“Can I offer anyone a coffee while we wait for Captain Hienrichs?” Momoe offered. “There is a fresh pot behind the bar.”
“Finally” said Emerson. “I’ll have an extra large, single cream, triple sugar,”
“None for me,” said August, who’d finally holstered his gun but still paced about nervously.
“Nor for me,” smiled Garnet. “Though I’d love a spot of tea if it isn’t any trouble.”
“I have some great Ravilan chai,” offered Momoe. “It is a little peppery but quite nice.”
“That sounds wonderful, Momoe.” Garnet smiled as Momoe busied herself with the tea preparation. Miss Psaltery furrowed her brows as her thoughts turned to more serious matters. “Perhaps we should fetch a doctor to examine Mr. Tripe.”
Emerson glanced at the disheveled writer who was now sitting upright in an armchair in the corner. “He’ll be fine.” Emerson called over to the corner, “Hey, pal, you want some coffee?”
“No thank you,” Mr. Tripe replied. “But the Ravilan chai sounds nice if you could spare a cup.”
“Coming right up,” Momoe sang out.
“Garnet, you and Victor are pretty tight, right,” said Emerson.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Garnet replied guardedly.
“It’s just that I have a theory about why he’s so successful and walks around with such swagger.”
“Oh?” Garnet raised her eyebrows.
“I’ll bet he has a really big desk,” said Emerson, spreading his arms to indicate something large.
“Why would you think I should know the size of Mr. Mornington’s desk?” replied Garnet, reaching for the tea cup Momoe placed on the bar and taking a sip. “Oh, Momoe, this is delightful.”
“I need a big desk so people will take me seriously,” Emerson continued. “And I’m going to put it right there,” he pointed to the entrance by the bakery. “So people have to pass it when they come in. Why have a big desk if you aren’t going to show it off?”
“I don’t think the size of the desk matters,” said Momoe, “It’s the work you do when you are behind it that counts.”
“Work?” said Emerson.
“I found Miss Book,” Johnny called from the door. “Where’s my smokes?”