Visions and Vanilla Cappuccino Read online

  Table of Contents

  Visions and Vanilla Cappuccino (Maddie Goodwell, #2)

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  Maple Macadamia Health Ball Recipe

  Maple Macadamia Health Ball Recipe

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  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  Maple Macadamia Health Ball Recipe

  Maple Macadamia Health Ball Recipe

  Visions and Vanilla Cappuccino - A Coffee Witch Cozy Mystery –

  Maddie Goodwell 2

  By

  Jinty James

  Copyright © 2017 by Jinty James

  All rights reserved

  Please note: This book was formerly called Cappuccino Corpse

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  CHAPTER 1

  “I can’t believe that in two days’ time, this square is going to be transformed into a coffee festival!” Suzanne Taylor plopped onto a stool, wiggling her feet, as she sipped a vanilla cappuccino. Her blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, while her strawberry-blonde hair swung from side to side in a ponytail.

  “I know,” Maddie Goodwell agreed, looking out onto Estherville’s town square. Smooth green lawn, with a few benches dotted here and there, would soon be turned into a bustling hive of activity – as well as providing an influx of visitors to the small township, located one hundred miles from Seattle.

  “Mrrow.” Trixie, the Persian cat, joined in the conversation. White and fluffy with a silver spine and tail, the feline’s turquoise eyes looked lively with expectation.

  Maddie and Suzanne had just recovered from the morning rush. Ever since they’d opened Brewed from the Bean seven months ago, their coffee truck had been a success. They were allowed to park at the town square, snagging joggers, office workers, and shoppers as their clientele.

  And now, their truck was in prime position for the inaugural regional coffee festival.

  Since coffee was Washington State’s official drink, the town council had come up with an idea for a one-day festival, in conjunction with Aunt Winifred, a small town half an hour’s drive away, and other townships nearby. And, to entice baristas to enter, there would be a competition for the best freshly made cappuccino. The prize was a wildcard entry into the state barista championship held in Seattle the following month.

  “You’re a shoo-in to win,” Suzanne declared, taking another sip of her cappuccino.

  “Do you think so?” Maddie furrowed her brow. “There are going to be other baristas here, not just Claudine from the coffee shop.”

  “Don’t mention her name.” Suzanne shuddered dramatically. “I don’t even know why she bothered to enter. She has no chance!”

  Claudine Claxton, the curmudgeonly coffee shop owner, was Maddie’s nemesis. When the older woman had bought the coffee shop, Maddie’s working conditions had become intolerable, until she finally quit her job, and started Brewed from the Bean with Suzanne, her best friend since middle school – and Trixie, of course.

  Maddie made the coffee drinks and Suzanne handled the register and their new, profitable line of tempting morsels: health balls, made from a mixture of cacao, dates, coconut, and other wholesome ingredients. Trixie dozed on her stool, and occasionally greeted her favorite customers – when she wasn’t busy grooming herself to maintain her pristine white and silver fur.

  “You never know what a judge prefers,” Maddie said, trying to be fair.

  “I know he won’t prefer her coffee over yours,” Suzanne declared.

  Most people who tried Claudine’s coffee never went back for a second cup. Instead, they visited Brewed from the Bean, telling Maddie how much they loved her coffee. It was amazing Claudine was still in business – somehow, the coffee shop owner was blinkered when it came to the art of making a good cup of espresso, informing everyone her coffee was wonderful, when it actually tasted like cheap swill.

  “Mrrow!” Trixie agreed.

  Maddie sank down on the stool next to Suzanne, nursing a vanilla latte. “Thanks, Trixie.” She stroked the fluffy feline. “And you too, Suze.”

  Suzanne grinned. “If you add your signature art to the cappuccino, they’ll be even more blown away.”

  “The rules don’t state that cappuccino art is expected.” Maddie frowned.

  “But they don’t say you can’t do it,” Suzanne pointed out. “And when you win, you’ll get to compete in the big championship next month. Add Trixie’s image to your microfoam, and we’ll be packing our bags for Seattle!”

  Trixie bunted Maddie’s hand, as if nodding in agreement.

  “Okay.” Maddie crinkled her eyes. “You two are bossy!”

  “Yeah.” Suzanne grinned.

  “Mrrow!”

  They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Maddie sipping her latte, and Suzanne finishing her cappuccino. Trixie continued to look out of the serving hatch, as if she could already see the town square being transformed into a coffee festival.

  “Have you tried the Coffee Vision spell today?” Suzanne spoke.

  “No.” Maddie shook head.

  “Broomf!” Trixie sounded disappointed.

  “I haven’t had time.” Maddie sighed.

  When she was seven, Maddie had stumbled across a crumbling old book called Wytchcraft for the Chosen in the local secondhand bookshop. She paid the one dollar the bookshop owner insisted was the price just for her, and sneaked it home, certain her conservative parents would not approve.

