The War on Maple

One

Roma Elliot was a small café across the street from Maple Avenue and on the corner of West and Maine. It was quaint; a soft, warm square of brown with large glass windows and patio with round tables shaded by creamy umbrellas. Elliot Haven stood behind the polished bar of her shop, punching away at the cash register with slender fingers as her customer dug through her purse for change.

Ding. Elliot looked up and smirked, running a hand through her bangs as a young man entered the café, his strides long and confident. She thanked the woman at the register, handed her a cappuccino in a warm, paper cup, and watched as she brushed passed the man, slipping through the door. The newcomer approached the bar as Elliot lifted the small gate that kept her isolated and moved to cut the man off, leaning back against the countertop.

"Elliot," the young man smiled impishly. "Business a little slow this morning? Where's Denise?"

The young woman opened her mouth in a silent "oh," folding her arms across her chest. "Clark, don't even start. I haven't seen a single person entered your store since yesterday."

"Really?" Clark asked, peering around her to the shiny machine on the back counter. "What's that, new toy?"

Elliot narrowed her eyes, slowly moving her hands to rest on her hips. "Yes…a new steamer. I just got it in a few days ago."

"I see."

"Clark."

"Hm?"

"Get your ugly backside out of my shop."

Clark blinked at her, putting a hand to his heart and giving a small bow. "Whatever Her Majesty says."

He backed away and Elliot moved with him, stopping halfway to the door. "So not no offend you with my backside," he grinned.

At this time, Denise made her entrance, pulling open the door as Clark left, slamming shoulders with her so she teetered precariously on her six-inch heels. Denise watched his retreating back, and both women followed him with their eyes; across the street, down the sidewalk, and through the glass doors of Le Petit Café.

"I don't know why you even let him in here," Denise mused, clopping forward in her heels and looking around. "Business a little slow this morning?"

Elliot rolled her eyes and ducked back behind the bar. "The usual?"

"Oo," Denise ignored her, "is that one of those things that puts out foam? I'll have a caffé mocha. That would mean foam, right?"

Nodding, the shop owner turned, her inch-long ponytail bobbing with the motion. She filled a cup with espresso and chocolate, then held the cup beneath the tap of the steamer and pulled down. Milk foam slowly poured out, making delicate swirls before Elliot topped off the drink with a glop of whipped cream. Denise took it and raised her eyebrows.

"Right," Elliot said. "A spoon for the whipped cream and a straw for the espresso; there you go. And besides, how I am supposed to keep Clark out? He's my brother. He'll find someway to get in."

"A No Dogs Allowed sign could work," Denise proposed.

Elliot laughed. "I'll think about it."

Denise grinned and tucked in as she made her way to the usual seat, the one in the back corner beside the only glass window that Elliot ever bothered to wash. Elliot followed her most loyal customer to the table, adjusting a few painting that hung on the wall as she went. The jingle of bells signaled a teenage couple as they entered the café, walking hand in hand. In the girl's free hand, a cup of coffee already swirled with steam. Elliot squinted at it, trying to read the label. Le Petit Café.

"Hey," Denise said to the couple, jabbing at them with her spoon. "We don't accept any Le Petit customers here!"

Elliot ignored her friend and slipped behind the counter to get the couple's order with a quick, "Denise, you have chocolate syrup between your teeth."

"I do not." But she pulled out a compact mirror and checked anyway.

"So how's your grandma?" Elliot asked, wiping the counter as the teenagers went outside to sit on the patio.

Denise groaned. "Still as rich as ever. She won the lottery, again, and won't give one red cent to any of us kids. It's immoral! I don't mean to sound horrible, but sometimes I wished she'd just die already. But no, she had to go and get that stupid 'Life Alert' thing. They've brought her back to life twice this week alone. Just let an old-timer go why don't you?"

"Mhm," Elliot mumbled, leaning on the bar with her chin propped in her hand.

"Gosh El, you're not still trying to figure out who bought the old department store across the street are you?" Denise sighed, licking the back of her spoon. "You're usually so intent on helping me plot the death of my dear sweet grandmother."

Elliot tossed aside the rag in her hand and frowned. "I have a bad feeling about it. If it's another coffee shop, Clark and I are both doomed. We don't get much business anyway, and if there were three shops within a one block radius…"

Denise's chair scraped against the floor as she walked to the trash and tossed out the empty cup, her eating utensils jammed inside. "Then I'd still be coming here. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks," Elliot smiled. "See you tomorrow then, Dee."

"If I see Clark, I'll push him in front of a car for you, then there'd only be one café," Denise grinned, and then she hip-swayed her way out the door, passed the young couple, who shot her poisonous looks, and down the sidewalk.

Around the time Denise vanished from view, Garrett Harvey skidded into the café, his dark blond hair a mess of thick curls as he gripped the doorway. "Hey, boss. Sorry I'm late."

"I hired you on an instinct," Elliot said, pointing the rag at him. "Don't make me regret it."

Garrett shook his head. "No ma'm."

Outside, the couple was conversing. The boyfriend held out his Roma Elliot cup to the girl across from him, but she wrinkled her nose and shook her head critically.

"All right then," Elliot said, a small frown on her face as she tossed him his apron. "Suite up."

The boy stared at the white lace that lined the straps. "But it's pink."

Elliot smiled. "Yep. And you're late."