Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Vivian frowned as she tasted the cup of coffee that she’d just made. There was something a little off about it, and she wondered if she hadn’t put in enough coffee grounds.
She was at the pub on a sunny Thursday morning, bustling about making sure everything was running smoothly. She’d been at the pub a lot more often than usual lately, and she kept telling everyone it was because she got too bored at home. She knew the truth, however, although she was barely admitting it to herself. She wanted to be at the pub so much so that she could be sure to be there when Alan came back for his next Monte Cristo sandwich with the secret sauce.
She started to inspect the coffee maker, wondering if she’d been so distracted that she’d forgotten to put in enough coffee grounds. In the next moment, however, she heard someone call her name.
For a split second, her heart leapt up, thinking it might be Alan, but then she recognized the voice as Grayson’s. Sure enough, in the next moment she saw her son-in-law walking toward her.
“Good morning, Grayson.” She smiled at him. She liked the hard-working, thoughtful man who had married her daughter. For a while, she’d been upset with him for the way he’d neglected Alexis, but when he’d moved to Rosewood Beach to be with her, giving up his lucrative business in L.A., it proved what a heart of gold he had. “Are you here for breakfast?”
“No, just some Tapioca pudding. For Alexis.”
“We’ve got some if you want it! But Alexis just said the other day that she doesn’t like pudding anymore.”
He shrugged. “That’s what she said she wanted. I’m just the messenger.” He laughed as he added, “And I think it’s worth a try. Her cravings are so unpredictable, she probably loves pudding again now. Besides, I wouldn’t dare contradict my pregnant wife and not get what she told me to get her.”
“You’re a wise man. Let me get you some of the pudding in a mason jar.”
Vivian went into the kitchen and scooped a generous amount of Tapioca pudding into a mason jar for Alexis. On the lid of the jar, she drew a heart and “from Mom” with a sharpie.
“There you are,” she said, going back out into the dining room and handing Grayson the jar. “I hope she likes it. That poor girl’s tastebuds have been all over the place. You’re sweet to take care of her like this.”
He smiled. “This is nothing. It was when she sent me out for peanut butter ice cream in the middle of the night. That was a true labor of love.”
She chuckled. “You’re a good man. I remember I sent Frank out a few times in the middle of the night. Once, I think it was for banana pudding. It made me feel so much better once I got to eat it.”
“Well, hopefully this tapioca pudding makes Alexis feel better.” He shook his head wryly. “Her cravings have really been all over the place, and half the time what she thinks will satisfy her craving turns out to be the wrong thing. She deserves a break.”
“So do you.” Vivian patted his hand. “Hang in there. Alexis is lucky to have a partner as supportive as you.”
“Thanks, Vivian. That means a lot to me.” He smiled warmly at her, looking touched.
“Of course.” She returned his smile. “Let me know if this works for her or not!”
“I will!”
Just as Grayson was walking out of The Lighthouse Grill, Terrence walked in. He was smiling broadly, and he waved eagerly at Vivian as soon as he saw her.
“Terrence.” She shook his hand, smiling politely. She liked the health inspector, and he’d been a good friend to her during the Christmas season, but every time she saw him, she felt worried that he was going to find something wrong with the pub. “Welcome in.”
“Thank you, Vivian.” He removed his hat with a carefulness that was almost bashful. “I couldn’t stay away from this wonderful food.”
She smiled. “Glad we have your approval! You are the health inspector, after all.”
“Just think of me as Terrence, would you please?”
“Not Mr. Rawlins, the health inspector? I’m not sure I can,” she teased. “You’ve got such a serious face.”
He looked grave. “Do I?”
She laughed, and gestured for him to come sit down at the counter. “Come on and take a seat here. What would you like to eat?”
“I’ll take the lasagna,” he told her. “I’ve been hankering for it ever since I was here last. That meatloaf and mashed potatoes were divine, but I want to try the lasagna again.”
“You got it.”
She ducked into the kitchen to put in Terrence’s order, and then, after getting him a glass of water, went back to puzzling over the coffee that she’d made. The coffee maker was behind the counter, and Terrence watched her with polite interest while she poked around inside the coffee maker.
“Coffee maker acting up?” he asked her.
“No,” she assured him hurriedly. “It works perfectly. Not a hazard or anything like that.”
Terrence shook his head, chuckling. “Vivian. Please. I’m off duty.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I know you’re the kind of man who notices what’s wrong with establishments even when he isn’t working. And cares.”
Terrence grimaced guiltily. “You might be right about that. But I trust you. You’re different.”
She smiled at the compliment, and then sighed as she turned back to the coffee maker. She had put in plenty of coffee grounds, but when she went to take another sip of the coffee she’d made, she found that the taste was still off.
It’s not weak, I guess, she thought. But it’s all wrong. Not enough flavor, and too bitter.
“What’s the matter?” Terrence asked her. “Your expression is very serious. There must be something quite wrong with that coffee.”
“I assure you, it’s perfectly safe!” she exclaimed with impatience, and then they both burst out laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry, Terrence. It’s just that I don’t know why it isn’t tasting right.”
“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the coffee pot.
