Chapter 7 Better Coffee
Six hours of secluding herself in Shellee's office at the back of The Black Cat, reading through previous order forms and finding the phone numbers to talk to suppliers on the phone, Eloise exited the dark office with a stretch of her muscles in search of water and a snack.
It was Saturday, now afternoon, and she found Bess and another barista named Tess who was finishing her senior year at the high school.
When she introduced herself and let Tess in on why she was there, she got a wafting smell of a warm, city sidewalk and not one that was completely clean.
Not that Tess herself was unkempt or smelled unpleasant.
She had nice, bobbed blonde hair that showed off her cute features and she was well put together in designer jeans and a grey shirt, but about an hour after being at the shop and listening to her and Bess talk, she got the distinct feeling that Tess was the kind who didn't know how to make room for another person in conversation.
Everyone knew these people; everyone had met and sometimes avoided these people.
They, when talking with others, create a one-sided conversation.
They're often uninterested in others, their thoughts, ideas and it can feel a lot like being invisible when you are with them.
While these people can be frustrating, and at times infuriating depending on their lack of self-awareness, Eloise had always found people like Tess interesting, at least when she herself didn't feel like she was being held hostage in one of their soliloquies.
What must they have been shown about relationship to not know how to engage in relationally reciprocal conversation?
How much silence were they fed to believe it was poison?
Still. It could feel like sitting in the front-row seat of a one-person play that is not interactive and makes you want to look for the exit.
Now, she slid behind the bar where Bess was capping a drink for someone while Tess was cleaning out the grinder and talking to no one, or everyone. Only half of the cafe tables were filled, both inside and out.
She heard Tess say, "Freakishly boring which is why I said no for tonight but I might hang out with him tomorrow if I have nothing going on, you know?"
Eloise looked at Bess with a question on her face pointing to Tess who had her back to them and Bess shrugged.
She'd had Bess pick up whole bean coffee at the grocery store and the strong odor of overly roasted beans that were dry, a bit greyish in color, and old had her shaking her head.
Luckily, most coffee addicts couldn't distinguish between bad and excellent espresso or mediocre equipment like the inefficient chop blade grinder she saw them using this morning.
When she asked why they weren't using the expensive burr grinder, Tess said it hadn't been working for a few weeks and that the blade grinder worked "great. "
Eloise felt a rush of excitement. The challenge to teach and help them harness the skills to create unparalleled coffee was thrilling.
But, that would have to wait for better coffee and working equipment, so she helped them prep and open so that she could see their routine and then dove into the orders in the office.
Now that she had emerged, hungry and needing a caffeine boost, she decided to stay away from the bad espresso and opted for a green tea with honey. Also, not great, but still better.
"Is it usually this slow on a Saturday?"
Tess shrugged and Bess said it depended on the weekend though this was unusually slow.
"Tess, if you want to head out, you're good."
The blonde brightened and her tall willowy frame bounced as she threw the rag into the sanitizer bucket. "Sweet! You're not as bad as I thought you were going to be at this."
As she flounced away Eloise turned to Bess and asked, "Do I give off a bad boss vibe?"
Bess tilted her head and regarded her seriously. "I mean, you have this intense vibe, like...I wouldn't be surprised if you knew Russian because you were there during the space race."
"The..." she paused as shock rolled through her. "How old do you think I am? I came decades after the space race. I have only vague memories of the end of the Cold War, thank you very much."
"She's not wrong though," a deep voice said from the other side of the bar.
Eloise and Bess turned to see a smiling Detective White leaning against the counter.
Seeing her accidental date standing there made her pulse trip over itself.
His easy lopsided smile was attractive, but she was still trying to rub off their last encounter.
When she had mistaken him as her blind date.
"You think I look like I'm old enough to have been alive, let alone a spy, during the space race?
" She asked with an incredulous look on her face.
