Page 18 of Promise Me This Christmas
“One day I may.I could tell Mable regretted not forgiving my father for whatever it was he did that upset her.She used to tell me that pride was the worst of the deadly sins.”
Amy was so fascinated by Kris’s story, she’d almost forgotten what she’d come in here to do.“One of our guests—I’ll let you guess which one—complained about our espresso this morning.I’m going to make myself an Americano for quality control.Do either of you want a latte or something?”
“I’ve got my coffee right here.”Jo pointed to the mug next to her tray of scones.
“And I’m going to have a glass of milk once these cookies are done,” said Kris.
Amy brewed a double shot of espresso, then added twice the volume of boiling water.She inhaled the aroma and then frowned.It smelled flat and unexciting.She took a tentative sip.Waited, then took another.
“Damn it, Gibson was right.This espresso tastes awful.Either we bought a defective batch of beans or Chet accidentally put our regular coffee beans into the espresso maker.”
She opened the canister that fed the espresso beans to the grinder and took out a handful.She could tell right away that they weren’t the right beans.Their espresso beans were darker and had a bit of a shine.These were a dull chocolate brown.Delicious when brewed in their regular coffee maker, but not robust enough for espresso.
“Well?”Jo asked.“Have you found the problem?”
“The wrong beans were in the machine.”
“Chet has a lot on his mind,” Jo said.“It’s an easy mistake to make.And easy to fix.”
“That’s true,” Amy agreed as she went to the pantry and pulled out the bag of espresso beans.But it was annoying to discover that Gibson had been right.
*
At eleven-thirty Amystacked some of Kris’s fragrant, sugar-studded cookies on a plate, and headed to the sitting room for the interview with Larkin.She’d already tested one of the cookies and it was chewy, sweet-and-spicy perfection.Thanks to Kris, no one would complain about their cookies today.Chet followed with a thermos of brewed coffee and three clean mugs.He’d come home from work in time to feed Robin—droopy and cranky after a morning of playing in the snow with his uncle—some pasta and chicken before putting him down for his nap.
When she’d asked him about the coffee beans in the espresso machine, he’d been confounded.“I’m sure I filled the machine with the right beans.I did it yesterday, right after breakfast.”
Amy had shrugged and dropped the subject.Since Robin had been born, she’d noticed times when she did her chores on autopilot, sometimes with funny results.Just last week she’d found the new box of laundry detergent in the cupboard where they kept the silver and china.She knew how that had happened.She’d been thinking about the upcoming tea fundraiser while she’d been putting away the groceries and voila.Laundry soap in the china cupboard.
Larkin was in the sitting room with her phone and a notebook.“Thanks for agreeing to do this interview.I know it’s a busy time.”
“We’re happy to help,” Amy said, setting the cookies on the big square coffee table, then sitting on the sofa near the Christmas tree.After what she’d witnessed that morning, she had questions of her own.Most importantly, what was the story with Larkin and her brother?
Chet poured coffee for everyone, then sat next to Amy, stretching the arm closest to her out along the back of the sofa.
Shelley appeared suddenly, carrying a watering can.She paused, taking in the scene.“I was going to top up the water in the Christmas tree.But if I’m interrupting, I can come back later.”
“That’s okay,” Amy said.“Larkin’s just interviewing us for a story on Bramble House that she’s writing for theCourier.”
“Oh, cool,” Shelley said.She had to get on her knees in order fill the Christmas tree holder.When she was done, she turned to Larkin.“Are you writing about all the bed and breakfasts in Marietta?”
“Just Bramble House.I understand it’s become something of an institution in this town.Would you agree, Amy?”
“The house is certainly steeped in history,” Amy said.“It was built by Henry and May Bell Bramble, one of the copper baron families who founded Marietta.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Shelley said quietly.“Would you like me to close the door?”
“Yes, please,” Amy said.
Larkin, who was sitting opposite them, looked out the large front window.“The Brambles certainly picked a prime location, right by Marietta River, with Copper Mountain in the distance.”
“The view was what initially drew me to Bramble House,” Amy said.“When the weather’s nice, Chet and I like to end our day on the porch, watching the sunset.”
“I’ve heard you left a job on Wall Street to buy this bed and breakfast,” Larkin said.“I’ve also heard that the first year was a little bumpy?”
Amy glanced at Chet and smiled at the amusement in his eyes.“I had a lot to learn.Like how to bake cookies in a high-altitude part of the world.Chet helped me with that, among other things.”
“Is that right?Chet, you look like you’d be more at home in a saddle than a kitchen.”
