling rounded the corner, arm in arm with a couple of girlfriends. Matching lime sherbet earmuffs clung to their bobbing heads. Honest to God, if Heidi Darling wore a grocery bag on her head, then a bunch of other people would start wearing grocery bags on their heads. Elizabeth once made a vest out of grocery bags for a recycling project. She wore it a few times but it never caught on.
Standing there, red-handed, my brain kind of froze. But Heidi's legs didn't freeze. She sped down that sidewalk, a smirk taking up half her face. "So, Katrina, I see you're drinking our coffee now. I don't blame you. The Vincent Mocha is the best."
"I'm not drinking it."
"Why are you holding it, then?"
"I'm not holding it." I marched over to the garbage can and tossed the sample cup and its contents. What else could I do? It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Like when a vegetarian gets caught with a hunk of prime rib.
Heidi followed me. So did her clones. "Well, it's sure to be a hit. Vincent's famous.
We're such good friends."
That really got me. I wanted to say, "He's not your friend, he's my friend." Imagine if we all went around telling people exactly what we were thinking--we'd all sound like a bunch of third graders. MY Vincent drink will be so much better than YOUR Vincent drink.
Instead, I pretended not to care. "Whatever," I mumbled, hurrying back to the safety of Anna's, right into my grandmother's overly curious gaze.
"Do you know that boy?" Grandma Anna asked.
"What boy?"
"The one who gave you the coffee?"
"No. I don't know him."
"Oh. That's too bad. I thought maybe he was a new friend." She limped toward her desk. Her legs always stiffened at the end of the day. "I don't know how they expect people to buy such small cups of coffee. Who would buy such a tiny cup? Maybe someone with anorexia."
"Those are sample cups," I explained. "They're free."
"Free?" Grandma Anna shuffled through the mail pile. "How can they afford to give away so many samples? Organic coffee is
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