  One spell in particular caught her attention – how to tell someone’s future for the next twenty-four hours with the aid of a cup of coffee. When she used her own cup of coffee, she caught a glimpse of her future for the next day. When she cast the spell over a customer’s cup of coffee, she could peek into their future over the next twenty-four hours.

  Until recently, it was the only spell she could master from the dusty tome, despite a page in the book that stated a witch came into her full powers once she was seven-and-twenty. Maddie’s twenty-seventh birthday had been several weeks ago...

  Last month, she saw a vision – the murder of one of her regular customers! She, Trixie, and Suzanne had helped solve that murder, and along the way, she’d been able to cast a truth spell with success.

  Maddie just hoped there wouldn’t be any more murders in her future.

  “Do it now.” Suzanne nudged her.

  “I’m not sure it will work.” Maddie looked doubtfully at her latte. “I made this five minutes ago, and I�
��ve always cast it on a freshly made coffee.”

  “Try it,” her friend urged.

  Trixie looked at her expectantly, as if agreeing with Suzanne.

  “Okay.”

  An image of a dark, handsome man standing outside their truck appeared.

  “Really?” Maddie frowned.

  “What do you see?” Suzanne peered over her shoulder, then slumped back. “I can’t see anything.”

  “Ramon.”

  “No way!” Suzanne grinned. “Is he coming over here?”

  “Yes.” Maddie wasn’t sure how she felt about her vision. Ramon was a sexy masseuse who owned a salon squeezed into a corner of the town square. She’d first met him last month, when she’d been investigating her customer’s murder, although he hadn’t been involved in that crime.

  “I’ve got to get a massage from him.” A dreamy look appeared on Suzanne’s face.

  “You mean you haven’t already?” Maddie teased. Ever since she’d told Suzanne about Ramon, her friend had threatened to book a session with him.

  “Not yet.” Suzanne waved a hand around the truck. “We’ve been pretty busy.”

  “I know.”

  “Which is a good thing,” Suzanne said in a cheery voice. “And I bet after the festival, business will be even better.”

  Before Maddie could reply, a tall, dark, handsome man – just like the cliché – appeared at the truck serving window, wearing dark chinos and a navy shirt.

  “Hello, Maddie and Suzanne. And Trixie.” Ramon smiled at them. His liquid brown eyes were framed with thick dark lashes, perfectly complementing his olive skin and firm, sensual lips.

  Maddie waited a second for her breath to return to her lungs.

  “Hi, Ramon.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound squeaky.

  “Hi Ramon.” Suzanne hopped over to the counter, returning his smile.

  Trixie blinked up at him, her turquoise eyes bright and lively.

  “You will be at the coffee festival?” he asked.

  “Yes,” they both answered breathlessly.

  “Mrrow!”

  “I will be there also.” His faint Spanish accent made whatever he said sound impressive, even if he talked about mundane matters.

  “Great.” Suzanne grinned at him.

  “You have not booked your massages with me.” He crooked a finger at them. “Now I have sampled your coffee, Maddie, it is only right you and Suzanne sample me.”

  Maddie’s cheeks heated, even though she knew he meant a strictly professional massage, and not – not him. In a romantic sense. Besides, he was too old for her – too old for both of them. She and Suzanne were twenty-seven and Ramon looked to be in his early forties.

  “Yes.” Suzanne’s eyes gleamed with a hint of sexy. “We should definitely make an appointment with you right now.”

  Ramon nodded, digging into his pocket and bringing out his phone. “Let me see.” He tapped the screen. “Yes, I am available this afternoon. Otherwise—” he looked up at them, “—it will have to be after the festival.”

  “That’s fine,” Maddie said quickly. She didn’t know if she was ready for a massage with him. Just the thought of his large, tanned hands rubbing her shoulders – or her back – caused her stomach to flutter. And it was ridiculous. But there was just something about him – something so purely male and sensual – that made her feel that way. And by the way Suzanne was eyeing him, it seemed he had the same effect on her, too.

  “I can make it this afternoon.” Suzanne jumped in. She turned to Maddie. “Can’t I?”

  “Sure.” Maddie nodded. “I’ll be able to handle the customers.”

  “Good.” Ramon tapped the screen again. “Two o’clock, Suzanne. Does that work for you?”

  “Yes,” she answered, her cheeks pink.

  “And now, Maddie, if you will make me one of your delicious coffees, I shall be on my way.” He turned and gestured to the couple of people standing behind him. “I am holding up your customers.”

  Maddie made his usual, an espresso, and handed it to him. He paid Suzanne and with a wave, walked across the square to his storefront.

  “Phew!” Suzanne sipped from a bottle of water once they’d served the customers. “Am I ready to get a massage?”

  “You’ve been talking of nothing else for the last few weeks,” Maddie pointed out with a smile. “Go for it.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t leave you on your own with the festival only two days away.” Suzanne frowned.

  “There’s not much to do,” Maddie replied. “We’re lucky we’ve got all our equipment here in the truck. The other stall holders will have to bring everything with them and set up. And I made sure to order extra beans, cups, and napkins when we first found out about it. I’ll be fine on my own this afternoon.”

