Chapter Nine
R owena didn’t knock on my door the next morning.
Instead, I was woken by a sharp, chilly gust of wind blowing directly in my face. I ignored it at first, rolling over onto my side and settling back to sleep, but the gust continued a few seconds later, stronger this time.
Followed by a squeaking sound.
“Aria?” I mumbled blearily as I opened my green eyes. It was still dark outside, and my faerie fire lanterns were turned off, but I could feel the air elemental’s cool, windy paws pressing into my wrist.
“Oh.” I tapped her back with my finger. “There you are.”
I scooped the little elemental into my hand and stumbled to my feet, with both my vision and sense of balance clouded by my drowsiness. Once again, I had an early morning wake-up call, and I still didn’t have access to coffee.
“What time is it?” I asked Aria as I rubbed my eyes with my free hand. I cringed as I realized what a silly question it was. Do elementals even have a sense of time?
I turned one of the faerie fire lanterns on, and both my hands and Aria’s airy form were bathed in dim blue light. To my surprise, Aria squeaked and held up her front paw, with four of her toes spread wide.
Four…
Four!?
Panic jolted through my body like a lightning bolt. I was supposed to be at The Lone Wolf Café by three-thirty, so I’d have time to prepare the baked goods for the day. Even if I bolted out the door now, I’d be almost an hour late to work.
My eyes flicked over to the front door. I wonder why Rowena didn’t knock?
On my first full day of work, Rowena had knocked on my door at 3 a.m. to wake me up. I assumed she was being courteous since I didn’t have an alarm clock, and I cursed myself for not buying one at the general store the day before.
So much for being a strong, independent werewolf, I scolded myself as I tucked Aria into my dress pocket and tossed my cloak over my shoulders. Can’t even get to work on time.
I managed to cut my commute in half by jogging down the path to the village square. I seriously considered slipping into my werewolf form to get there faster. After all, it was still dark, and I doubted any other witches were awake.
Then I scolded myself for my horrible idea and kept jogging.
I made it through the back door of the café ten minutes later, panting and covered in cold sweat. I peeled my damp cloak off my shoulders and hung it on the hook, bracing myself against the wall as I caught my breath.
To my surprise, the kitchen lights were already on.
And I could hear activity coming from the front of the café.
I walked through the kitchen door, making sure Aria was safely hidden away in my pocket, and saw Rowena standing by the counter. She was fiddling with some sort of metallic kettle, which at first, I assumed was for tea.
Then I saw the stray coffee beans scattered across the counter.
And the bags of coffee stacked behind the tea display.
“Um, good morning?” I greeted, confused by the scene before me. Rowena continued fiddling with the kettle for several seconds before finally looking up at me.
“Good morning,” she replied in an exasperated tone, setting the kettle down on the counter. Anxiety bubbled in my stomach. Uh oh. She’s going to scold me for being late.
“Rowena, I…” I struggled to choke my words out. “I’m so sorry I’m la–”
“How do you work this thing?”
My jaw froze mid-word as my mind struggled to process what she’d just said.
“Um, what do you mean?”
She’s not upset that I’m late?
“The kettle,” Rowena gestured toward the device on the counter. It was tall, thin, and made of metal, and several strainer-like inner pieces lined the counter next to it. Rowena had completely taken it apart.
That was when I realized it wasn’t a tea kettle.
It was a coffee percolator.
“You’re making coffee?” I asked, more astonished Rowena bought coffee than her inability to use the percolator.
Rowena scowled at the percolator, her petite nose wrinkling. “Yes. And I already had Mavro brew up a whole kettle of the stuff. I followed the directions exactly , and the water barely absorbed the coffee. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
Barely absorbed the coffee?
I plucked the splayed-out list of instructions off the counter and scanned them. We’d never had written instructions for our coffee-making devices on Hollenboro, but it seemed straightforward. It was no different than how I’d made my coffee back home.
I gestured for Rowena to move aside, set the instructions back on the counter, and surveyed the mess before me. The inner filter for the percolator was pulled apart and dripping wet, with faintly brown-tinged water staining the countertop.
“Where are the coffee grounds?” I asked Rowena.
“Grounds?”
“Yes. The coffee. You’re supposed to put it in this little basket,” I plucked a cylindrical metal device full of holes off the counter. “Where is the coffee you just used?”
