“Choochoo?”
“Way to miss the point, Uncle Grey. I’m out.” They stalk back to the door, keys jangling in their pocket. A blast of cold air makes every part of me shrivel as Zen yanks it wide open.
And then makes a stifled urp!
“Oh, hello dear. So sorry to startle you,” a woman says in a very proper British accent. “I’m Bitsy. Live just down the way there. Are you the new owner of Bean & Nugget?”
I run a hand through my damp hair and step behind Zen. “Hello. I’m Grey. I bought the café.”
A slender Black woman with the barest hint of gray in her short hair is standing on my porch. Her dark gaze lifts to meet mine, and a broad smile crosses her features. “Ah, so you are the mysterious Mr. Cartwright I’ve been hearing so much about. Lovely to meet you, Grey. As I told your friend, I’m Bitsy.”
Manners take over, and I hold out a hand. “Hello, Bitsy. This is Zen.”
Bitsy’s beam glows brighter while she shakes hands with both of us. “Welcome to Snaggletooth Creek. My children love the café. Love it. They spend more time there than they do with me. Coffee lovers, the lot of them. Not a bit of respect for tea. Not like you, I hear. I blame my husband.” She thrusts a colorful cloth bag at me. “I heard about what happened at House of Curry. I thought you might appreciate a home-cooked meal after your hasty exit, and I just happened to have extras. It’s not quite chicken vindaloo and chana masala, but here’s a pot roast, macaroni and cheese, roasted vegetables, and a sticky toffee pudding for your sweet tooth.”
I stare at her, momentarily unsure how to respond.
She has this as extras?
“Bitsy. This is too much,” Zen says.
“Psh. It’s nothing for the people who kept our favorite café from ruination. Grey, do stop by soon for a proper cup of tea. I’m on the next block, the red door with the sassy welcome mat. You’ll know it when you see it. But now, go. Eat. While it’s hot.” She winks. “And before someone throws it at you. Very nice to meet you both.”
“Thank you, Bitsy,” Zen calls, but the older woman is already retreating down the short walkway in her long coat and boots.
Zen shuts the door, and the scent of roasted meat and cheese immediately hits the air.
My mouth waters.
Zen wipes their own mouth and takes the food to the kitchen, which has black appliances and white cabinets behind a half wall topped with a plain Formica countertop, with a powder room and a laundry-slash-mudroom beyond it. The batch of kombucha that I started this afternoon is in a glass jar covered with cheesecloth on the counter. Need to start another batch with the rest of my SCOBY at Bean & Nugget tomorrow.
“That was unexpected,” Zen says. “You think this tastes as good as it smells? Go. Sit. I’ll find plates. I’m still mad at you, but I have forty-five minutes before I have to leave. You should buy cafés in small towns more often. Oh, look at this. Heh. Bitsy’s husband owns the tavern by City Hall. Her note says to tell the staff who you are, and they’ll take care of us anytime we come in. Including getting you proper tea.”
“Is this a trap to convince me to not do anything to the café?”
They dig into the bag and come up with to-go boxes. “Don’t care. I’m all about the ruination of Chickpea Face, but I don’t dislike this place.”
“What if we were vegetarian?”
Zen digs into the drawers for silverware. “Uncle Grey. Everyone heard you tell Sabrina to put extra bacon on your sandwich after you got back today. Sit. Eat. Pretend to be happy. And warm. Even if I’m still frustrated with you thinking you can actually live with yourself under that Super Revenge Man cape.”
“Super Vengeance Man. Get it right.”
“Bad idea, worse idea. Same thing. You’re not built for it.”
I open my mouth, but instead of words coming out, warm roasted meat goes in, courtesy of my nibling.
My taste buds explode in joy.
Is this what those traditional Sunday dinners that normal families have taste like?
I’ve had food all over the world. I like food all over the world.
But there’s something extra about this dinner.
We skip the plates and dive straight into the feast on the raised counter between the kitchen and the living room.
The macaroni and cheese makes me forget about the puzzles of Sabrina.
The vegetables make me forget it’s cold outside.
The sticky toffee pudding makes me forget I’m here on a vengeance mission.