Page 48 of Mistaken Intention

I let her lead the way. She knows this place about as well as I do, after all, and when we get into the living room, she turns to face me. “Can I get you anything?”

“I noticed the complicated coffee machine in the kitchen, so I guess I’m a coffee drinker.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you seemed to enjoy the coffee I brought you in the hospital… and it’s notoriously bad.”

I chuckle and she joins in. “Maybe I don’t have a very discerning palate.”

“Or maybe you were just desperate for caffeine.”

“Why don’t we see if we can work out how the coffee machine functions, and maybe I’ll be able to establish whether I have taste or not?”

She turns, making her way into the kitchen. “I think it’s a given that you have taste,” she says, over her shoulder. “This place is beautiful.”

“It is kinda nice.”

The coffee machine is over by the window and we head straight for it, standing for a moment and studying it.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have tea?” She looks up at me with a smile.

“It can’t be that difficult.”

I turn it on at the wall, and the control panel lights up. There are buttons all around it and I press the arrow on the right.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know, but what’s the worst that can happen?”

“It’ll explode?”

I laugh, and we both look back at the control panel, which says ‘flat white’. I click the arrow again and the display changes to ‘single espresso’. “Ahh… so we choose the type of coffee we want.” Josie nods her head and I keep scrolling through until we get back to ‘flat white’ again. “What do you feel like?”

“I don’t know… let’s try a cappuccino.”

“Okay.” I make the selection. “It seems you have to choose how frothy you want the milk to be.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… look, there’s a scale.”

It’s one to five, so we choose three, on the basis that we don’t know what we’re doing, but it’s in the middle, and seems safest.

We need water, and I find the tank easily, filling it up… and then comes the coffee itself. The machine takes beans, which surprises Josie.

“You really do like your coffee, don’t you?” she says, rooting through the kitchen cabinets, discovering where I keep my cups and bringing two back, along with a packet of coffee beans.

“I guess so.”

She opens the pack, tipping them into the container. “Do you think it’s ready now?”

“We just need milk.”

She rolls her eyes and darts to the refrigerator, bringing back a carton, which she opens, handing it to me. There’s a separate tank on the side, and I open it, filling it up to the ‘max’ line.

“That’s gotta be everything now,” she says.

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