Rowena clenched her bottom lip between her teeth. I could tell that in her head, she was piecing together how she may have messed up making the coffee.
“Trash can,” she pointed to the corner of the café, next to the kitchen door.
I lifted the lid off the plastic trash can, and sure enough, a pile of wet, clumpy coffee beans sat on the very top of the garbage mound.
Very intact coffee beans.
Despite my best efforts, a burst of giggles escaped me as I placed the lid back on the trash can. I saw Rowena’s brows furrow even deeper as I descended into full-on cackling.
“What’s so funny?” she grumbled.
I looked up, my face burning red from laughing, and a tingling sensation crept down my throat and into my belly. Rowena looked adorable when she was mad.
“The coffee beans,” I pointed to the trash can, still catching my breath from laughing so hard. “You have to grind them first, silly.”
Rowena’s frustration deflated like a popped balloon, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Oh” was all she could utter.
I spent a few minutes reassuring Rowena it was an easy mistake to make, and she was not, in her words, “a stupendously idiotic witch”. She returned to her tea-making, and I fumbled through the cabinets, trying to find a solution to the un-ground coffee beans.
Rowena didn’t have a coffee grinder, so I resorted to a mortar and pestle. I scooted next to Rowena, and the two of us worked side by side: her boiling her morning cup of Earl Grey, and me pushing the weight of my upper body into the pestle.
After five minutes, I was breaking a sweat. This is way harder than a coffee grinder.
“Where did you get this stuff anyway?” I asked Rowena, pointing to the coffee bags and the percolator.
“The general store,” she replied casually, still focused on her boiling teapot.
Realization snapped in my mind. She was the one who bought the last of the coffee supplies yesterday.
“But why?” I asked, grunting as I shoved the pestle against the coffee beans. “Change your mind about coffee?”
“No,” Rowena replied flatly. “We’re not selling this to the public. This is just for you.”
I froze, the pestle in my hand hovering over the barely-crushed coffee grounds.
“M-me?”
“Yes. You don’t like tea. You prefer coffee. So, I got you coffee.”
My cheeks prickled with warmth. I couldn’t believe Rowena had done something so generous.
“You got coffee just for me?”
Rowena shrugged. The entire time we’d been conversing, her eyes never met mine.
She was intensely focused on her teapot, which was now off the boiling hot plate and hovering over one of the ceramic teacups that had little forest creatures painted on its side.
Almost as if she couldn’t bear to make eye contact.
“Yes.”
“What happened to ‘unpleasant bean water’? You swore you’d never allow coffee in this place.”
Rowena shrugged again. “I changed my mind. I figured you’d be here for a while. Best for you to be comfortable.”
My face burned redder, this time with guilt instead of happiness. First, Adrian offered to help me renovate the cabin. Now, Rowena had bought me both a percolator and what looked like several months’ worth of coffee beans.
I bit my lip. Why are they all making it so hard for me to leave?
I swallowed, forcing my anxiety back down my throat, and instead focused on grinding the coffee beans. It took ten minutes, and I could still see chunks of beans mixed in with the grounds. But my arms were too tired to continue, so I decided it was good enough.
I picked up the interior parts of the percolator, rinsed them off, and put them back together inside the main kettle. I filled the metal strainer with my poorly-ground beans, poured two cups of water into the bottom, and set the percolator on top of the hot plate.
“Mavro?” I called out. The little fire elemental materialized in a puff of smoke, and I pulled a piece of charcoal out of the small bin Rowena kept under the counter.
“You know what to do, buddy.” I laughed. Mavro scurried underneath the hot plate with his prized charcoal clenched in his paws, settling into the burner like a child getting ready for bed. He took two loud, crunchy bites of the charcoal, squeaked once, and then exploded into a ball of flames.
Once the coffee finished, I poured myself a piping hot cup, savoring the familiar rich, nutty scent as it drifted around my nostrils.
Rowena had Fritzi fetch creamer, and there was an earthenware jar of sugar next to the honey display.
I cupped my hands around the mug, enjoying the way it warmed my palms, and took a seat by the fireplace next to Rowena.
I knew it was almost 5 a.m., and I really needed to get started on the day’s pastries. But I’d function better once I had caffeine in my system, and this was the first time I’d had access to a cup of coffee in a while. I lifted the mug to my lips and slurped some of the steaming-hot liquid.
I wanted to savor this.