"I, like all women in my generation, were taught to avoid the sun like little vampires and put on moisturizer at night until we look like a glazed donut and while I look fairly good for my age, with a few new lines because perimenopause is a nasty little sucker and I love laughing," she said pointedly at Bess who was smiling as she leaned back against the counter, "there is no way you can mistake me for being a Russian-speaking adult from the fifties and sixties. "
Taylor laughed and Bess shrugged one shoulder. "I'm honestly not great at history. You good if I take my fifteen? I need to call She shooed her out of the cafe and turned to a smiling Taylor. He was the kind of man who carried himself easily, which was inviting. "I meant that you do have this mysteriousness mixed with a boldness that is very interesting. Like a spy," he explained. "You certainly do not look like you could have Medicare." She considered his words with suspicion then nodded. "I'll take it. What can I get for you, detective?" "So you just hated the coffee so much you decided to work here?" "I have a control problem." "Which is?" "I take over if I think something could be done better." He laughed, the sound rolling through her. "I have some experience running a coffee shop," she explained with a shrug. "And Bess said Shellee is going to be gone for longer than expected and I have nothing to do while here so," she pressed her lips together and lifted her hands in a gesture of conclusion. "Yeah, Jenson mentioned Ursula's friend came to town." She frowned. "How do you know that I'm Ursula's friend?" "You're new to town, Jen Wilson is one of her good friends, and since you assaulted me with a blind date," he was cut off by her holding up a hand. "Assaulted? I assaulted you with my reasonable assumption because you were a male sitting alone with a red flower?" "It was a pleasant assault," he amended. "That is not a thing. You're a terrible detective." "Fine," he sighed. "You made a well-informed guess, which turned out to be incorrect, but I happened to benefit because while I do not date, it was the best date I've had in a long time." She raised an eyebrow as she sipped her green tea. "It was ten minutes long." "Ten minutes is all I need," he said with a smirk. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. "When you said you don't date, did you mean women don't date you? Because I'm beginning to see why." "Ah, that sly wit is coming out again," his dimple was prominent and his blue eyes were shining. "But you should be nice to me because I decided to help you." "With what?" "Dating." She laughed. "You're going to help me with dating and your idea of a perfect date is speed dating?" He ignored her. "I have a buddy on the force, nice and attractive enough to have women give him their number on a regular basis. He wants someone smart and interesting." He shrugged a large shoulder. This was the first time she had seen him standing and he was six feet tall, wearing cargo joggers and a white shirt with a thin black bomber jacket. "Guys talk about that? What they're looking for in a woman?" "I mean, not off-handedly. But when you're stuck in a patrol car for twelve hours together the topics can get wild. I even learned the guy prefers blueberry pop-tarts." She nodded and made a face. "That is wild. No one likes blueberry pop-tarts. Are you sure he's not a psychopath? Does the SPD even do a psychological exam?" "Well, not officially, but we make them take a personality test on a computer that uses dial-up from the nineties so," he lifted both large hands in the air, "same thing." She laughed, a small thrill going through her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had conversation this easy and fun with a man. "Why are you trying to set me up? Because the other day honestly was the splash of cold water I needed. I don't think I want to date." "Because of our kerfuffle?" "Kerfuffle? And you're accusing me of being from the fifties?" A look crossed his handsome face. "Come on. Bad luck picking the one man who can't date." "You went from don't date to can't date. Those are vastly different. Are there different laws here about dating?" She leaned forward again and lowered her voice. "Are you a three-hundred-year-old vampire who doesn't want to get an innocent thirty-something mixed up with your ways?" He leaned forward playing along. "Yes," he whispered. "But I'm actually six hundred and dating anyone under one hundred is against our vampire laws. Which you can imagine would be difficult." She nodded. "Fair." He slapped the counter with a large hand. "The point is, I found you charming and when I realized who you were, figured I should stay on the good side of the Lost Souls Coven." Her eyebrows danced and she smiled. "Ohmygod, that's what we're called? How delightful," she said with a brightness in her eyes. "But still not sure I want to date. I appreciate the offer, though." "Alright," he said easily. "I make a great wingman if you change your mind. Just because I can't date, doesn't mean I don't like seeing love birds find their mates."