Walking into the festival hall the next morning, Autumn’s breathed in the intense aromas of fine beans and brews. The place was bustling with activity, even though it was only ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. Kiosks lined the walls, selling boutique coffee beans, fine teas, chocolate, accessories and clothing. This was a coffee lover’s paradise – and luckily, she was a coffee lover.
It was a match made in heaven!
As she wandered from stall to stall, Autumn welcomed the distraction from the dilemma of Ben’s blond companion.
In the end, she had dropped off the ticket at the vet practice. He'd called her later in the afternoon, and they'd spoken briefly. He'd thanked her for the ticket and said that he would try to get there in the afternoon. Saturday mornings, she knew, were always a busy time at his practice.
He hadn’t mentioned the blonde, and their phone conversation had been cut short by an emergency call coming in for him.
Hopefully, she’d get to see him this afternoon, and find out if everything was alright between them. But in the meantime, the coffee was enticing her senses.
“Come on here, and try Ruby’s Best Blends,” a red-haired woman invited her, her voice firm. “We’ve got the very best coffee at the show. Our beans are selected for their quality, and also for their planet-friendliness. After all, nobody wants to buy coffee that has been unsustainably sourced, do they?”
Was it Autumn’s imagination, or did she glare at her neighboring stall holder, who had a stall called Brewing Magic?
“My coffee comes from organic plantations, where all workers receive annual bonuses and have their families living on site,” the Brewing Magic stallholder called, in a loud, piercing voice.
“My coffee comes from biodynamic plantations, where coffee is harvested according to nature’s rhythm, and all workers have three weeks’ annual paid leave, and a small share in the profits of the business,” Ruby called back triumphantly.
Her neighbor retreated, looking miffed, as she pressed a tester cup into Autumn’s hand.
“Taste this, our Breakfast Blend,” she said.
Autumn wondered if it worked the same way wine tasting did? Deciding to use the same principles, she swirled the coffee in the cardboard mug, and then sniffed it, to get the aroma. Only after doing that did she take a sip of it, allowing the rich, complex, and slightly fruity taste to permeate her mouth before swallowing.
“Delicious,” she judged.
“A breakfast blend?” The voice was familiar. Turning, Autumn saw it belonged to Thom Voigt, who was the owner of Voigt Events and Entertainment. He was very supportive of the town’s activities. Autumn personally thought that these coffee sellers should be directing their sales pitches at him, who held large events, rather than her, who loved coffee, but only had seven rooms in the guesthouse.
"Hello, Autumn," he said.
“Good to see you. Been busy?” she asked.
“Thankfully, it’s been chaotic this late in the season. All the big events are over now, but there are smaller ones still coming up. Of course, it means we're short-staffed. There's so much to do, and we've got two of our team off with the flu, and another two taking their vacation somewhere warm.” He smiled ruefully. “So we’re run off our feet.”
“I feel the same, without an assistant for the weekend,” Autumn said, guiltily thinking of her own guesthouse, which she’d abandoned to come here. The guests all had her phone number if something went wrong, but even so, she wished she could be there, standing at the desk, just in case. Sternly, Autumn reminded herself that her bed and breakfast was theoretically a place where people looked after themselves once breakfast was over.
“What’s happened to Jasmine?” Thom looked worried. “Is she also ill?”
“No, she’s here. She volunteered to run a food kiosk, and I know it’s going to be a roaring success,” Autumn said proudly. She glanced down the hall, catching a glimpse of the red and white banner that Jasmine had designed. “I’d better go and buy something from her,” she told Thom.
Turning to Ruby, she reassured her, “I'll definitely be back soon for some coffee,” before hurrying down the aisle between the stalls.
There was a queue of people outside Jasmine’s kiosk, and Autumn had to wait in line while the visitors in front of her were served. The pastries and cakes looked mouthwatering. That frosting! Each one was so beautifully decorated. What was she going to choose?
In the end, when she reached the front of the line, Autumn picked a mini gingerbread cake, decorated with frosting flowers, a creation of Jasmine’s that she hadn’t tried before.
“This looks delicious,” she said.
Jasmine, pink-cheeked and flustered, looked rushed off her feet as she put it in a bag for Autumn.
“I can’t believe it’s been so busy. Visitors keep coming back and buying more,” she said.
“I knew you were going to be the biggest hit at the festival,” Autumn agreed. The gingerbread smelled enticingly of spices and was baked perfectly. The crust on it, crispy and potentially divinely chewy, made Autumn want to devour it then and there, especially since she knew that under the crust would be the most luscious, tasty crumb.
Did she dare to eat it? Or would someone immediately come up and greet her, forcing her to spray crumbs as she tried to reply and swallow at the same time?
There was every chance this would end badly, but she couldn’t resist. Turning away from the kiosk, she bit into that tempting crust, the aroma of sugar and spice teasing her nostrils as she savored its perfect chewiness.
Jasmine was unbeatable. This was the very best gingerbread she’d ever tasted.
Then, of course, there was a tap on her shoulder.
Turning around, she saw it was Willow.
Her sister, with her dark hair held back by jeweled clips, had a mischievous expression on her face.
“Mm-hmm-hmm-mm,” Autumn said, gesticulating with the hand that wasn’t holding the gingerbread, her lips firmly closed.
“Oh, sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?” Willow asked.
“Mmm,” Autumn nodded, trying to express, with her eyes, that she’d just been transported to paradise via a piece of gingerbread.
“I wanted to ask you a favor,” Willow continued.
“MMM, mmhmm?” Autumn replied.
“Firstly, will you come with me to do the coffee challenge? There’s a great prize on offer. If you can correctly identify the eight coffees, then you go into the draw for an actual coffee machine. A real Italian one, in deep red, with chrome trimmings, and all the fixings. You have to check it out. It would look perfect in your dining room.”
“Wow,” Autumn said, finally finishing her gingerbread.
“Then, when we’ve done that, please will you come with me to The Local Brew, down at the harbor?”
“What?” Autumn stared at her sister in puzzlement. “You’re in the island’s coffee hotspot right here. And The Local Brew’s harbor branch isn’t open today, because of the festival. Trevor Brewster has a kiosk here instead. He’s doing coffee to-go this weekend.” She glanced in its direction, noticing that it wasn’t yet open.
“I know,” Willow said. “But I need to go down to see Trevor. He's the customer I was telling you about yesterday, the problem one who's been complaining about everything, and a difficult payer. I sent him a few strongly worded messages, and I'm now going down there with the last few tablecloths that he wanted additional unpaid changes to. I am going to refuse to leave until I get my money. I'd like you there for moral support in case he gets nasty.”
Looking at Willow, Autumn realized for the first time that her sister looked anxious about this meeting. In fact, with the mention of those nasty messages, Autumn thought the meeting might end up being more of a showdown.