Copyright © 2007
All rights reserved, The Wild Rose Press
Pappy rubbed the brooch that nestled in a box on the piano, the way he did every day before he meandered behind the counter to receive the cup of coffee she'd prepared for him. Three sugars, a hefty swig of cream. At eighty one, cholesterol was a memory for Pappy rather than a dietary restriction. “Gorgeous day,” he said around slurps.
“I haven't seen a day that wasn't gorgeous in Hawaii.”
His wide smile showed off a gap from his missing front tooth. “Yes, siree. Can't argue with that. I think maybe I'll take the old motorbike for a spin, to get my juices flowing.”
She stood, almost conking her head on the counter. She wasn't sure which was more frightening, a blind man driving a motorbike or a blind man who thought he could see doing the driving. Pappy's mental disorder was still a puzzle to her, in spite of the hours of research she'd done on Anton's Syndrome since she came to Hawaii four years ago. Though Pappy had been completely blind since his late twenties, courtesy of a car accident, the man believed without a morsel of doubt that he could see.
A blind man who thought he could see.
He probably belonged in a nice old folk's facility with manicured lawns and bingo days, but for some reason, Lorna knew she would die before she let that happen.
He must love her too to entrust her with his beloved coffee shop, Pink's.
That explained the panic that hovered just below her stomach. Pink's was on the verge of disaster, and it fell squarely on her shoulders to save it. One thing at a time, she reminded herself. “I'd love to go for a ride with you, Pappy. Maybe later this afternoon? I'm hoping that tour group really does stop by on their way to Holualoa. We've got to get them before they spend all their money on souvenirs, right?”
His laugh was raspy. “You are a treasure, Lorna. Right as rain, right as rain. I'll just go help Maria with that roasting. I think I hear her in the back room. Or maybe that's my stomach rumbling?”
“Chocolate with sprinkles. Just don't tell your doctor.” Lorna chuckled, handing him a white paper bag. “You're supposed to have oatmeal.”
“What does that quack know? He keeps telling me I'm blind, for the love of cheese.” The grumbling followed Pappy as he felt his way out the door.
A rich smell of roasting beans hit her as the door to the back room swung closed again.
Pappy's voice carried over the sound of the roasting drum. “First crack, Maria. First crack!”
Pappy knew a moment before anyone else when the beans released their moisture and let loose a sharp cracking sound. Lorna had learned enough to know if the proper heat wasn't maintained at this point the roasting would stall and taste “baked.” Then Maria would clamp her lips together in irritation while Pappy let loose with his arsenal of instruction.
Lorna returned her attention to the grinder. The bell chimed and she poked her head around the corner of the counter.
The tall, lanky man strolled over. His close cropped black hair sparkled with moisture from an early morning swim. “Hi, Lorna. Hot, eh?”
She ran a hand through her own hair to straighten the unruly bits. “Morning, Kai. What's up?”
“I dropped the beans around back. Thought you might need some help.” He leaned over the counter, his almond shaped eyes glinting back in the overhead light. “What are you doing down there?”
“Trying to get this grinder going. It's circa 1950 and only works when it feels like it.”
“Need help?”
“No thanks. I'll get it.” She continued to twiddle with the machine.
He dangled the yellow binoculars over the counter. “These yours?”
She shot to her feet. “My binoculars. Oh, I must have left them…”
“It's okay. I found them before he did. No harm done.”
She sighed. “I owe you one, Kai.”
He smiled. “That's right. So how about coming to lunch with me?”
A heat flooded her cheeks. “I can't. I promised Pappy I'd take him on a ride and if I don't come through he'll try it alone.”
He folded his arms, lean muscles accentuated by his tan skin. “Are you sure you aren't avoiding me, Miss Lorna Amerino?”