Joe spluttered, choking on his pastry. Bethany's eyes went wide and she leapt the counter, hiking her riding skirts up.

'Easy Joe.' She said, thumping Joe on the back. 'You're not the first person to down a beehive pastry too fast.'

Joe's coughing eased and he held up a hand in thanks. Bethany nodded and ducked behind the counter, fussing around at the stove. She poured him a mug of a steaming brown beverage, held it out and Joe nodded his thanks.

They probably called coffee something different here. Really it was lucky that the language was compatible at all, Joe thought. Magic or some nonsense he supposed. Joe stood up straight and took a moment to savour the beverage.

Again, the smell was quite nutty, earthy even and while he couldn't place the bean, it looked like coffee. He took a sip.

Huh.

That was not coffee.

There were flavours of wheat, bran and molasses. Yet it wasn't really sweet. It filled the stomach with a nice hot beverage but it neither complimented the pastry nor set his neurons firing. It wasn't that it was bad necessarily, it was just that it was not coffee. You could see the care it had been cultivated with, the flavour palate was diverse if not overly pleasing.

'I'm from a bit out of town, what do you call this, Beth?' Joe asked.

Bethany cocked her head. 'Chicsum? Everyone in the kingdom drinks chicsum, Joe, where did you come from?'

He waved a hand. 'Far off, over yonder. What's in it?'

Beth put a hand up to her heart in faux shock. 'Why Joe, that is a family trade secret.' She scratched her head. 'I hear some folks over on the mainland call their brew Postum.'

Postum Joe did know about. It was a substitute drink that you could make from wheat, molasses and some knock off brands used chicory. Joe suspected the chicory was heavier in this blend. All as an attempt to create a coffee substitute without the side effects. Which was a crazy idea. No one made a cookie and got rid of the flavour.

Still Postum had been very popular in the US during World War 2 during coffee shortages. It was filling but it just wasn't coffee. None the less, best not to be a rude guest and he was starving. He sipped the rest of his mug and took in the bakery for a moment.

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'This your place, Beth?' Joe asked.

Bee's bakery was well made, the timber placed with care and precision. The floors were scrubbed clean, the windows sparkled and the pastry case was dressed with decorative ribbons.

Yet the patch jobs on the timber were visible to the discerning eye. Tiny spack fills done to the floor and roof. A small stain in the corner where a leak hadn't been fixed. The ribbons were frayed too, interwoven carefully to cover the wear and tear. A bakery ran on how its smell attracted customers but the visual hook was what sealed the deal.

'It was my mums place but she's...not well.' Beth looked down and away.

'Sorry to hear that.' Joe said, letting the silence fill the room. People always rushed to fill a silence, couldn't stand the awkardness, but he'd found that sometimes people needed that awkwardness. Best thing you could do was sit through the silence with them.

Beth fidgeted. 'I don't know if we have enough change for that coin of yours Joe, don't see a lot of gold dubloons round here.'

Joe shrugged. 'Start up a tab then, I'm sure I'll be back for a bee-hive most days, and a pot of that chicsum.'

Bee pursed her lips. 'We ain't a charity, you got that. I expect you to be here every day to get a pastry.' She set her hands on her hips and stared me down.

Joe chuckled. 'Wouldn't dream of it.' I drummed my fingers on the counter. 'You sure you've never heard of coffee, or tea?'

Beth snapped back into focus mode. 'No what do they look like?'

Joe reached into a pocket and pulled out one of the roasted coffee beans. 'This.'

Beth leaned in and stared at the bean. 'Strange. What do you do with it?'

'Grind it up and pass hot water over it. You can get a lot more complex than that, but that's the gist of it.'

Beth tied her hair back in a pony tail and looked behind her bench. 'I don't have the gear here, but I think I can bring a spare grinding set down from the house up on the hill. I can't contaminate my chicsum set with a foreign ingredient or the rest of the customers will go mad. I'll see if Jacob can find it tonight?'

'Jacob?' Joe said.

'My brother, looks after the farm while I'm running the bakery. I give him a hand in the fields on the weekends.' She said. 'Anyway, where are you staying Joe?' Beth asked.

Joe scratched his chin. 'Hadn't booked anywhere, who would speak to about finding a place?'

Beth nodded. 'Well the Inn might have a spot, we've got Harvest Festival coming up in a month so it might fill up pretty quick. If you're looking for something more permanent you could go speak to Mayor Flannigan. Most of the lots are sold, but he might have something higher up the mountain.'

'Thanks for the tip, I'll go have a chat with this Flanno. Cheers mate!' I called over my shoulder.

A twelve year old boy rushed past Joe on the way out the door. He had a gap toothed smile and hair in a bowl cut. 'Beth, Beth, I did my chores, can I go play with Kerry?'

Beth stared at the closing door. '....Flanno?....

Mate?'

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