A muffled voice answered, “What size?”
The woman turned back to Tristan. “What size you want, child?”
“Medium’s fine.”
“Medium, Irene!” she hollered.
“Coming right up, Grandma!” came the reply from somewhere down the hall.
Tristan blinked. Grandma?
A shorter, elderly plump woman with salt-and-pepper hair came stomping up from the back. Her expression could curdle cream. “Who wants the coffee?”
“He does!” the first woman said, pointing at Tristan.
The shorter one squinted at him. “You sure you don’t want none of them fancy drinks, mister?”
He chuckled. “No, just a black coffee’s fine.”
“Well,” she said, crossing her arms. “We got light roast, medium roast, dark roast, and extra-dark roast. I wouldn’t advise that last one, gave poor Wilfred a terrible bellyache.”
“That’s because he drank three cups before breakfast,” Grandma griped. “That’s his own fault!”
“Well, if you’d make it weaker, maybe he wouldn’t have,” Irene shot back. She eyed Tristan. “What’ll it be?”
“Dark roast,” he said quickly.
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll go get it.”
Tristan watched her stomp back down the hall, frowning at the row of shiny coffee dispensers beside the counter. “Why is she going to the back to get my coffee?”
“Oh, on account of we’ve got coffee pots back there,” Grandma said cheerfully. “Fresh brew in every pot. None of that fancy push-button nonsense.” She leaned on the counter. “By the way, I’m Grandma. And you are…?”
“Tristan,” he said. “But my friends call me TJ.”
“TJ, is it? What’s it short for?”
“Tristan John.”
“And your last name?”
“Jones.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Jones, huh? You part of the Jones Ranch outside of town?”
He grinned. “How’d you guess?”
“Oh, child, any Jones around here’s usually one ofthoseJoneses.”
He studied her, amused. “Do you live around here?”
“Well,” she said, tilting her head. “Recently, I guess you’d call us. We’re actually covering for Tilly and Jack while they’re off in Hawaii.”
“Ah. They went to Hawaii, did they?”
“The big island,” she said. “At least, I think that’s what they called it.”
Before he could reply, Irene reappeared, clutching a medium cup like it had personally offended her. She set it down on the counter with a thud. “One medium dark roast!”
