“I’ll be fine, but thanks.” He looked around the room. She’d done an amazing job of transforming theold church into a coffee shop. Most of the stained-glass windows remained, though the old, cracked ones flanking the front entry had been replaced with stained glass replicas of The Coffee Loft chain’s logos. The blend of secular and religious images was unusual, but to his surprise they made an interesting combination that worked.
The glass display cases and the windows were clear and unmarked by fingerprints. The tables were neatly aligned. There was a clear, unobstructed path to the door and from where he stood, he could see clear through the kitchen to the rear exit. There was a small stage off to the right. He’d heard she hosted musical and author events. Last week his grandmother had chided him for not coming to her poetry reading here.
Nature photographs taken around Cherry Lake, and the lake itself, hung in black frames against the creamy white walls. The pink and blue accents managed to look upscale rather than girly. It was a warm welcoming space.
She bustled around in her jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt. She looked cozy and welcoming. The themed apron added to that feeling. He stuffed his hands in hispockets and studied the display case. Three sliced cakes, cupcakes, muffins, and four types of cookies. This was as much a bakery as a coffee shop, and it smelled amazing. Chocolate, coffee, cinnamon, vanilla, and lemon combined into a mouthwatering temptation. His stomach growled.
“I heard that!” Drinda smiled.
The bright light in her eyes nearly floored him.Holy smoking ashes. “Maybe I should eat something.”
“What can I get you? There’s the menu.” She waved to the wall above and behind her. She switched out the coffee filter and in seconds the rich scent of fresh coffee washed over him. She moved efficiently like she’d done this a million times, and she probably had. The grinder started, then the steamer. She filled and labeled mugs and placed them side by side on the counter. She paused to look at him. “Have you decided?”
“A breakfast sandwich with bacon, please.” He honestly expectedit to be premade.
“That’ll take a second. Hang tight. How do you want the egg in that? Scrambled, or fried, and hard or soft?”
“Fried hard please.”
She nodded and went into the kitchen. Dishes rattled and the scent of bacon filled the air. Two minutes later, she was back with the sandwich on a plate.
“I should have asked, but I went with toast rather than a bagel or English muffin.” She slid the plate toward him. “Have a seat and I’ll finish these drinks.”
“Toast is perfect.” He’d been thinking toast and it felt nice that she’d got it right without asking. He settled into a comfortable booth where he could watch her work.
The shop had a rough n-shape. You walked into the door with one leg of the n on either side. Over by the bandstand, there was a wall rack comprised of small cubicles. Each cubicle held a mug or cup and saucer. Each was different, except for a t-shape in the middle. One horizontal and one vertical row held pink and blue Coffee Loft mugs. The others seemed to be a random assortment. Maybe they were for sale. They’dbe great gifts. Grammie would probably love the one that resembled a dog.
Either he had been starving, or the sandwich was the best he’d ever had. It had something different in it, a spice he couldn’t quite identify. It filled his belly with warmth and comfort.Oh, good gravy. He was not feeling warm and fuzzy inside over a sandwich. Was he? If he was, this place must have a secretly seductive atmosphere. Not unlike Drinda herself.
“Your order is ready,” Drinda called, just as he finished eating.
“What do I owe you?” He carried his plate to the dish trolley near the counter.
She named a ridiculously low price.
“That can’t be right,” he objected.
“It’s right. First responders get plain coffee free, and fancy drinks at half price. Food is ten percent off. Your sandwich is on the house. Sort of a welcome to Coffee Loft thing.” Her cheeks pinkened.
“I can’t accept that,” he said. “It could be construedas a bribe.”
Her brows pinched together, and her lips turned down. “Are you saying I’d bribe you for a passing mark on my inspection?” Her hands landed on her hips. She reminded him of his grade six teacher, all stern and serious.
“No offense intended.” He resisted the urge to grin and held up his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t take gifts from businesses. No gifts. No swag. No freebies. It’s a rule that goes with the inspector job.”
She wrinkled her nose. “And the coffee discount?”
“That I can take, as you give that to all the responders.”
She slapped some keys on the register and the new total popped up. “Pardon me for trying to be nice,” she growled and shoved the debit machine toward him. Her eyes flared with anger.
She slipped the eight drinks into trays and then set the trays into a low cardboard box. “Be careful, they’ll slide around. I’ll get the door.” Her voice had a hard edge.
Ouch! He’d really annoyed her. He was tempted to apologize but didn’t bother. It wasn’t his fault. Rules were rules and he’d never risk his job for a freesandwich, even a delicious one. He would, however, be back for another one.
“Thanks for the coffees. I know your drinks are always tasty and a great change from the sludge at the diner.” The diner’s coffee wasn’t bad. It was more … average. But compared to Drinda’s it was dishwater. Grammie said something about custom roasted, ethically sourced beans.
“You’re welcome.”
