Coffeehouse Angel by Suzanne Selfors Read Free Book Online

"Is that a threat?"
    "My heart is set on expanding my business. I don't like to be disappointed."
    I stood close to my grandmother. Her shoulders trembled slightly. "You will leave,"
    she told him.
    He did, but he made us wait while he cleaned a spot off his shoe. Once he had gone, my grandmother slammed the door, turned the closed sign outward, then crumpled into a chair. Irmgaard and I hurried to her side.
    "Are you okay?" I asked.
    "I should call Officer Larsen and report that man." She slapped her palm on the table.
    Then she sighed. "But he's right. How am I going to fix everything that's falling apart?
    The Boys buy a few cups of coffee and sandwiches. That's not enough to keep us going during the winter months."
    "We'll make some money during the Solstice Festival," I said. "We always have a long line for our hot chocolate."
    "Not last year."
    "Oh, right." Last year the line to get into Java Heaven had been so long that it had blocked people from entering our shop to buy my grandmother's famous Norwegian cocoa.
    "We can't rely on the festival," she mumbled.
    "We'd get more people in here if we got an espresso machine," I suggested for the millionth time. Irmgaard nodded.
    "I'm not getting an espresso machine. This is a Scandinavian coffeehouse, not a French bistro. Espresso machines don't make egg coffee."
    I thought about saying That's the point, but didn't. Norwegian egg coffee is a disgusting combination of boiled coffee grounds, sugar, and a beaten egg. Yep. A beaten egg. It's an Old World recipe and that's who asked for it--old people. Didn't much matter, anyway. Good espresso machines cost thousands of dollars.
    My grandmother patted my hand. "Don't you worry, Katrina, or you'll get worry lines all over your face, just like me. You should be thinking about your grades and about college. That's your future. That's what a sixteen-year-old girl should be thinking about. And finding a nice boy to take you to the festival."
    "I'm staying here and working the festival, with you. We'll bring in good money, I know we will. I'll make sure that Mr. Darling's line doesn't get in the way this time."
    With a grunt, my grandmother pushed herself from the chair. "You spend too much time in here." She patted my cheek. "It's all my fault. Your parents, rest their souls, wouldn't want you working so much. Maybe I should close for good."
    I didn't know what to say. The coffeehouse was my home and, in many ways, it was my sanctuary. I may not have loved all its odd flavors, but its dusty charm was a part of me. Outside, I was an average student, with average grades and average looks. My name did not grace any trophies in the gym case or any murals on the school walls.
    Five years from now, no one would even know that I had been at Nordby High. But once I stepped inside our coffeehouse, I knew exactly what to do and exactly who I was.
    I was an important part of Anna's. I worked the cash register, ordered supplies, made sandwiches, and chitchatted with tourists. As my grandmother slowed down, I sped up, taking on more responsibilities. Sure, it was not an ideal situation. Ideal would be going back to when we had lots of customers, more employees, and fewer demands on my time. When locals came in and I knew exactly what they were going to order.
    When business was conducted at the counter, and book groups and knitting clubs met on set days of the week.
    I didn't want to see Anna's close down. That would be like losing my family all over again.
    We finished our evening chores. I opened the door that led to our upstairs apartment.
    Ratcatcher waddled down the stairs. She wasn't allowed in the coffeehouse during the day. I crouched and scratched her head. She pawed at my jean pocket, the one holding the coffee bean. I had forgotten all about it.
    "Grandma, if you could have what you most desired, what would it be?"
    "I'm not sure."
    "Someone told me that fortune is the most common thing people ask for."
    "Well, money sure would