Apparently, there was some crisis at the coffee shop, and hell if I'd let Tessa face it alone.
26
The Decaf Whisperer
Tessa
When I pushed through the swinging door, I nearly tripped over a floral tote bag parked directly in my path. On top of the giant tote rested a big colorful scarf, a folded crossword puzzle, and a half-eaten scone, perched precariously on a paper napkin.
The line at the counter was a dozen deep and obviously restless.
Behind the counter, I spotted a woman in her seventies with stylish gray hair, tortoiseshell glasses on a silver chain, and a lavender sweater tied around her shoulders like she was headed to Sunday brunch.
As I watched, she filled a disposable cup from the orange-spouted dispenser – the one that meant it was caffeine-free.
The guy at the front of the line – an older man in a plaid jacket – grumbled, "I didn't orderdecaf."
"Yeah, but you should've," the woman said. "Clara says you're all jittery." She snapped the lid onto the cup and handed it over like she'd been doing it for years. "So enjoy the low-octane and tell your wife I said hi."
He blinked. "Uh…thanks?"
She patted his hand. "You're welcome, Darren."
Darren? Clara? How on Earth did she know their names?
The guy tossed a few bills onto the counter and told her to keep the change. That's when I noticed the small pile of cash set off to the side.Tips? Payments for coffees? A mix of the two?
I was still trying to make sense of it when the next customer – a lean woman with a high ponytail – stepped up to the counter."I'll just have a triple-shot oat milk caramel latte with two pumps vanilla, one pump hazelnut, and extra foam."
The silver-haired woman snorted. "Sorry, honey. We've got regular or decaf. Take your pick."
The customer stared like she'd just been offered a cup of dirty dishwater. "But this is a coffee shop."
"I know," the woman behind the counter said. "So choose. Regular or decaf."
Belatedly, I rushed forward, calling out,"Ora caramel latte!" I gave the customer a shaky smile. "I mean, I'd be happy to make that drink."
Happy was a massive overstatement.Even on the best of days, I could barely manage a mocha. Still, I hustled to the espresso machine and started fumbling through the motions.
The older woman gave me a sly look. "I was wondering when you'd show up." But then, she turned to ask the customer, "So, you want any scones or muffins with that?"
The customer gave it some thought. "I dunno…are they gluten-free?"
My impromptu coworker barked out a laugh. "Honey, if you want gluten-free, you're in the wrong place."
Again, I spoke up. "Actually, wedohave some almond-flour brownies that are gluten-free."
The customer turned to me with a frown. "Yeah, but are they certified paleo?"
I hesitated. "Um…no?" They weren't labeled, and it's not like we baked them on-site.
My coworker leaned toward the customer and smiled. "Listen, you're on vacation, right?"
The customer gave her a wary look. "Uh…yeah."
"And I bet you work really hard all year."
"Yeah…Iguessso."