“I don’t see why not.” She sighed and poured him half a mug full of coffee. She didn’t want to pour him a full one, since she assumed he just wanted to taste the coffee. She doubted he would want to finish a mug once he had tasted it.
“It just doesn’t taste the way it used to,” she said, handing him the mug. “Maybe the brand we’ve been buying isn’t producing the high-quality coffee that they used to.”
He nodded. “That’s a smart theory. That sort of thing has certainly been known to happen.” He took a sip out of the mug, and immediately made a sour face.
Vivian sighed. She should have known better than to give someone as fussy as Terrence the bad coffee she’d made—then again, she reflected, if it really was that bad, they shouldn’t be giving it to anyone.
“It’s not good, is it?” she asked.
He shook his head and cleared his throat, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “Unfortunately, it isn’t. It has a remarkably high level of acidity. Perhaps the beans were roasted for too long.”
“That’s probably true. I want to assure you, though, that our coffee doesn’t usually taste like this. We’re known for making a good cup of coffee.”
He laughed, a pleasant sound like a squeaky gate. “Vivian, I’m the health inspector, not the coffee police. Besides, I know. I’ve had your coffee before. It’s always been excellent. Not like this stuff.”
“Well, thank you. Maybe it’s just a bad batch, and another bag will be better.”
“Maybe. But if I were you, I’d recommend switching brands entirely. If a company is willing to put out coffee of this quality, they don’t care very much about maintaining high standards, that’s for sure.”
“I should have known you’d be just as finicky about your coffee as you are with your job,” she said dryly.
He grinned, which was an unexpectedly charismatic response. “I find good coffee to be nearly as important as following health codes.”
She knew it was an exaggeration, and she laughed. She felt glad that he’d liked their coffee before, if he was so picky about it.
“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I’ll bring coffee from one of my favorite roasteries for you to try next time. They have a variety of flavors, but I’ll bring you a classic medium roast. That’s what you use here at the pub, isn’t it?”
She blinked, surprised by his ability to taste the type of coffee so precisely and disarmed by his kindness. “I—yes, that would be wonderful, thank you, Terrence. I appreciate your help.”
He smiled, nodding. “Of course. I’m always happy to help out responsible establishments like The Lighthouse Grill.”
She smiled back at him, feeling touched by what a good friend he was. He was coming to her rescue yet again, and she was grateful. She also appreciated the way he referred to The Lighthouse Grill as a responsible establishment in such a casual tone, as if it was information that everyone already knew.
“Should I throw the rest of this coffee away, do you think?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Most people won’t be able to tell the difference, not really. Just coffee connoisseurs like you and me.”
She laughed. “I’d hardly describe myself that way. Just a woman trying to run a business well.”
“See? Responsible.”
“Can’t have customers drinking unpleasant coffee.”
“Certainly not. Well, maybe upon occasion. Like today. Special circumstances.”
“Yes, special circumstances.” She laughed and started to tidy up the counter. Terrence’s lasagna arrived a moment later, and while he ate, she started to think about how kind he was being to her.
He seems like a faithful, upstanding man, she thought. I’m glad to have him as a friend.
Before she had the time to think too much more about it, the front door of the pub opened again, and Alan stepped inside.
Vivian’s heart leapt up, and although a smile quickly sprang onto her face, she was immediately flustered. She hurriedly checked her hair in the distorted reflection offered her by the glossy sides of the coffee maker.
“Vivian!” Alan called out to her, raising a hand in greeting. “Glad to see you again.”
“Hello, Alan.” She waved at him as she stepped out from behind the counter. “Welcome back to The Lighthouse Grill.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Terrence turn around and look at Alan, but she couldn’t see his expression. She forgot about Terrence a moment later when Alan took her hand and gave it a firm shake.
“Very happy to be back. I’d love to order that Monte Cristo sandwich again. With the secret sauce on the side.” He winked at her as if the sauce was their secret, and she laughed.
“You’ve got it! One Monte Cristo sandwich, coming right up. With the sauce.”
“Thank goodness. I was worried you might have run out.”
She shook her head, feeling proud that she’d made sure that they wouldn’t run out of the sauce. “We have the secret sauce already made, and we’re well-stocked on all the ingredients. I made sure of it. Go ahead and take a seat anywhere you like, and I’ll bring your sandwich out to you when it’s ready.”
She stepped inside the kitchen and called to Allison, “Could you make a Monte Cristo sandwich with sweet potato fries on the side?”
Allison turned around, looking confused. “That’s not our special today, and it’s not on the regular menu either. Who’s ordering it?”
“A friend of mine. I know it’s not on the menu today, but I made sure we had the ingredients for it. It’s all in the refrigerator.”
Allison gave her a quizzical look, then shrugged and smiled. “You got it, boss. Someone’s getting special treatment, I guess.”
Vivian coughed softly and left the kitchen before Allison could catch her blushing.
She went to fill a glass with water for Alan. As she was bringing it to his table, Terrence called to her. She turned, surprised.
“Yes, Terrence?” she asked briskly. “Did you need something?”
He cleared his throat. “No, I was just going to assure you that I’ll bring in that coffee for you to try. Maybe a couple of different kinds, and you can pick which one you like best.”
“That’s great, thank you.” She smiled hurriedly at him and kept walking, her thoughts entirely on Alan.