Page 66 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
Margo appeared instantly, took one look at the silent machine, and muttered something under her breath that Stella was pretty sure wasn't suitable for customer hearing.
"How bad?" Margo asked quietly.
"Dead. Completely dead. And we've got a line of people who haven't had their caffeine yet."
At a corner table, Anna looked up from her sketchbook where she'd been working on what appeared to be studies of morning shadows. "What's wrong?"
"Coffee machine died," Stella said tersely, her mind already racing through options. "We need backup. Fast."
For a moment, there was silence. Then Bea, who had been photographing the way light fell through the window, stood up decisively.
"Target," she said. "They'll have basic coffee makers. I can be there and back in twenty minutes."
Anna nodded, closing her sketchbook. "I'll go with her. We can get multiple machines, filters, coffee—whatever you need."
Stella paused, surprised. She'd expected artistic interpretations of the crisis, not immediate practical solutions.
"That would actually be really helpful," she admitted. "But we need regular drip coffee makers. Nothing fancy, nothing that requires special techniques. Just basic Mr. Coffee type machines."
"Got it," Bea said, already grabbing her car keys. "Practical, not artistic. Large capacity if possible."
"And get good coffee," Anna added. "Even if it's temporary, it should still taste decent."
They headed for the door, then Anna paused. "Stella? Should we... I mean, do you need us to help set them up when we get back?"
Stella looked at her aunt, who was carefully asking permission instead of assuming she could take over the kitchen operation.
"Yes," Stella said. "But I'll coordinate setup. We need to do this fast and organized."
"You're in charge," Anna agreed. "We'll follow your lead."
After they left, Stella turned to face the line of increasingly cranky customers. Mrs. Fell looked sympathetic, but the businessman behind her was checking his watch with obvious impatience.
"Folks," Stella announced loudly, "we're having a coffee emergency. Our main machine just died, but we're getting backup equipment. If you can wait about thirty minutes, we'll have coffee brewing. If you can't wait, I completely understand."
"What about the coffee that's already brewed?" asked Harold, Bernie's poker buddy.
Stella looked at the carafe behind the counter. "We've got maybe two cups left of the morning brew. That's it."
"I'll take it," said Mrs. Fell immediately. "Harold can have the other cup."
"What about the rest of us?" the businessman asked.
"Tea?" Stella suggested hopefully. "Free tea while we wait for coffee backup?"
The businessman looked like she'd suggested drinking motor oil, but the woman behind him nodded. "I'll take tea. This is actually kind of exciting. Like a natural disaster, but with breakfast."
Margo appeared beside Stella with a tray of tea bags and hot water. "We'll make this work," she said quietly. "We always do."
Twenty-two minutes later, Anna and Bea returned with what appeared to be half of Target's small appliance section. Two large drip coffee makers, a single-serve machine for backup, enough filters to supply a small city, and four different types of ground coffee.
"Where do you want us to set up?" Bea asked, stopping at the counter but waiting for direction.
Stella surveyed the counter space behind the register. The dead espresso machine was taking up prime real estate, but there was room on either side.
"Anna, can you clear that space to the left of the register? Stack the dead machine's accessories somewhere safe. Bea, you're on coffee prep—measuring, filter setup, all that. I'll handle water and coordination."
"What about power?" Anna asked. "Do we have enough outlets?"
