The commercial began to glitch, the same few seconds looping over and over. A woman smiled brightly as she held up a mound of soapsuds and winked, accompanied by a snippet of a jingle. Static crackled, and the reel started over again.
Greta smacked the side of the TV with her palm. The commercial resumed, the static cleared, and a film started up next.Deep Sea Furywas a shameless rehash ofJaws,with Tobias Blake saving swimmers from a man-eating shark. Although widely panned by critics, it had been a massive hit with audiences, the perfect date-night movie. Greta would love to star in something so popular.
Gradually, she realised she was alone in the shop and unease prickled in her chest. She looked around for Iris, but there was no sign of her.
Iris’s mortar and pestle sat on one of the tables with a note wedged underneath them.
Back in Thirty Minutes. Iris.
How long had it been waiting for her to find it? The roots of Greta’s hair stiffened. The weight of responsibility, of being the temporary custodian of the place, even for half an hour, felt heavy on her shoulders. She couldn’t leave the shop unattended, and would have to stay until Iris returned.
Greta moved toward the glass jars lining the shelves, examining them more closely. They looked like they belonged in an apothecary or an old-fashioned sweet shop rather than a café. She ran her fingers across the handwritten labels, their edges yellowed by time—Dark Matters, Belonging Beans, and Dreamscape.
Greta paused when she saw one named Starbright. If she remembered correctly, Iris had used some of this to create her individual blend. Inside the jar, dark, dry leaves looked like burnt curls of paper. They were mixed with coarsely ground coffee beans and crushed spices.
Greta rubbed the back of her neck, feeling an intense urge to open the jar. The pull of Mapleville rushed over her, with the force of how the moon draws the tide. Waiting seven days until she could visit Iris’s coffee shop again felt like an eternity.
The roar of applause she’d imagined in the ballroom lured her like a siren.
Iris’s last coffee had allowed her to rekindle her connection with Jim and Lottie. Could the contents of this jar help her career to sparkle again?
One cup ofcoffeea week only.
The rule appeared in Greta’s mind, clear and unbreakable.
She pushed it aside and squinted at the jars, trying to remember which other ingredients Iris had used for her personal blend. There were so many jars that piecing together the recipe felt impossible. Greta wondered if Iris kept records somewhere, or if she stored the recipes in her head.
The thought made her curiosity burn even stronger.
She stepped over to the counter. Behind it, she could see Iris’s storeroom was open, the door ajar. Greta swiftly looked over both shoulders, then darted toward it.
Inside the small room, she could see rows and rows of more small jars, each with a white rabbit on the label. The shelves featured letters of the alphabet, and she held her breath and walked in. She turned around a few jars in the B section before she spotted the name Edgar Barker.
Greta closed her eyes with relief. So, hehadbeen here, too? She wasn’t alone.
A sudden rattle of the shop’s front door made her jump.
She spun around, her heart pounding like a bass drum in her ears.Iris?
As Greta quickly sidestepped back into the coffee shop, her eyes swivelled toward the window.
Outside, a man cupped his hands to his eyes, trying to peer into the shop. Rain glistened on his hood, and his breath fogged the glass.
‘Iris,’ he shouted. ‘Let me in.’
Greta remained statue-still, her lungs feeling like they might burst. She hoped he wouldn’t notice anyone was inside.
Edging farther back into the shadows, she watched as the man paced up and down the pavement.
Then he knocked again, harder this time. Aggressive. The noise boomed around the shop. ‘Iris. Ineedcoffee.’
Greta screwed her eyes shut and willed him to go away.
After a couple more minutes, the stranger gave up and moved on.
Greta let out a shaky breath, her pulse taking a while to return to its usual pace.
Her gaze swept across the coffee shop, settling on her coffee cup still sitting on the table in the booth. A thought flooded her head before she could stop it.
