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Thursday afternoons at Café Diem were generally pretty quiet. Mondays and Fridays were somewhat more popular as people needed the extra caffeine boost to start or end their weeks. Then on Tuesdays there was the sonic checkers tournament hosted by some of the retired residents of Eureka, and Wednesdays had laser backgammon. But today was a Thursday, and it was in that quiet slot between the end of the lunch rush and before school let out. Once it hit three-thirty, the kids would start arriving for coffee and studying, followed by many of their parents at five, and the dinner rush at six.
Vincent had over an hour until that started however, so he wiped down the counter for the third time as he contemplated improvements for his mocha raspberry almond torte recipe, and how it might compliment his new white chocolate blueberry Frappuccino. He glanced around to make sure his few customers were still satisfied. George Greer was in a booth reading an engineering journal and nursing a hot chocolate, while Henrietta Lipscomb was at a back table poking at something that made a few sparks. As long as she didn’t crossed his threshold of too much smoke or electrical output for indoor activity, it looked like she was fine.
The bell on the door rang, and Vincent looked up to see Dr. Thaddeus Finn making a beeline for the counter.
“Could I get a Latte? And I need to check ‘The Book,’ if that’s okay.”
‘The Book’ was in fact a simple bound notebook, but it contained all the active bets currently available in Eureka. With Vincent as the self-appointed gossip king, all rumors circulating town hit Café Diem sooner or later (and it was usually sooner). The presence of ‘The Book’ simply encouraged people to make the café their first stop on the gossip train in order to be the first to verify the latest standings or close out an active bet.
The contents were wide and varied: When would the next Class A town-wide disaster happen and which department would be responsible? Who would make valedictorian among Tesla’s high school seniors? Who would be the next person to file a formal complaint against Dr. Parrish? When would Dr. Sybil and Dr. Rani’s new baby be born? Would Dr. MacGregor’s new research be enough to nab a Nobel Prize? Who would be Eureka’s next mayor? Some of the bets were civic, some professional, and some personal.
With such a slow afternoon at Café Diem, Vincent pulled ‘The Book’ out with alacrity. Dr. Finn had apparently seen a very unusually colored cloud of smoke emitting from Henry’s Garage, and Vincent and Dr. Finn quickly became so busy speculating on the many bizarre guesses under “What would Henry’s next crazy invention be?” that they didn’t notice someone new enter the café until Dr. Stark cleared his throat behind them.
“A Vinspresso and a rosemary turkey sandwich to go, please.”
Ah, Dr. Stark must have been working through lunch again. Although it was curious that he came into town to grab lunch rather than go to the G.D. cafeteria.
While Vincent prepared the food and coffee, he heard a slight rustling behind him and turned back to see Dr. Stark’s attention fixed on ‘The Book’ – specifically on the page dedicated to the Stark/Blake/Carter love triangle. With the many and varied bets chronicled in the notebook, Vincent usually performed a very careful dance about who had access to which pages – ostensibly so that no one could influence the results, but really to avoid embarrassment or anger over some of the bets. Likewise, although Dr. Stark was undoubtedly aware of the existence of ‘The Book,’ as Director he had previously always turned a blind eye so that he neither endorsed nor condemned the town-wide gambling.
As Dr. Stark continued to simply study the page, Vincent shared a panicked little glance with Thaddeus Finn. The page had two large columns titled “Nathan Stark/Allison Blake” and “Jack Carter/Allison Blake” each containing dozens of bets underneath. Dr. Stark glanced over the two before focusing on the third column which had been hastily scribbled into the margin.
Vincent held his breath waiting for any sort of comment, but Dr. Stark’s face remained expressionless as he extracted a pen from his jacket pocket and began drawing a careful diagonal line through the first column.
“You’re withdrawing yourself from the running?”
Dr. Stark didn’t even bother to respond and instead continued to draw three successive lines before capping his pen and retrieving his lunch. Finally, with a smirk and a wink, Dr. Stark swaggered out the door.
A smile crept onto Vincent’s face as he looked down at the graffitied page. While the first two columns had been neatly X’ed out, the tiny column labelled “Jack Carter/Nathan Stark” had been left untouched.
