“I am working. You should try the rocky road here, it’s amazing.”
“Oh, okay.” Maybe he was a baker? She felt faintly uncomfortable between the two men. “Um, Warren, this isRyan…Ryan, Warren. Ryan is an old friend. Warren and I got given each other’s mail, we just swapped it back, and now we’re having a coffee.” She was rambling. Why was she rambling?
“Warren’s a writer,” Fred continued. “A journalist.”Somebody stop me talking!
“I’m covering the Christmas market.” Warren managed to get a word in edgeways, to her great relief.
“Oh, great! Well, if you want some insider knowledge, I’ll be happy to help,” said Ryan. “All the stalls are run by small independent businesses and skilled craftspeople, no mass-market products here. It’s kind of our mission statement; it sets us apart from other markets.”
“Blimey, Ryan, are you on the payroll or something?” Fred asked.
He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked out through the steamy window.
“I guess I am, in a way. It’s a small town; if the market does well, so do all the local businesses. A positive review would be a real boost for a lot of people.”
“Then I’ll see what I can do,” said Warren amiably. “I like the artisanal angle. I might just take you up on your offer. It’s always easier to get to the heart of a place if you have an in.”
“Okay then,” Ryan said, holding out his hand to Warren. His easy manner had always been something she’d admired.
“Good to meet you, Ryan. Where can I find you?”
“I’m usually out around the town making deliveries, but otherwise you can find me at Coast Roast.”
“You work for Coast Roast?” Fred blurted out.
“IamCoast Roast,” he replied, grinning at her like a boy who’d just caught Father Christmas delivering his pressies. “I own it.”
“You. You are Coast Roast coffee beans.You.”
“Yes, Fred.” He laughed. “Why is this so hard for you to process?”
“But it’s my favorite coffee!”
“Well, thank you.”
“No, I mean it, I go to my local deli specifically to buy it.”
He gave her a bashful half smile. “Thank you for supporting my business?”
“You could’ve told me!” she scolded him, playfully.
“You didn’t ask.” He shrugged.
“I…god, Ryan, that’s amazing. Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.” She knew she had a goofy smile on her face. She was surprised too; in their school yearbook Ryan had been voted “most likely to become a beach bum.” Of the two of them she had been the one who started out on a trajectory toward full-blown adulting and a steady career path, while Ryan had appeared content to coast—oh, the irony!—but somewhere along the line their futures would appear to have switched. Good for him.
“There’s a terrific mark-up on coffee; I did a piece on it, back last year,” said Warren. “You picked the right gig to get into.”
Oof!It didn’t quite qualify as a backhanded compliment, more like a glancing slight, but Fred felt it knock the rise out of the atmosphere and wondered if Ryan would feel it too.
“I did,” said Ryan amiably. “But I also love what I do, money wasn’t the deciding factor.”
Yep, he felt it.
Warren was smiling benignly. “I admire anyone who starts their own business.” And then the waitress arrived with their drinks, flapping her eyelashes at him like Mr. Snuffleupagus, and ending the conversation.
“Right, well, I’ll be off then,” said Ryan. “Can you let Aggie know I’ve got her order ready for her and I’ll drop it up to the house later?”
“I can pick it up, if you like, save you the trip?” Fred offered.
