Laughing, she walked back to the front. He sure liked to make jokes. Because that was the silliest one she ever heard. She made horrible coffee. Absolutely disgusting. He knew it. She knew it. Everybody knew it. Yet, they all came flocking in for her coffee. One of these days, she might actually make a good pot.

It’s not as if she didn’t try. She searched the Internet for the perfect way to make a pot of coffee that would put a smile on everyone’s face.

Make sure to use the correct kind of water. She laughed when she saw that, wondering why the type of water would make a difference. But it did. It suggested filtered or bottled water for the best flavor, and on occasion, tap water was acceptable. And don’t pour in cold water or the coffee won’t be as strong, too hot and it’ll burn and give off a bitter taste. She almost stopped searching just based on reading all the water facts.

Next, the ideal amount of scoops for the coffee grounds. One to two tablespoons of grounds to every six ounces of water. She made a big pot of coffee, so she tended to put in quite a few scoops. Messing with the amounts never made a difference. Each pot still tasted disgusting. Even to her.

Then there was the perfect filter. Bonzo bought filters in bulk from his food supplier, so she had no control over that. She figured Bonzo wouldn’t steer her wrong in that department since he also waited for the day she would make a delicious pot of coffee.

And the last important detail she found was to thoroughly clean the coffee pot regularly. She did, like a maniac, making sure it sparkled like a twinkling diamond.

Even after all of her research, pouring over information from several different sites, her coffee-making skills still failed her horribly. Honestly, she figured the coffee pot just hated her because she watched Bonzo make it, doing exactly what she did, and it tasted delicious. 

Whatever. Her coffee-making skills still had the diner hopping because people were always curious what it would taste like any particular day.

Shuffling back and forth on the floor, she cleared every table, wiping it down and rearranging everything just right. Not one person entered to interrupt her great pace. It was best if she worked fast because her body was ready to collapse into a big heap. The faster she went, the better chance she wouldn’t faint from the aches.

The bell above the door rang with merry. Glancing up, her heart froze, then jumped into a dizzying pitter-patter rhythm that always happened when he walked in.

“Officer Crowl, good afternoon.” She could only hope he couldn’t hear her heart racing like a thousand wild horses.

“Afternoon, Theresa.” He stopped before her, less than two feet of counter space separating them. “I’ll have a cup of coffee.”

He didn’t smile or offer any other pleasantry. Straight and to the point. He always acted that way. To everyone, not just her. Which was why she never took offense at it or worried that he didn’t like her. 

Of course, she knew he didn’t like her anyway, regardless of his lack of a smile. He hadn’t been the same since his fiancé died over a year ago. A tragic car accident that shook their small town at the time. Cynthia had been the homecoming queen three years straight and the Mulberry Princess four years straight. Theresa never had the gumption or courage to enter the contest to be crowned the Mulberry Princess, the title given away every summer during the Fourth of July festival and picnic.

Cynthia had been the town sweetheart. Loved by everyone. Especially by Officer Crowl. They’d been the golden couple. He had been the star quarterback of the football team and almost went pro until he hurt his knee in a skiing accident in the off season of his junior year in college.

Theresa always had the worst crush on him, since ninth grade, and he didn’t know she existed. Even now, she didn’t think he really saw her. Just another waitress serving him a cup of coffee that would taste awful.

“Theresa? Can I get a cup of coffee?” His brows rose.

“Oh, yes, of course. My bad.” She laughed nervously and turned around to the coffee pot. You’re an idiot. Pouring the coffee quickly in a to-go cup, because he never stayed for his coffee, she realized she should’ve been more prepared for his arrival. He was like clockwork. Every day at two o’clock, right before his shift started, he came in for his coffee. She could only blame her tiredness.

Still feeling off-kilter, she turned back toward him, nearly dropping the coffee cup. His piercing brown eyes, almost black, looked at her with such intensity. Probably thinking what an imbecile she was, just standing there, staring at him moments before.

“One coffee.” Another nervous laugh slipped out.

“Thanks.” He tossed a five to the counter and took a sip. A wince crossed his face.

“That bad?”

He coughed. “Not at all. Have a good day.”

“You, too.” Yet her words were lost on him, as he was already halfway to the exit. Obviously, he couldn’t get away fast enough. He always left her a decent tip, though.

Lame. That’s what she was. Pining and wishing and hoping for a man that would never return her affection. Oh, well. She learned early on in life she didn’t always get what she wanted and it was just best to move on.

The bell above the door rang again. She knew right then she’d be gaining five pounds.

“Lynn Duncan! I swear, if you’re here dropping off more cookies, I’m gonna…gonna…become fat.”

She laughed as Lynn set a container down in front of her, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “What, you don’t like my cookies? I make them for the diner, not you specifically.”

“Yeah, but they’re soooo good and I can’t resist.” Theresa opened the container and snatched one, chomping down with delight. “Ugh! Can you seriously make them terrible, just once?”

Lynn took a seat, shaking her head as she laughed with her. “Elliot wouldn’t like that.”

“Me either.”

“I wasn’t going to bring another batch in until Friday, but then Mrs. Thompson stopped into the bakery and said you guys ran out, so I whipped out another batch today instead.”

“Only you could whip out a batch of cookies and they taste like perfection.”

“Thank you. How about some coffee before I pick up Laura from school?”

Cocking a brow, she smirked. “You sure? You know my coffee.”

“Best coffee I’ve ever had.”

“Now I know you’re jesting.” Theresa pointed a finger at her as she laughed, then turned around to get her a cup.

“Elliot loves your coffee, too.”

“Chief Duncan is just too kind to say it tastes disgusting.” Theresa set the cup of coffee before her.

“I saw Officer Crowl just left. He comes in every day for a cup.” Lynn raised the cup to take a sip.

“I guess he’s just being kind as well.”

“Or…”

Wishful thinking. Please don’t go there, Lynn.

“Does he have any clue you like him?”

Lynn must’ve interpreted her expression and decided to change tactics.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Taking another sip, Lynn looked like she was trying to choose her words carefully. 

Theresa liked her. She met Elliot Duncan, Mulberry’s Chief of Police, last Christmas, and it didn’t take long for them to get engaged. A few months later, just as the flowers started to bloom, they were married. A few months after that, Lynn opened her own bakery two stores down from the diner. She made everything from breads to doughnuts to cookies to cakes to any sweet anyone asked of her. Bonzo, the owner of the Mulberry Diner, loved her cookies and asked her to supply the diner. She had become good friends with Lynn just from her weekly visits to drop off cookies.

“He’s always so serious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.”

“He has the best smile.” When he used to display one. Groaning, Theresa slumped her head to the counter to hide her embarrassment. “I didn’t just say that.”

“But you did.”

Lifting her head, she saw Lynn’s cheeks flush a bright red.

“I’m still in that honeymoon stage. I want everyone to be happy. Especially around Christmas.”

“Have you finished shopping for Laura yet?”

And just like that, the conversation moved along. She didn’t want to think about Officer Crowl, let alone talk about him. Distancing herself from him was crucial. Even when he came in to grab his coffee, she always addressed him as Officer Crowl instead of Aiden. It was easier. Way, way easier to control her crush on him and never let him know how she felt.

He was out of her reach. She accepted that. She didn’t want to explain that to anyone else.

Copyright © 2017 Amanda Siegrist.

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