Free Various Flavors of Coffee by Anthony Capella

coat, so I was alone with the child.
    “I’m not sure that’s altogether a polite question.”
    “Ada thinks you do. I heard her ask Emily if she’d been ravished by Lord Byron yet.That’s what Ada calls you, you know.” She was silent a moment.“If you do ravish Emily, you’ll have to marry her. That’s the rule.Then I can be a bridesmaid.”
    “I think your father might have an opinion on that subject.” “Shall I ask him if I can be a bridesmaid?” Frog said hopefully. “I meant, an opinion on whom Emily marries. It’s rather up to
    him, you see.”
    “Oh, he’s very keen to marry her off,” she assured me.“I’m sure you’ll do.Are you rich?”
    “Not in the least.” “You look rich.”
    “That’s because I’m a spendthrift.” “What’s a spendthrift?”
    “Someone who doesn’t earn as much as they ought to. And who keeps buying nice things even when they oughtn’t.”
    “Like wedding rings?”
    I laughed. “Not wedding rings. Wedding rings aren’t nice things.”

    [ ten ]

I
    have something to show you,” Pinker announced one
    day, bounding into the office where Emily and I were working. “Put on your coats—it cannot wait.”
    Outside, his carriage was waiting, and we set off at a smart trot through the crowded streets. I was sitting next to Emily, facing backwards. The carriage was a narrow one, and I could feel the warmth of her thigh where it lay against mine. As we went round corners we were gently swung together: she shifted to avoid being thrown into my arms, but there was little either of us could do.
    “Have you heard about the latest autokinetics, Robert?” Pinker said. He gazed out of the window at a snarl of traffic.“I’ve ordered one from France. Four wheels, a small combustion engine, and as fast as a mail cart at a gallop.There will be none of these ridiculous hold-ups once they become the norm.”
    “I will miss the horses, if that is so,” Emily said. “Where will they all go?”
    “I am sure horses will always be in demand on farms,” her fa-ther said.“Ah! Here we are.”
    We drew up not far from Tower Bridge, in Castle Street. On the corner was a public house—or rather, what had once been a pub. Workmen were putting the finishing touches to a smart new door; there were clear windows where once there would have been frosted glass, and above it all was a black-and-gold sign proclaiming that this was a Pinker’s Temperance Tavern.
    We dismounted and inspected the property. Pinker senior was bursting with pride, and took us on a tour at breakneck speed. Inside, everything was painted black and gold.“It is not so much a color scheme, you see, as a livery. The colors will be replicated in every establishment, as they open.”
    “Why, Father?”
    “So that they all look the same, of course. And the staff—the waiters—will all have black uniforms, with a gold motif. And white aprons, as they wear in France. I took that idea from the Café Royal.” He nodded at me. “The tables—here is one—are topped in marble. Like Florian’s in Venice, I believe.”
    I looked around me. The place was extraordinary; smart enough, in its way, but strange. Every inch of wood was painted black, and the only other color was the gold. It was more like the inside of a hearse-carriage than a tavern. At the rear, behind what had once been the bar, was the contraption Pinker had demonstrated at our first meeting in his office, chugging quietly to itself. Next to it Jenks, kneeling, was making some adjustments to the dials.
    “Are we operational?” Pinker called.
    “Almost, sir.” As Jenks spoke a gust of steam hissed out of a valve, making Emily jump.
    “Well?” Pinker turned to us, rubbing his hands with excitement.“What do you think?”
    “It’s wonderful, Father.” “Robert?”
68 * anthony capella

    “Remarkable,” I agreed. “Most impressive. There is just one thing . . .”
    “Yes?”
    “The name.” “What of it?”
    “Do you think