  “Okay,” Suzanne said breathlessly, pulling off her hair elastic, finger-combing her locks, and pulling them back into a slightly neater ponytail. “How do I look?”

  Before Maddie could answer, a whining, nasal voice assaulted their ears.

  “No customers?” A stout forty-something woman with jet-black hair cropped short smirked at them.

  Claudine.

  “We’re recovering from the morning rush,” Suzanne said loftily, drawing herself to her full height of five foot six. “What can we do for you, Claudine?”

  “Just checking to see if you girls are ready for the competition.” Claudine’s greedy gaze roamed over their coffee truck. “The press and the local radio station are going to cover the event. My café is sure to be featured in the newspaper, and I bet Dave Dantzler from the radio station will want me to be on his show. Expect to see me compete in the big competition in Seattle next month, girls.”

  Suzanne snorted. “I don’t think so. Everyone knows Maddie will win. And I’m sure the paper will feature all the contestants equally. As will Dave Dantzler.”

  “Don’t count your coffee beans before they’re roasted.” Claudine shook her finger at both of them.

  “As if she knows anything about roasting beans,” Suzanne muttered under her breath to Maddie.

  Maddie silently agreed. From her time working at the curmudgeon’s café, she knew Claudine would be happy to serve instant coffee and call it freshly brewed espresso if she could get away with it. That was one of the reasons Maddie had quit.

  “Been practicing your cappuccino art?” Suzanne asked.

  “What?” Claudine’s eyes widened.

  “Art is allowed on top of the cappuccino,” Maddie said.

  “Art?” Claudine glowered.

  “You know, hearts, flowers, words,” Suzanne informed her.

  A vein throbbed in Claudine’s temple. “Why was I not informed of this?”

  “It’s in the rules.” Suzanne shrugged. “Haven’t you read them?”

  “The rules do not say art is allowed on the cappuccino,” Claudine huffed.

  “But it doesn’t say it’s disallowed,” Maddie said gently, realizing she was echoing what Suzanne had told her earlier.

  “But – but—” Claudine stared at them, no longer looking smug.

  Maddie even felt sorry for her.

  “You better go and practice, then.” Suzanne waved her hand.

  “Oh – oh – oof!” Claudine spun around and stalked off toward her café on the other side of the square.

  “Don’t you think you were a little hard on her?” Maddie asked once Claudine was out of earshot.

  “Nope.” Suzanne shrugged. “I know how horrible she was to you when you worked for her – she deserves a little payback. Besides, we probably did her a favor without realizing it. Now she’ll practice and not feel left out that she was the only one without art on her cappuccino entry.”

  “But ... words?” Maddie tried to suppress a giggle. “I haven’t attempted words for my coffee art.”

  “You don’t need to,” Suzanne said loyally. “Your picture of Trixie is what every other barista wishes they could do. I’m sure you’re going to win the comp
etition.”

  JUST AFTER THREE O’CLOCK, Suzanne came back to the truck.

  “Well?” Maddie studied her friend, who looked flushed and had a faraway look in her eye. “How was the massage?”

  “It was amazing!” Suzanne gushed. “Totally professional and legit – but his voice – oh, Mads – his voice sent delicious shivers down my spine the whole time.” She looked dreamily into the distance. “I swear Mads, I’m going to marry that man one day.”

  Maddie smiled. Suzanne frequently got enthusiastic about certain things – like nagging Maddie about creating health balls as another profit stream – and she usually persisted until she turned the vision in her head into reality. But Maddie couldn’t decide whether Suzanne was serious about marrying Ramon one day or she’d just gotten carried away by the massage.

  “I wonder why he’s not married already?” Maddie said thoughtfully. “Or at least spoken for.” She glanced at her friend. “Maybe there is someone in his life.”

  “He doesn’t wear a ring and I didn’t see any photos in his office,” Suzanne said. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to break the heart of every woman in the world by marrying.”

  “Apart from the woman he marries,” Maddie pointed out.

  “Which would be me.” Suzanne pointed to herself, grinning.

  At this point, Trixie decided to make a contribution to the conversation.

  “Mrrow!”

  “You can be one of my bridesmaids, too, Trixie.” Suzanne looked at Maddie and they both burst out laughing. Unfortunately, Trixie didn’t look like she appreciated the joke.

  “Sorry, Trix.” Suzanne gently stroked the fluffy white cat until she purred, the feline’s turquoise eyes ecstatically narrowing to slits. “We weren’t laughing at you.”

  The cat bunted Suzanne’s hand, as if accepting her apology.

  “I swear Trixie understands what we’re talking about.” Suzanne shook her head in wonder.

  “I know,” Maddie said.

  “Are you going to bring her to the festival?”

  “I thought it might be better if she stays at home, but—” Maddie studied her cat’s face, which now seemed to be on the verge of pouting “—she can come if she wants to.”

  “Mrrow!” Trixie purred and pushed her head against Maddie’s hand, demanding to be petted.